Getting used to life without Guy

I've begun to realize that some kind of resilience always steps in to take the place of strength who walks out when I'm in my worst moments. Guy has been on my mind and in my heart from the time I've woken up right down to the setting of the sun and the beaming light of the moon. I've been helplessly longing for him and looking out for him even though my friends say that it's time to let him go. But now I've reached a new stage in my life of not wanting my babies to have anything to do with him anymore. I'm determined to keep them as far away from their father as is possible, so that his negative influence especially when he's underr the influence of liquor, does not hurt their fragile feelings.

Yet at the same time, I find myself making a subconscious effort to allow him access into their lives should he clean up his act and be the nice sober man I once knew - the man who loved me with all his heart and his soul and co-erced me into sticking with him through thick - through thin.

There's a strain of forgiveness in my heart that makes me as vulnerable as to want to open the doors of my heart to him in a matter of seconds should he sincerely apologize to me. Friends say I'm a sucker and that I have to look out for myself and not give him a foothold in my life ever again. Easier said that done when you're in the delicate postition that I am.

Having said that, I've begun to realize that I'm less dependent on this man who just days ago, made my heart skip and beat in love. How is this possible? I can't believe that I've gotten over this pain as quickly as in a matter of days. I feel numbed towards him. Nothing else can hurt me and I've grown as strong as a cactus plant in a dessert!

On a different note, I find that Junior is an avid reader of his mummy's blog. I'm touched that my little baby who is growing up way too soon for my liking, is my precious reader-premiere! I want you to know that both mummy and daddy love you and mummy is going to make sure that daddy remains in your life just the way you want him to EVEN if mummy has her little disagreements now and then!

And mummy is keeping well now, no longer crying the way she did on monday night.

Thank you all for listening to my posts. It's sure nice to have the love and support of my blogsphere at a time in my life when the world started caving in. I can't believe how well I'm holding up. Thank you for reading the ramblings and rants of Just Chillin'. It has helped me get over the pain that I thought would positively kill me, considering the strong hold Guy has upon my life, upon my heart for so many, many years.

KOTTU I need your help ..

In the midst of all the mayhem in my life that just this morning promises to be the best thing that could have happened to me in the light of my fellow-blogger's words, I finally managed to obtain the identity of "Anonymous" who frequently leaves vulgar comments on my posts. "Anonymous" left the following comment ...

Hello Miss Pathetically Patient, how long do you intend staying here plaguing us with your sad sorry tales?

Paul, Wyomi & Natalie

Who in the bloggingsphere is "Paul", "Wyomi" and Natalie"?

All I know is that they are 3 bloggers who constantly leave hurtful coments on my blog.

I have done them no harm and yet they continue to show interest in my life by reading my blog regularly (which I don't grudge them for doing) and leaving anonymous comments that border on the vulgar, hurtful and offensive.

I'me going through a tough period in my life and would really appreciate it if you'd help me atleast know who these 3 bloggers are and why they seem to be lurking around my blog and leaving hateful comments that are really confusing as I see no reason why they'd continuously be such avid readers of my blog if they feel plagued by my sad stories.

To you, "Paul" ..
To you, "Wyomi" ..
To you, "Natalie" .. whoever you are.

The words of a fellow-blogger of mine sums it all up for me. May you apply these words to your life.

"Remember, in the absence of everything else, you are your own judge. CONSCIENCE… I have mine in tact. How about you dear anonymous?"

Lost

The past few days have been days full of solemn quietness in which I've hardly spoken to anyone. I've kind of lost energy though I do perform my duties to a finish, it's without zest or the zeal to look forward to anything better. The lowness of mood carries on until the wee hours of the morning when I flip my phone hoping that Guy might have sent me a text but it's in the negative. Complete silence from him, complete silence from me. I've cried myself to sleep twice, missing him whenever I've switched on the radio and heard some heart tugging ballad from the 80s.

There are times during the day when I long to hear from him. I wish upon wish that my phone beeping is Guy to telling me that he's doing okay. But no. Guy has managed to maintain a stoic silence. And as Sunela advised in a previous post, I've decided to cut off all contact too.

I guess my greatest fear lies in the single sentence.

Will I be forgotten?

The ultimate end of Guy

It's 12:22 in the middle of the night and I'm sitting here after finally ending things with Guy after 2 years, 3 months and 12 days of trying hard to understand him and be there for him however long our long-distance relationship was.

It's with an ache in my heart that I think of the many nights I spent half of my bank account on calls on this man who captured my heart and made me love him so desparately that it all ended like a flash in the pan.

He knows all my secrets. There's nothing I've hidden from him. Half of me feels the insecurity creeping into the vulnerable pockets of the cloak I now call life. What do you do when you've trusted a man so completely that you've never prepared yourself for this end?

But the end has come. And it hurts.

Where do I even start to look for comfort when my heart grieves for him? What do I do when my hand reaches out to the phone and then realizes it cannot type those texts to the companion of my life?

How does one get over the ache in the pit of one's chest that tightens when it realizes that things will never be the same again?

I miss him. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I do.

Where do I go from here?

The end of Guy

Guy almost always manages to break my heart. Tonight he gave me a drunken call from a million miles away from where I stood with my phone pressed to my ear, as he drunkenly started out talking sweetly, only to end up making my heart break with his careless words and insensitive banter.

Guy professes to be in love with me still and I have a special place in my heart for him but as I wrote this post I have an intense and bitter hatred towards him just for tonight and the way he made me feel about myself. That's the key to any relationship isn't it? You guage whether a person's good for you by measuring the way that person makes you feel about yourself at the end of the day (depending of course on whether or not you're a good person to begin with which is almost always taken for granted)

Guy spoke about a girl he could talk absolutely anything with and praised her to the hilt, breaking my jealous heart by saying she's the person he had just taken an overseas call to. He then accused me of keeping something from him when I wasn't doing that in the least, going on to say that I'm the protector of all, the middle man, and that I was keeping this from him as well. I realized then and there, that Guy was very difficult to get on with. He was strongly opinionated and always refused to admit defeat ot confess to being in the wrong.

The manner in which he blamed me for being there for someone when I shouldn't have been and dictated terms through the entirely of the conversation that ended just before I sat down to write this post, made me realize that he was abusing our friendship and hurting me endlessly, contributing little to my life when I have been there for him on more than a dozen occassions. It made me suddenly feel vulnerable and unable to trust again. For Guy was turning around and throwing back at me the very things that I had confidentially shared with him.

I hate Guy for that :(

Tomorrow morning Guy is going to text me and ask me whether he spoke any crap in his drunken state. And he's going to ask it with a smiley face as if it were funny.

What should I say? Does it even deserve a reply?

Authoritarian Bow

Bow has been a great friend in times of crisis, often unfolding his arms to catch me whenever I've taken the big fall. The manner in which he staunchly defends me has touched my heart many a time and there's been one particular period in my life when he has cared and stood with me till the fragments of my heart were picked up and pieced back together as delicately as only he could have done.

Some of you confirmed that Bow seemed to be in love with me on a previous post and I hastened to add that my own feelings dictated so too. I however, have absolutely no feelings for him and he happens to be at the bottom of my list of "favoured beaus" even though he tops it when it comes to being a wonderful friend.

But something about him irked me today and that was his authoratative take on how I should live my life and treat another guy who happened to be my bossom buddy. The manner in which he dissed him and immediately suggested that he was not the best of people just because he's been through the worst of times, made me feel a distase in my mouth for Bow - something which caused a great deal of personal concern in my heart because I couldn't believe that I was feeling that way about Bow who considers me his closest friend.

This was when I realized that one of the keys to real friendship is allowing your friend to blossom and have his or her space without infringing on it or attempting to thwart it with your own opinion. There has to be give and take and being a friend does not give you the right to dictate or hold the reigns to your friend's heart.

I also realized that one of the qualities I most hate about a person is "dictatorship". I am a free spirit and I detest those types of personalities that assume authority over me.

What do you when you have an authoritarian friend? As you may know, it's not something that can be discussed with him as it would be awkward to fight over it. But what can be the rationale for his behaviour and how do I get over this strong dislike for his ways?

On a different note, I haven't been having the best of weeks. Just when I thought I was over the hurdle of addiction I went back to it. I guess it's a struggle and a long wait before I know that I'm completely over my demons. I completely lost it and went back to the things that I have been staying away from so successfully.

Please tell me. With regards to this post, where do I go from here? Have you ever successfully broken a habit or torn yourself away from an addiction? Because I'm certainly in need of help. And I don't know how to help myself because I seem to be doing a very poor job of it : (

Rehani is NB!!!

Or is she?

I'd beg to differ.

There have been accusations, allegations, discussions and debate on the actual veracity of Rehani's identity. There are some who swear that it's NB and they insist so blindly with as much conviction as the donkey who brays for its food.

I for one know for a fact that the 20 year old girl Rehani who has a strong headed opinion on most matters islam-related or otherwise, is NOT the often misunderstood and outspoken NB.

Yet I fail to see the point in attaching such importance to whether or not they were one and the same person when their blogs generate posts meant for reading and commenting on. Why cast assumptions and querry into the dubiousness of their identities when they themselves insist that they are who they say they are?

The situation in itself reminds me of society and its general tendency to judge, misjudge and then insist that the lie is the truth and the truth is the lie, regardless of whether or not the facts speak for themselves. Very often, NB who exposes the truth for what it is, finds himself in hotwater while Rehani picks on the most controversial topics that would make any peace-loving blogger throw daggers at her just for her outlandish content!

Rehani isn't NB and NB isn't Rehani. I'm sure of that.

So let's just leave those two alone and let them carry on blogging, shall we?

Hell hath no fury like a woman's wrath!

I strike till it hurts and feel the pleasant vibe of satisfaction drool through my head and into my body whenever revenge has been sweet and sweetly taken.

"What an awful woman!" you might chide, condemning me to the annals of the archives containing the most horrible human beings on the planet. But I'm just being honest and transparent about how badly I react towards those who have caused me pain. I like to see them sink to new lows and it gives me immense fulfilment seeing them get what they deserved, with a high feeling that lasts me a number of days!

I know I sound terrible but I've realized that that is who I am. And the worst part is that inversely, I never appreciate or laud honour on those who have been good to me. Those people are revered no doubt, but they do not experience the extremities of my emotions in quite the same way.

You see I've been pushed into a corner and butchered when I've been nothing short of innocent and a victim of circumstance in the past. My survival instincts contributed towards making me a stronger woman.

Am I a bad person? Is it only me? Should I change or atleast strive to re-adjust some qualities within me? Do you hate me for being this way? Am I vile?

You're the judge. And there does another personal and honest post straight from the arteries of my heart.

What in your opinion is the BEST MJ song ever?

(If your song is already in the list, state your next best song)

Lessons in life - Easy does it

Personal life-wise, I've had a lot going on than I give credit for in this blog!Sometimes I wonder if anyone in this world could ever fully understand the kaleidoscope of emotions, the myriad of contemplative thoughts that have been working themselves through this head and heart of mine! Sometimes you feel like you really go it alone in this world. Other times you understand that the best person to keep you company on this journey is a self-fulfilled you.

I've felt an amazing amount of peace in my life since last Tuesday or so. The wonder of being at peace with oneself, calm and tranquil in the sea of togetherness as a person has really boosted my self esteem. "Here's another emo girl" you might think, shaking your head! Oh no, I'm not that much of an emo-person actually. It's only because this blog is a mirror-reflection of the inner-most workings of my self that I tend to write this way, bringing all to the surface.

Staying away from sex has been the best decision I've made in a long time. Along with that decision is the decision I made to never sensationalize events by working around them in such a way as would hurt another person. For that I have "anonymous" to thank for. Receiving all those doses of anonymous comments which made absolutely no sense and yet hurt a part of me, made me realize how much a small misgiving can go a long way in hurting another person. I've decided to never be an "anonymous" myself. Whether in anger or in dire hurt. Thus my brush with "anonymous" helped change me into a better person, too.

I've learnt to love myself. Learnt to see every mistake as a mark on the sand, washed away by the still waters that brush my cheeks and skim over every teardrop that falls. I also see that the uniqueness of me is something I alone can boast of. There's no other person in this whole world like me and there never will be. Once I stop breathing and living, the world with all its problems will be over. The day my heart goes into "cardiac-arrest" state like Michael's did, nothing will trouble ot or worry it anymore.

How many of us amble through life, drudging our way along the streets of time or getting stressed over the small inadequecies of life only to pile up many more "complex" sheets that burden our already tired shoulders? It just isn't worth it.

I've gone past that (I think and hope) and learnt that the best thing in life, is to take it easy (Eagles-style). And that's the biggest and best lesson I learnt through this past week. To stay positive and never breathe in the negativity that infuses our soul, only to crush it and squash the life out of it!

Another door closes

Hot on the heels of my gigantic leap up the corporate ladder, I got word today to my dismay, that a position that I've been longing to have and eying for some number of years, is unavailable to me as the door has been shut on my face, subject to an unfair blow on my qualifications for it by a rivalling company that I used to be in.

What is hardest to handle right now is just the mere fact that the basis for my disqualification is something that's completely out of my hands and beyond my control.

I ought to be shattered right now, but I'm going to take a leap of faith and choose to believe that there's nothing in the world that can stop me from being the best of who I was meant to be. If there's to be no more potential in this avenue, I ought to wipe the dust off my feet at its carpet and head on down the doorway to the next post right?

I must say I'm feeling a little downcast and heavy hearted after this piece of news. I'm sorry I've been boring you guys with all of this. I just thought of blogging about it to get things off the recesses of my mind.

Hope you all are having a better mid-week that I am.

Saved from Disaster

I wouldn't want my kids growing up in an atmosphere riddled with constant bickering, lousy moods, smoke, drugs and tattooed uncle's arms raising them up to the sky in some effort to appreciate the babies their women have birthed for them. But believe it or not, that's what was in store for my kids.

If I had gotten custody of my darlings, I would have given them a sober, loving home with peace and rest for their troubled souls. The harmony-less, restless life-style of my husband would surely have killed my babies and caused them to grow up cold, confused, estranged and lonely for sure. But I would have had no choice. The grandmother of my babies would have ruled with her iron rod and interfering bicker while the glum old man who sat by his television set all day would have had nothing of inspirational value for their growing minds. What schools would accept the renegade daddy who'd scoff at the teachers and stubbornly refuse to walk in during parent-teacher's mettings?

A cigarette butt at their lips at their earliest age, a little bit of marijuana, a completel ban on short skirts, absolutely no values, no principles and most of all - no love.

I've come a long way from where I once stood with a man who professed his love to me and promised to be a great daddy to our babies. I've done the best thing any woman can do. I've saved them from the wrath of their father. I've prevented them from being at the but end of his tantrums, his temper, his coldness and his beatings. I could never have stood by and watched while he belted my little son for simply being mischievous. It would have broken my heart.

Looking back I can't imagine that I shared a bed with the man who would have ruined my life forever. But I'm glad I did him good. I never hurt him back, I never hurt his feelings. I negotiated for all that I won with a smile on my face and very little if not absolutely no malice. He was poison to my soul and yet I allowed him to take his own cool time to fizzle out of my life.

I'm glad I and my babies are safe. Safe to enjoy life, safe to feel the love of a caring man whose love would envelope us and provide the security that only a father and a great husband would provide. But every now and then my mind goes back to the hell that was life, the darkest periods of my life and it's during those times that I get down on my knees and thank God my Father for taking me out of a situation that would have seen me living my life - dying just a little bit every day.

Sometimes things don't work out for me and I've wondered why they didn't. But I always realize that it's always been an avenue out of something that could have hurt me for life that I was blind to see at that time.

My love was blind and I would have paid a heavy cost. It it was just myself suffering, it would have been just me and my emotional baggage. But no way could I subject my precious angels to that kind of life. The scars on those gentle souls would have grown deep and I would have been helpless, seeing them grow into a next generation version of their father. Bitther, cold and confused about life. I made a huge mistake falling in love with him and beating all odds to be with him - all against the advice that I got from friends and family who warned me not to go into it. But go into it I did.

Life hasn't been easy but one thing I know for sure. I loved him and I never denied him that love. Not even after we parted company.

At the end of the day, I'm glad I didn't hurt the man I now no longer associate with.

But I'm gladder still that I closed the door on all hell breaking loose, on my family, on my friends, on my babies, on - me.

This song sums it all up for me.

Horny, but without sex!

Here is my latest entry as a girl who's newly (4 days old) turned her back on sex with all its perils and disastrous implications.

I was caught in temptations way but I didn't yield. And the reasons for that are based solely on the feedback and words of most of my blogging friends. And I owe them a "Thank You" for the encouragement and support.

I know it's out of norm for a person to bare it all online and talk about her inadquacies and weaknesses but it's beautiful the way expressing oneself and opening one's heart out to another even via the internet and one's personal blog, can help a person on his or her journey through life isn't it?

I know it's too early to make a prediction but I feel that this is the end of the very things that I wondered if I'd ever quit getting myself into. I feel like my life has been re-prioritised. My head feels clearer and I feel like a torchlight has been shone along the path on which I intend to continue travelling on.

For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, I'm referring to my decision to stop putting myself into positions of having random sexual encounters with even the nicest of blokes.

Life feels good after all!

Being in control of one's life is key isn't it? It's when you lose control or feel that external events and individuals manupilate the steering wheel of your life, that you tend to begin to lose it. Or atleast that's how I felt the last couple of months.

Sure I may miss it. Sure I may be horny ;) but that doesn't mean that I get into something that has me enslaved into it. It's hard to say no to something has brings you a lot of pleasure but saying no to something just because you have decided that you don't want it, brings a far greater pleasure that is unparallelled.

I'm hoping I can remain strong on my journey from hereon. I've never succeeded in giving a thing up before, but I intend to give up many more things in the coming months. Will keep you posted on it.

For now? It's Goodbye Lust. Hello Peaceful Satisfaction.

How we manage our Money, our Time and our Relationships are the 3 most important factors about life, aren't they?

"I'm not going to spend my life being a colour" - Michael Jackson (Black or White)

Why do we leave "anonymous" comments?

Lately I have been receiving some worthless comments that have meant nothing to me at first, but now seem to be getting under my skin. I feel that there are tramps and trolls lurking around my blog and that doesn't make me feel too comfortable!

Sifting through my list of "comments", I re-read some pretty bad ones that shocked and saddened me, considering that we're all here and here for a reason - to blog and share our thoughts in a friendly, clean atmosphere. The comments seem to have been penned by a slightly deviated mind with the intention of causing just a little bit of trouble (if possible) in my waters.

Why do we hurt eachother under the guise of "anoymous"? What can be accomplished by leaving comments that make absolutely no sense sans the repect that ought to be shown towards a fellow blogger or reader?

I was just thinking. It has everything to do with background and upbringing and where we come from, doesn't it? The very intent to abuse someone else anonymously, shows a degree of fear of doing so in the open by revealing identity, thereby proving that the anoymous writer has great concern to not be found out which in turn means that he/she actually fears some sort of repurcussion for whatever reason it may be. Perhaps the anonymous writer is someone known to the blogger who temporarily slips into Jeckel-like shoes whilst playing Hyde at other times.

The most disconcerting fact to me personally, is the fact that Kottu is not the place I knew it to be. Those of us who have grown up in Kottu would remember the days when there was hardly a malicious comment left. Even diagreements were argued reasonably. But times change and newer people come into the fray. I guess that's what happens when you have the option to leave thoughts unsourced. I guess that's the dark side in human nature isn't it? To hurt another person whilst masqurading in the dark unidentified? "Anonymous" just gets away with it, and there's nothing we can do about it.

I don't intend to do ellborate further so I'll wind up this post here.

I'd like to pose a challenge to the trolls - even the "anoymous" ones. Please do reveal your identity (either a first name or your blogging name)and speak in a manner that would make some sort of sense to the reader. I urge you to reveal your identity as this would make you feel some sory of responsibility for what you utter. It's an act of cowardice that causes you to hide behind your "anonymous" peudonym. At the end of the day, it's your conscience that should get pricked, for whatever you chose to leave by way of a comment, on a fellow blogger's posts. May that conscience be re-awakened in you, because none of us can get by in life hurting others along the way, with careless words and hurtful thoughts.

As the late great Michael Jackson sang, "I'm asking" you to change your ways.

100 Posts and still going strong!

I just wrote my 100th post and would like to thank everyone for caring and sharing.

Thank you All!

Breaking my bondage with Sex

This is going to be a very sensitive post and I don't know how this will end up. Whether it will be a cry for help or an admission of weakness. A resolute steadfastness to keep going the way I am, or a complete break down that will concur a change. This will be my most personal post and I hope that it will be well-received and not dished for being controversially out of line.

I seem to be having a problem that troubles me no end. It all began with a flirtatious affair that ended with a sexual twist many years ago. The inception of the sexual awakened in me, a yearning for those still unfulfilled needs to be met. I tried so hard to stay away from those moments I gullibly set myself up for. But I failed each time and ended up succumbing to temptation.

Being a girl, expressing my sexual needs has always been a taboo. But I soon began to experience all the sex the world had to offer, but not without conscience, ethic and a total unwillingness to break another's heart. I'm proud to put on record, the fact that to this date, I have never played - never toyed with another's heart. I have had my own heart broken and dashed into a million pieces, my own dreams taken cruelly away from me, but not one of those guys would ever testify to the fact that I have been party to hurting any one of them and that is some sort of solace in the wake of all that has been happening in my personal life. The most intimate moments I have shared have been moments that have left the guy happy and fulfilled. Sex has never been my ulterior weapon and I am determined that it should NEVER be.

However, I remain desperate at the mercy of my yearning for the act of love. It is found in places with enough ease to make me realize that I will never fall into the category of "desperate and needy", because I have always had a place to call my own. Arms in which to find love and keep love. Still, the patterns my life seems to be inviting and encouraging frighten me. In fact, I've begun to desire a life that is devoid of sex. So great is my keeness to address what seems to be a budding problem in my most personal life.

How does one stay away from sex all together? And with it I intend to attach masturbation and pornography. Fantasy and everything to do with sexual thoughts and lust. I have been told that this is an extreme and completely unnecessary road to journey on but the last few days have had me thinking and thinking hard about the direction my life is heading for. I need to make this change. I just don't know how to.

So please, if you have any thoughts or advice, tips or opinion, please share it with me. I'm tired of living this life. Others who look at me envy me, calling me the "doll" of any and every guy who dates me. But the truth is, my heart isn't happy with the way my life is going. Pornography is harmless, masturbation is a natural release, say my friends. But I know that in my personal life, these things are arrows pointing towards the big event - sex. And I'm desparate to stay clean and live a life that is pure and undefiled from it.

I have found my moments of depression stemming from the "morning after" feel that always accompanies the act of making love. I'm tired of the vacuum and emptiness that fills my mind. Sex is no longer a fun thing to do. Neither is it deep when accompanied with love. The reason for this? Is that I have been having too much of it. I've reached a point in my life where I have to do this for me, not regarding the relationships and ties that are involved. I just know there is an answer, I just haven't found it yet.

How does one stay away from sex?

100 Posts and Still Counting!

I just wrote my 100th post and would like to thank everyone for caring and sharing.

Thank you All!

New Responsibilities!

Today was a landmark in my personal life as I was entrusted the responsibility of handling a group which requires social skill, tact, indepth knowledge of infrastructure and the passion and zeal to carry things out with the least pressure on those I work with. The beautiful thing about the whole thing is that I was the unanimous choice when it came to electing a leader in the department and I slipped into the role with a lot of ease, all thanks to the management who were in charge and more than happy to welcome me in to the ranks as head.

Knowing that the position I am in and the office that I hold requires maturity and a leveled head, felt like a pat on the back and reminded me of the responsibility that I have to perform at my best and give back into this venture which gives me a lot personal satisfaction whilst raising my awareness of issues and the best ways in which to solve them. What I particularly appreciated about my promotion, was the personal improvement that accompanied the carrying out of duties, as the fuctions of a leader always shapes a person into a better person overall.

Here's a champagne glass on my behalf, to the new role that I've positioned myself into. The toast is to me!

There will never be another you, MJ

I can't even begin to describe the sense of sadness that engulfs my heart as I write this post. Michael was more than an icon to me when I was growing up. He was my companion through lonely nights as a kid, and his music videos always make me smile. The creativity of the pharoh scene in "Remember the Time", the innumerable celebrities looking for the king of pop in "Liberian Girl", the everchanging faces in "Black or White", the garage fight routines in his earlier 80s music videos. Who can forget them?

Whether or not he touched the kids he was accused of molesting, noone can take away his unique style and presence in the music scene which was unparallelled. Nobody will be able to do what he did. From his moonwalk to the phenomenal success of "Thriller" to his crotch grabbing "oo-oo"s, he was inimitable and the sweetness of his success was the softness of his heart.

Michael was known for his humanitarian touch. His Quincy-Jones/Lionel Ritchie collaboration for US for Africa birthed the advent of "We are the World" and I can't help tearing as I watch him come in on the chorus in his shining black shoes and white socks, hand in pocket, standing tall.

He had a sense of fear and his stress levels were always at their optimum. There was a time he adorned a face mask for fear of contamination of germs. A publicist states that a human being with that amount of stress could not have gone on living. He was also a sensitive, shy human being who broke down as he sang the 70s Jackson 5 classic "She's Out of My Life" which remains among the top 10 emotional songs to have ever been sung. Rumoured to have been written around the affair he is said to have had with Diana Ross who was many years his senior, his anger at her leaving him is said to have been expressed through the penning of "Dirty Diana" which he sang several years later. Yet there are some who say that theirs was a platonic relationship, the name "Diana" being merely a co-incidence.

Michael is said to have been a victim of his father (Joe Jackson)'s numerous affairs. He was an emotionally tortured child who witnessed the heartache and pain that his mother went through as a result of his dad's infidelity. Unlike his siblings Jermaine, Marlon, Tittie, Freddie, Latoya and Janet, Michael was an introvert who keep his feelings to himself and rarely made a public outcry. He was withdrawn yet confident. The moment he took the stage as the youngest member of the ensemble "The Jackson 5", he would move and dance with the confidence of a veteran and he amazed many during his "Dick Clarke" days.

I can go on and on and on about Michael but I will stop now. Let me end by saying that I will never cease to remember him. The pits of my stomache still ache from hearing his loss.

There will never be another you. You came into this world to make a mark. The world will not forget you.

RIP Michael Jackson : (

-justchillinslow.blogspot.com

Free Again!

The fear that constantly nagged me and knocked at the doorstep waiting to happen during the beginning of this week has sorted itself out! I've got my second chance and I'm delighted as a bunny holding a stack-ful of carrots in her hand!

Dee turned out to be the sweetest reciprocal person out there and completely forgot the one thing that was worrying me constantly. He chose to forgive and forget! We chatted for almost half a hour and he was the same old person that I first knew when we spoke. Awesome!!!

Having said that and breathed a sigh of relief, I'm not going to jeopardise our relationship or take things for granted by ever slipping up again. I'm so happy that things worked out for the best.

We've all got our share of second chances in life haven't we? Well I got mine and I'm eternally grateful for that. I'm a new, optimistic me and I'm thrilled at the turn of events.

Open Mic tonight!

All roads lead to the Inn on the Green when "Open Mic" takes the stage tonight. So all you bloggers out there in the Sri Lankan blogsphere, tonight's the night to meet your friendly fellow-bloggers, share a drink and say hello!

Open mic gives you the opportunity to recite poetry, sing, mimick, read your own favourite posts ... it's open to all and it's a great way to share your prose!

I'm pretty excited about it all and I'm looking forward to meeting you guys this evening.

The past few open mics were held at Tracy's place and this time promises to be even bigger and better!

Here's hoping I'll see you there!

How and Why?

Questions, questions and more questions. You must wonder what all this is about.

Well it's about the startling discovery - the sad discovery, that a friend I admire humongously - (a pure, sweet, angelic being of a woman), turns out to have a personality disorder that has just been classified as "compulsive liar's disorder".

How could this be? She was better than all of us put together. Add us up and divide us by our number and you'd still find double that amount of bad to be missing from her personality. She was a genuine good-hearted woman who never hurt a fly in her way. She was an absolute virgin when it came to men and her moral standards were awe-inspiring. She was the first to help a friend, the kindest out of all of us. How could this happen to her?

I still can't believe that she has turned out to be a person who can look me straight in the eye and spin a lie that streches across my face without batting as much as an eye lid. She has no conscience when it comes to fibbing her way through life.

But this is not the girl she once used to be. I still can't reconcile the two personalities. I long for the old her - the her that used to be able to advise, guide and teach us by example. The her that used to cringe at the thought of telling a half-truth and get hit affectionately, for being so naively good!

What happened to her? How could this angel become a she-devil? Is there any help out there for her? Is she even aware of her psychological make-up?

As her friend all I can do is sit her down and tell her that she needs to pick herself up and quit lying. But is it as easy as that? Compulsive lying is a serious thing which I believe requires professional help.

I'm going to do my best to get her that help.

I just feel so confused. I never expected her to end up this way. And given below are series of random thoughts that started going through my head.

How do you love a person the same way that you did before you found out that he was stricken with a disease that makes him half the man he used to be?

What is it that makes a good person turn bad?

It's kind of like the good milk turning sour when churned isn't it?

What makes the green budding flower fade and fall out of it's place on the branch?

What makes the fresh, smooth skin of a baby end up shrivelled up in wrinkles?

What makes the energy in a battery last long only to run down and die out?

What makes the innocent child grow up to be a guilty villian?

What makes the chalk write against the blackboard till it decreases in size?

Do you believe that there is good in the worst human being?

Can the sinner be redeemed?

How does the compulsive liar start speaking the truth?

How do you teach the thief not to rob?

What makes us turn a 180 degrees, to become whatever it was that we were when we first started?

I wonder if it's too late for my friend. She has already abused my trust. Even if she got better, would she regain all that she is steadily losing while we speak? I guess it's all in my hands and with regards to her, back to that age-old adage "self forgiveness".

But somewhere in all of this, I believe it's God she needs in her life. She needs a miracle to happen to her now, because she's barely unrecognizable to us all.

I can only hope she gets the help she requires. It really hurts when a friend goes through trying times like these. It's the first time I've encountered a compulsive liar! But I have to remember that she was someone else before all this happened to her.

Patience and compassion is what is required of all of us and I'm willing to extend that to the fullest. I just want her to be the old her.

I miss her.

How and why did this happen to her?

All about that "Anonymous"!!

#1 "Anonymous" loves to say what he does with as much guile and lack of common courtesy as possible.

#2 "Anonymous" loves to hide behind the pseudonym so that he can be free to express the real contents of his heart.

#3 "Anonymous" finds boldness to comment only when he stands behind the wall that does not allow bloggers to glimpse a vew of the "real" him.

#4 "Anonymous" says what he says with the confidence that he will never be found out. He therefore says that he would NEVER say had he revealved his real identity.

#5 Is there an "Anonymous" in all of us?

Not really.

#6"Anonymous" is diffident to attach a name to his quotes.

#7 "Anonymous" does not have a blog of his own and even if he does, he prefers not to draw attention to the connection between himself and his blog.

#8 We've all experienced a little bit of "Anonymous" every single day.

#9 "Anonymous" visits blogs and thrives on feedback/responses that may be made under provokation.

#10 On the rare occasion, "Anonymous" actually has something good to say!

Second Chances

Over the weekend I got to see a new side to myself. A side that wants to recompense for all the wrongs she has done. A calm and collected side to me that allowed all the hustle and bustle, the scurry and hurry of life rush past me while I stood for a moment and just absorbed the slow ticking of the hands of the clock..

But just when I was fitting comfortably into the snugness of self-actualization, something happened to burst the bubble of happiness. A bad deed that I had committed ages ago returned on my doorstep to haunt me, accompanied by packages of guilt and remorse. There to collect it were two of my best buddies. One a real darling, the other an "in and out" kind of friend. It didn't take too long for me to find myself knee deep in mud, trying desperately to come out.

To some extent, I have managed to wade through this trial with my face unscathed. But there's yet the possibility that I can find myself in deeper shit if a certain aspect of my past deeds is brought out. Things as they stand, resemble the makings of a time bomb. And I can only sit and wait indefinitely, hoping that the explosion never takes place.

It's funny how I was dealt out my punishment just when I had turned a new leaf in my book and made ammends with my past. I have no right to question life or querry into the advent of my chastisement because I have done wrong. But all I can do is hope and pray that Someone up there sees my heart and doesn't allow the exposure that can break the very heart thath beats to keep me going.

A second chance. That's all I ask for. As I sit and wait nervously with a genuinely repentant heart.

The past has a way of catching up on you. No deed you commit is ever done in secret. It will always be revealed isn't it?

Burn Out!

There's been a period in my life when things have grown stale and the journey weary. The shoes that have been on this pair of feet have been worn out travelling on roads that have been full of self-defamation.

Sometimes we can be our own harshest critic can't we? I know I am. I come down really hard on myself and punish myself whenever I go ahead and do something stupid or silly that I should never have done.

And I seldom reach out a helping hand to myself to redeem me and bail me out.

That's when I realized that sometimes we have to love ourselves before we can love eachother or ever prepare ourselves to receive love from someone else.

The danger of being around on this planet earth for a considerable amount of time is burning out.

Let's never burn out!

Scenes from a War front

Silently she watches,
waiting
in a pool of mud
behind the blades of grass
that sweep over the tips of of her helmet.

Her lover is at war
Shooting t-56 artilery at the enemy
While she watches his back
Heart beating, sweat beads and perspiration pouring
down the base of her spine

Suddenly up shoots a blast of smoke
That infiltrates the air like a cloud on top of a fountain!

She runs into danger and begins to shoot
Desperation fills her heart as chaos floods her mind
She races on with no thought or care for her own life

When suddenly

Her boot tilts over a soft bag of human flesh
Causing her to fall head-down and flat on the nose with a thud

Her gun leaves her hand and flies to the furthest ground
Her eyes turn back to see
The body of her lover

In soldier uniform
Lies the man who made love to her the night before
killed in the battlefront.

She clings to the ground and cries into the dust
Blood and sweat, teats and saliva pouring down
She screams in agony, calling out to her lover

She's too grieved
to notice the enemy's shadow
looming over her quaking body.

Bang!

And she is silenced.

Intense Hatred

How do you react when someone gets under your skin with a pitch fork in hand, to jab and dig at its soft, sensitive layers until it had made a permananent mark of wounded scab?

I'm a scorpio and I find I've got the personality of a rattle snake. For those of you who don't know, the rattle snake unlike anyother snake, never attacks unless provoked to, or under perceivable threat (in fearful situations in which it deems the opponent to be dangerous to himself).

But is it wrong to mark time until the opportuned moment comes in which to attack the very thing that hurt you immeasurably without care or concern for the damage caused? Translate that into a person. Is it wrong to let intense hatred drive you into hurting even in some small measure or quotient, the very person who hurt you until you bled in a previous instance?

How does one live on with old wounds and hearts? Act or react?

In love with Guy

My heart aches for his love and my soul is saturated with bliss everytime I hear from him. He lives a million miles away from me and I live a million away from him too.

He's been away for close to three and a half years now but the love I feel for him is still growing strong. We had the big "talk" and we decided that we'd be friends since both of us weren't going to see the light of the other for a couple of years. But we're still very much in love.

Everytime I think of a girl he's good mates with, it makes me burn up with jealousy and everytime I share my encounter with a member of the opposite sex, it makes him retreat into a mood that's got "sulking" written all over it. He's in love with my body, my mind and my heart. I'm in love with his love - for me.

Yet we're eachother's closest friends. We're eachother's soul mates. He can't go to sleep without confessing that he had a random sexual encounter with a girl that went horribly wrong, without my being the one to console him after admitting to my share of jealousy. He never misunderstands it, because it's exactly the same feeling that he has for me.

But we are friends. We have no right to be jealous of eachother's relationship woes we are - but friends. We can never be together. We've explored all options and avenues and reached the conclusion that we can survive but on texts and calls to eachother on a weekend.

He is committed and legally bound to live overseas, I am committed to living in the land that I was born in.

3 years have passed.

Still I remain, in love with guy.

Going Back Home

Today I'm going to make my way back into the arms of someone I left a long time ago.
Someone who always knew what was best for me and showed me the way.
Someone I've missed all of my life, someone I've forgotten to acknowledge all of my life.

I'm going home.

When depression hits me

I seem to be having a brush with that age-old fiend "Depression" in some small and disconcerting way. There's a dull sense of hopelessness and lifeless weakness in my bones that's making me trudge around the house in despondent routine.

I seem to be remembering the past quite a bit and longing for happier times and good old days when responsibilities, expectations and pressures to conform were as rare as a winter season in sunny Sri Lanka.

The worst part is that the career move I'm embarking on is going to see a regimented "no entertainment" month for me and this is not the best antedote for an already slightly depressive person like me! I'm going to have to live out the next 30-40 days and see how it goes whilst keeping my concentration levels high and my general positive attitude at its optimum.

What do you do when you get this feeling of lowness that just doesn't seem to go away? What makes you feel sad and lonely? Is it the weather? Is it circumstance?

I have absolutely no idea what to do but I'm waiting for this tide to turn.

Fingers crossed and waiting!!

Tired

Of waking up in the morning to the same routine, day after day after day
Of listening to the same old shows with the same old hosts on the radio
Of reading the same war-centered headlines in the newspapers
Of blogging ...

Life is like an elevator ride!

Just a little thought but isn't life like an elevator and the different floors we each get off at like the different stages of our lives in which we die?

The Ground floor where we all get in is like our birth.

The times others get into the lift at different floors are the times they all start living - some of them later than others.

And when that "ping" sound comes and the door opens for some of us, it's time to GO -To get off the lift of life and leave others behind.

And it's upto us to smile and mingle with those we take the elevator ride with.

Of course we can choose to ignore them and keep looking at the numbers by the door, pre-occupying ourselves with nothingess while we take the ride!

Life sure is like an elevator ride!

:)

Pornography stinks

It *** defiles the marriage bed, causing the subconscious to take over during sex
*** corrupts the mind
*** raises expectations of lovemaking to ridiculous proportions that are dangerously unhealthy
*** is proven to increase tendency towards depression
*** stirs up aggravated feelings of loneliness
*** causes alienation from the real world and distorts reality

Comments? Agree? Disagree?

The broken past and the broken future

Isn't it beautiful the way things have a way of sorting themselves out for the better?

I had the harrowing experience of dating a guy who was a horror as a partner. His temper was one noone could reckon with and his defiance of any type of regulation left him pouting stubbornly or sulking outside the door while I waited anxiously inside, waiting for the moment to pass. He's a guy who would get into fisticuffs if a fly as much as stared at him and no amount of begging and pleading would spare the said fly from his wrath.

Broken tumblers, damaged chinaware and the final act - a walk out with the threatening swear never to step in again would follow every visit to my parent's house and there were days on which I would stand nervously, all alone, partnerless at some wedding or reunion, just because he wasn't in the mood to socialize. Very often he'd stand stoically with an air of indifference as I broke down and cried. My pleas would always fall on intentionally deaf ears and standing dumbly as a lone guest, I would never quite have the right words or excuses to save me from complete embarrassment.

He never made an effort to support the family. I would sometimes beg him to go out there and make a living so that we could support ourselves without being at the mercy of debt-collectors but he was almost always out of work. He couldn't maintain a job because he'd get itchy feet, never able to stay in one place at a time and very often getting into blows with his superiors. Out of the goodness of my heart, I would squeeze out my life's savings just to get us both through the day.

I don't know what it was that separted us as a couple but God knows it was for the best. The agony I could have suffered at his hands would have taken away many years from my existence. I would have lost my smile, my passion and my confidence. He would never have made a good dad to my little kids - my precious children.

Today I'm on my own again, living my life and loving it. But every now and then, I remember the painful past and how bad things could have been and it's a bittersweet feeling I have.

Sorry I bored you guys with all this. I just had to vent it all out.

I want my old Kottu!

We have had Chilli Chocolate, The Real Nibras Bawa, Padashow, Padashow's alter-Ego The Maharajah of Bad ...

Starting things off for us who choose to stand on the sidelines, we are able to watch and read with amusement the insults and counterattacks that are hurled at eachother like a ping pong ball speeding its way to the nether ends of a table tennis table!

Some of us bloggers get involved in the game and express our disdain or approval, condonement or disapproval from time to time. And this has gone on for some months on Kottu, with trolls occupying as much of the traffic as those of us who choose to blog seriously and systematically.

But today I was reading a few posts on some of the blogs belonging to the trolls mentioned above and I felt sick to the stomach at how low the persons maintaining these blogs have stooped. From outing to character assassination to blog analysis (which is getting quite tiresome now), the fun of this whole game seems to have waned off, virtually disappeared and all we get at the end of it is a spoilt sport show that gains absolutely nothing out of this whole exercise.

The funny thing is that there seems to be a new advent to the troll phenomenon. The "counter"-troll or "wanna-be" trolls have emerged out of nowhere and continue to creep into the nooks and corners of the blogsphere, feeding on the posts that others have put up on their respective blogs.

I long for the days when Kottu was clean and troll-free. When the blogsphere was a friendly, intelligent, INTERESTING place that held such comaraderie and sporting spirit among us bloggers.

Whatever happened to the Sri Lankan blogsphere? :( It's just not what it used to be.

Bow in love?

I watched a horror movie with Bow a few days ago and spooked myself out to glory!!! The lights were switched off and the place was full of darkness save the fading light of a flickering street light directly opposite the window on the topmost floor of the apartment. As the protagonists started frantically running helter skelter in the dark, every shock made Bow's body shake with jolts that seemed like electricity bolts going through his body!

Somewhere between the scenes, Bow's hand landed on my jeans and wouldn’t move until I had placed my hand above his elbow. As I felt his shoulder affectionately, his hand took a hold of my fingers and he clasped my hand in his very gently.

As the movie ended and the credits began to roll, my expectation that the clasp that held our hands would break was not to be. It took a long while – the end of the movie virtually forcing him to reluctantly stand up and slip the DVD into his cover. But not before he turned his face and landed an unexpected, loving kiss on my surprised cheek.

Soon afterwards as he moved into the kitchen to fix us both some drinks, he sprang up from behind me and held my shoulders, giving me a hug that lasted a very long time. The hold was almost awkward and I had no choice but to end it by drawing his attention to some obscure detail of a compact disc that lay on his table.

Friends who’ve been with him feel Bow is in love with me. And they are not people to speculate without real reason. Something about the way he reacts when I’m around him makes me wonder if he does in fact have a soft corner in his heart for me. I don’t know.

Guys, reading this, what do you think?

Beautiful Sri Lanka

Choral Tribute by the Methodist College Choir of Colombo

And Kottu delays

It's been close upon 6 hours now and I haven't seen any of my latest posts making it to the syndicated log of posts. But that doesn't mean my blog hasn't been read. Or does it? :)

Anyways.

Does it really matter if bloggers don't read your rants and reviews? There is a quota among us who blog for the sheer love of writing or the opportunity to vent.

But there are still others who sabbotage their own dignity by resorting to more underhand tactics to get hits/lure the reader (who glances through the posts on Kottu's blog roll) to take a look at their respective blogs.

One such blog was that of rehani's whose headlines screamed out a title that included NB's name.

On clicking on the link, what followed was her self-proclamation that is was just a ruse to get some attention. An innovative way of getting one's blog introduced to the blogspere I must say! However, I found her latest cartoon-inspired post rather funny :) especially considering the fact that both RD and NB are bigger than that. Rehani to her credit acknowledges her love for them both and signs out only to be accosted by "Anonymous" who bursts her "right click" bubble!

What I was TRYING to say however, is that we've all gotten a tad too dependent on Kottu for our readership. All with the exception of St. Fallen here who cites a variety of optional alternatives including Google Reader and Achcharu. His main area of concern is that the expansion of Kottu results in an obese result when it comes to what we get on our hands as readers and I must say, he has a valid point.

At the same time it's important to keep in mind the sensitivities of those whose blogs may not be "upto standard" in our opinion. You see it's really difficult to stand in judgment over another person's work mostly because there isn't a standard set by anyone here in the blogging world. Or maybe there is - it's just that we haven't gotten down to identifying it. Adherence to any standard would definitely isolate for example those whose English writing skills are not on par with others which in my opinion wouldn't be fair.

And then you have the trolls and the LATEST albeit annoying addition to the bandwagon, the trolls who TROLL on trolls :)I say annoying, because it seems like such a waste! A waste of space, a waste of URL, a waste of time.

While Indi forces his social acts down our throats these days :)(actually I seriously think he's doing a superb job going out there and working among the IDPs. It kind of makes us wonder what we're doing here in the comfort of our homes and offices) Cerno has been endorsing using the Sri Lanka’s Top 100 Blog Posts Book to raise money to help/rehabilitate internally displaced people (IDPs)

So there you have it. The trolls, the ones who perform noble acts, the newbies, the skeptics - the whole lot of them living under one Kottu roof.

Maybe it IS high time we down-sized just a little bit. Perhaps it would be good if we had an alternative haven we could re-direct the rejects to. Or am I being too classist as a blogger? I don't know :)

One thing I DO know is that the Kottu fraternity is a tightly knitted one that has gotten used to the cynic in-laws who occasionally attempt to disrupt the steady flow of interaction.

Finally, we all come in different shapes and sizes and I wonder if this Kottu plate is enough for us all..

Addicted (fiction)

I have an addiction.
It’s a bad one.
I need help, but
I can’t tell anyone.

It’s something that’s keeping me
enslaved to it,
Yet I can’t seem to
break free from it.

The person who’s enslaving me, is the master of my fate.
And who is this master?
No one
but I.

Where do I go from here?
I feel hopeless.
I feel lost.

I see the rosy hue
It sits confidently on my spectacles.
I dare not wipe it
For fear that I may see the dangerous place I’ve gotten myself into.

Freedom, release, the lightness from it all!
How I long for it.

Bird, oh bird in the sky, why do you fly so high?
We mortals below look at you with envy
We ask to be like you.

Have I come here of my own doing
Only to die in these shoes?
Or am I meant to break free from this all
And run away into the night so you can’t enslave me again

Addiction, I speak to thee
Leave me alone. It is enough!
You have taken away my life’s breaths
And wasted them on mere nothings

Here I will not lie to die in my cage.
The bird is not you tonight, it is I.
Singing this sad, lonely song
As I look beyond the bars that crush my tender bones
And pluck at my feathers – one, by one

Until I die, alone, enslaved and lost
Inseparable from my addiction.

© Justchillin'

Hey my fellow Bloggers on Kottu!!

Complete or continue the following excerpt by leaving comments after the post. I will pick my favourite by the end of the month. Come on, try your hand at it. Good luck!
-justchillin'
_____________________________________________

Amir lay his left elbow against the rough tips of his feather-filled pillow and looked up at the creaking ceiling fan.

Outside, the thin drizzle had begun its nightly ritual of slapping the panes of his window. A thunder shower was emminent and he knew that it would soon drown out the clumsy noise of the bedroom door which would keep banging.

"Thud", "thud", against the cemented white wall, knocked the rough wood of the panels - over and over again.

The night had just begun and the snores of his neighbour confirmed that Amir was alone with his thoughts.

There were no eager human ears to listen to him, no flapping ears or earnest faces.

A sense of loneliness invaded the room and Amir could only lay still.

Memoirs from the past

When he walked out of my life, he never walked out of my heart.

It took me years to forget him. Painful memories would clutch the intestines of my lower abdomen and make my head hurt with a pain that few could heal.

But then there were the friends.

Friends who would comfort me, check up on me and see to it that everything was alright.

And of course he was there. In every town, in every place, from pillar to post, he was there. Nothing could ever help me forget this sweet guy whose lips tasted like salt, whose arms felt so secure.

And here I am in the then and now, loving him all over again. His voice still sends shivers down the base of my spine. He's still the love of my heart.

How does one break a habit?

It’s been 21 years and I haven’t been able to break the habit. 21 years is a long time and the times I’ve tried hard to stay away from it far outnumber the number of months in that amount of years.

How does one break a bad habit? It’s nearly impossible in my opinion. I've tried everything from rewarding myself to staying away from the things that trigger the compulsion to perform the said habit but just when I've thought I was nearing a breakthrough, I've given in and failed. The more I've thought about it, the more I've done it and the less I've tried thinking about it, the more I've given thought to it.

Any suggestions or thoughts on how one could break a habit? Would appreciate your comments and/or experience with the deadly "H" word.

N.B - The habit is not "Heroine" in case you wondered :)

Parents, Parents, Parents!

It’s really hard to make a stand when your opposition is as forceful as all the arguments you could make. What’s even harder is when the pressure to conform comes from no less than one’s parents.

Being an adult, the dynamics are quite different to when you were a child.

As little children we know that deep inside is this knowledge that mom and dad are right about nearly everything and possess at least some experience of a given subject matter in greater proportions that we do. We may know that they are right but we also have our own hazy view of things which we don’t have as much confidence as the enthusiasm to see it through.

Then we grow older and stronger in our opinions, likes and wants. The conflicting views are debated on with as much personal belief as with self confidence and an air of indifference to the consequences of disobedience. Hence the title “rebellious teenager”.

But what do we do when we as adults, disagree with our older parents? How do we stand our ground? Do we? Do we grudgingly compromise for the sake of peace? How do we deal with our parents who have no right or say in the matter but at the same time, need to be handled tactfully and wisely? After all, we being adults ourselves, we cannot resort to the arguing operandi that we did during our growing up years but it’s so darn difficult when we also realize that we aren’t little children anymore isn’t it?

What on EARTH should we do in situations like these? :)

Love letters

When Mohamed Adamally and Tracy Holsinger put together the classiest act I have seen in a long time, I can only imagine the energy that was infused into the parts they played with as much authenticity as the original caste members of “Love Letters” would have given it.

Tracy in particular was outstanding in her role as Melissa who grudgingly adheres to her best friend Andy’s request to keep in touch via the age-old method of letter writing which spans almost 6 decades that see them through childhood, love, disappointments, happy occasions, heartaches, career changes, marriage, senatorship and finally, death.

Andy’s level headedness contrasts with Melissa’s carefree spirit but they both do share a bond - an ability to be themselves with each other and as Tracy and Adam alternate their respective parts with a deftness that makes this friendship come alive, we cannot but help being drawn into their relationship which touches our hearts and moves us as we watch them pick up a paper at a time.

The actors who hold heaps of letters in their hands are able to almost personify the emotions of excitement, inquisitiveness, doubt, confusion, restlessness and lightheartedness - indeed the very essence of its contents as they go through them.

It could be said that the myriad of emotions that interplay as the two characters read each letter one by one, is cleverly brought out through the talent and artistry of the actors who did a great job of a difficult task.

Encounters was simply brilliant. Here’s a hat off to the Performing Arts Company for putting on a show to be reckoned with!

The past few days

The past few days have been amazing. Almost too good to be true for me. I haven't been this happy in a long time and the peace that I am experiencing through every situation, the way I look forward to life and embrace it - knowing that my place in eternity is secure, the thought that my life is actually counting and meaning something has brought me indescribable joy.

Work-wise, I'm actually able to make a difference and the voice that I have has spoken. It speaks, every single time. It isn't been stifled or looked over, ignored or given second place. My voice has been given its moment at just the right time and it's a beautiful feeling!

I know this post doesn't make any sense and most of you wouldn't know what on earth I'm talking about but I just can't contain my thankfulness to God for giving me this joy that I carry with me, this peace that makes is possible to live my life anew and make up for all the mistakes of the past.

Family and friend-wise, I'm living my life over and things haven't been this good in a long time. I've started and learned to forgive others ever so easily now. I've come to know myself in ways that I never did before. I've become someone completely new. I feel like a different person! I'm enjoying life completely and it's a beautiful, peaceful easy feeling (as the Eagles would put it!)

I'm truly thankful and ecstatically happy!

Not that good second time around!

Perhaps it's the fact that Susan Boyle was nothing short of absolute brilliance in her very first performance when she stunned the judges and indeed the audience with her breathtaking rendition of "I dreamed a Dream" during her first audition.

Perhaps the fact that she brings with her to stage, the highest expectations of perfection in performance which in turn causes her to feel the pressure and indeed the nerves.

Whatever the reason may be, Susan's semi-final performance of the Andrew Loyd Weber classic "Memories" was in my view, a tad below par (as by her own standards).

As the inimitable Simon Cowell would say (but didn't on this occasion), it "certainly wasn't" her best performance.

While Boyle sailed into the semis and had resounding acceptance from the audience as well as the judges who hardly had a negative word to say to her, it needn't have taken an expert to note that her semis performance was a nervous one. She was off pitch in several key points in the melody - indeed her first word "memories" starting on an off note which surprisingly, went unnoticed by the usually keen-eared judges who had nothing short of good things and supportive comments for the Scottish singer, when judging time came around. There were times when Susan ran ahead of the melody, her words clashing with the backing tracks and distracting the listener from enjoying her performance in entirety. All in all, her previous rendition of the Les Miserables classic was far ahead in terms of excellence.

Still for all, the "frumpy" singer looks all set to take the title and I personally hope she walks away with the crown. She deserves it.

The desire of her heart she says, is to sing for the Queen as is possible on winning the competition.

The Queen had better get ready to be blown away!

Gifted

Dog tired after a superb treck down south, I sat down at my PC and remembered the words of my sister – the sweet, elder sister of mine who told me during what was a very poignant moment of my dealings with her child, that I have a gift. Something that makes me come down to the level of a child no matter what his age, no matter what his background. Those words felt like a welcome splash of icy chilling water on a hot and humid day. We all love compliments but when it comes from your own kith and kin, it’s just especially different isn’t it?

I remembered the moment when my cousin inter-twined her fingers with mine as she walked up and down her garden - something she doesn’t do with anybody else, and I wondered whether my sister was right then in what she said. There was another moment far back in the 90s when a little Australian kid who hates to be with people just wouldn’t leave my side and actually cried when I moved back to Colombo. I still remember the way he sat as close as he could to me in the backseat of his dad’s car and held my hand as we went on those dare-devil motorbike rides together!

And then there is the misunderstood little girl I taught a couple of years back, who had been written off by almost all of her teachers. She was stubborn, arrogant and haughty and no one could crack the hard shell that encompassed her heart. No one but me. She pretty much melted. Melted to the extent of bringing me a rose one day and telling me that she loves me more than she does her own mother.

I know this post may sound too full of self-glorification! I assure you that wasn’t my intention. I'm just typing on my keyboard while I'm thinking out loud...

I feel I may be having a gift then, that’s going to give me a job in addition to the one I have already. My current job is fulfilling and I’m doing so well here! If I were to use my so called gifts, I would have to plunge into something that’s going to take a lot of time and energy off the one that I’m doing now. Not that I’ll give up my present job but I’m seriously considering working two jobs in the soon-to-come future.

On a closing note, it’s my sister who made me feel good about myself by suggesting that I’m gifted and that meant much to me, almost to the point of re-directing my life. I’d like to suggest in return, that you (whoever you maybe who’s reading this right now!!) have a gift too. Something that makes you special. Something that is unique to you. May you find it, if you haven’t already... even if you are in a mundane job that doesn’t seem cut out for you, may you find one that enables you to give of yourself to others. Your unique, one-in-a-million self.

And if by chance you feel that you aren't gifted? I assure you you are. We all are, one way or another. Never look a gift horse in the mouth they say... :)

Have a great June month!

We're only human

Mike Tyson’s little girl died tragically when her head got entangled with a machine which her mom was able to save her from. But not before the damage was already done. A few minutes later the child was pronounced dead.

For those of you who grew up in the 80s, you would remember the heavyweight champion as being the Ali of our times.

Tyson was also known for his aggression and “bad boy” behaviour. Having been accused of raping a young contestant of a beauty pageant, he served his term stoically, refusing to admit that he had anything to do with her – a claim he stands by to date.

His reputation in the ring took a dramatic turn when he bit off the ear of his opponent - Evander Holyfield, an event the few of us who saw will never forget. I can still remember the shock waves it sent round the boxing arena. The cover page of the TIME magazine splashing a bleeding Holyfield right across its front page as the fans that were on Tyson’s side hastily retreated on to the side of his opponent.

Tyson is not the only celebrity to grieve over the loss a child. Steven Curtis Chapman, John Travolta, Eric Clapton – they’ve all lost their kids as a young age. Eric Clapton’s little boy fell of the balcony of his apartment and was killed instantly. Yet another celebrity’s son accidentally reversed onto his little brother, killing him with that knock of death.

Today we have Yahoo headlines and Google news scooping up the entertainment news for us. “Mike Tyson’s daughter dies after tragic accident”.

Today we also have millions of internally displaced people who have lost their little ones to the war. Either voluntarily or by force, these kids have joined the movement and lost their lives to its futile cause.

The civilian families who are seeking shelter and sustenance are also families that have grieved over the disappearance, abduction or killing of their son. Their daughters have paraded the fields of LTTE training camps and worn those cyanide capsules of death. They have been taken at a ripe age, plucked out of their parent’s homes and used up for the activities of the organization.

Their daughters too have died after tragic accidents. Their killing was not purposeful. It happened in the name of war. However they were not voluntary pursuits of death. They had but little choice.

Too late now. They are far gone. But spare a thought for the families out there who are grieving and getting through their days with these losses in their hearts. They may hardly bring it to the notice of those around them. Indeed, their first priority is resettlement and care but we ought to remember there are millions of people in our own land, who are feeling the very same emotions that that brutal, aggressive heavyweight it feeling right now.

We’re only human after all.

Living the dream

There was a time when darkness hovered around my existence and clouded my judgment and self-belief, strangling my sanity into fragments of insecurity, fear, loneliness and inadequacy, when confusion and the terror of the nights made all of my worst nightmares come true. I have suffered in the past and been through the worst of times in my life.

9 years out of that hell hole that was life, the dramatic turn that my life has taken is nothing short of a miracle.

I look at my sad, oftentimes dark journey through life and look back at the paths that have been mud-splashed with loneliness and fear, terror and heartbreak and look at myself in the here and now. Could this all be a dream?

Fast forwarding into life today, I’m a beautiful woman who is in shape, with a figure I never had before. If I may say so myself, I have a beautiful body and I remember a time when I had too many sorrows in my heart to even take care of myself. I would never have thought that I’d be looking as pleasing as I do and feeling so good, too!

My work gives me so much joy and satisfaction that it’s mind boggling that I should be in this place, doing what I’ve dreamt of doing from the time I was a kid. When I think about it, this is what I wanted to the “d”. It’s the exact same vocation I used to daydream about and my personality compliments it as much as my passion and heart do.

I have found myself, and find contentment in EVERYTHING. No matter who I am with or where I have gone, I’m the same consistent person and the peace is something that’s in the core of my being. I know exactly who I am and there are no more hard efforts to “fit in” or gain approval. My confidence is in my own philosophy and that philosophy has been the key to my success.

So many years ago, I felt like an “also ran” one of many who idolized a certain person who I would look at from afar and wish I could just catch a glimpse of. I remember just remaining there, alone, gazing long after the rest of the crowd went away, so full of admiration for this person.

And now?

Here I am, loving the best friend of my life, that SAME person I adored so many years ago, a man that others were crazy about, who never took notice of their attention-getting moves and offers to cook his dinners and lunches or constant encircling but fell completely in love with - me.

He’s the one who’s there to talk to be it night or day. The one I can call up in the wee hours of the morning or the latest stroke of midnight. He holds me when I’m crying and comforts me when I’m sad. He argues with those who he thinks may even vaguely utter a bad word about me and tells them that he will never hear a word if it’s something about his best friend. He cleans up after me and feels my head while I sleep against him. He holds my hand when we cross the streets. He’s the person who’s always been there for me and reflected my best qualities back to me.

The time we spent together today will always be in my memory. I will never forget the movies he brought to my remembrance. One about a faithful wife who remains sweet in the midst of her husband’s adversity and the other about Julia, the beautiful girl who proves that good girls don’t finish last. He reminded me about all those things that I once loved doing. Like the beauty of a movie and its power to distract you to the point of absorbing a fairy-tale. He showed me the efficacy of movies in teaching me about life and intellectualism. But more than that, he just brought me joy, comfortability and drew light on the ADULT that I am, and that is what I treasure the most, about him.

All in all I’m having an amazing re-run of my life, and I just can’t thank God enough for it. It’s all a dream, and I’m living that dream.

Pada Show comments :)

I'm sorry to deviate from the usual posts but I couldn't help wanting to share excerpts from "Padashow"'s post about my blog which had me in stiches!!! Here are a few of the things he had to say, said in its funniest form which is why I'm highly tickled :)

"The moment this page loads your eyes are assaulted by something that looks like it was shat out of satan’s dog. Such a perversion of a blogger template we have never laid eyes on before."

"Don’t bother reading the content, there is none. This pada-head thinks he/she/it will be found more interesting by copy-pasting a dictionary definition into the about box. No you fuckwit, it just makes you look even more shallow than you are, which is about as shallow as a mud puddle on the surface of the sun."

Hillarious!!! Whatsmore, after Padashow critiques my dictionary definition of the word "chill" and expresses how horrified he is by the blinding glare of my template, he goes on to say ..

"Put yourself through the torture of reading text that is just glaring back at you and you will see that really, you would rather kill yourself than read"

Finally he ends up by calling my blog a blog of "deranged ramblings" :)

"You are too confused to be alive. Please go use this ’spiritual, mental, emotional and social tool’ to dispatch you to the depths of hell where you belong and nobody but the vilest creatures of this planet will have to listen to your deranged ramblings."

If there ever was a more entertaining troll, I'd challenge him to combat "padashow" who definitely made my day.. :)

Shaheen or Susan?

AUDITION

He started off a young 12 year old singer auditioning hot on the heels of Britain's sensational find Susan Boyle. Belting out an Amy Winhouse classic, Shaheen Jafargholi was halted midway (and the crowds gasped as did the comperes) by Simon Cowell who said he'd gotten it all wrong. Cowell asked him to sing another song.

The soundtrack of Michael Jackson's "Who's Loving You" began to play conveniently (which confirmed my belief that a lot of these talent shows are staged) and Shaheen started crooning, immediately winning the hearts of the judges who were stunned by his cover (which sounded as good as any little boy's rendition of that song)

SEMIFINAL

Sailing through to the semifinals, Shaheen has made headlines again. Singing the Jennifer Hudson track "I'm Telling You" has made him an overnight sensation all over again and people think he is tipped to beat Susan Boyle at the Finale.

But have you given a listen to Shaheen's performance? It's been nothing short of a ear-sore in my humble opinion. His vocals are forced and adopted. His singing is not his own. He seems to be imitating a forced impression of something far bigger than he is. It's an expressionless farce of an imitation that requires no inborn talent.

Susan Bolye in contrast is streets ahead. A genuine good find, an actually talented singer. But guess what! Britain thinks otherwise and are now of the opinion that Shaheen is a frontrunner who could go on to win this competition.

Britain's got talent. Or have they? They definitely don't have the best of jurisdiction. It would be tragically sad if this competition didn't belong to Susan Boyle.

Anyone agrees with me?

Affair with myself

Today is definitely a very special day in my life, because it’s a day when I learnt to love myself and connect with who I am.

“Love yourself?” you may ask. It’s a simple thing isn’t it? Loving yourself is something almost anyone would do.

So you would think. Well I didn’t. Not until today.

You see I had grown distant from myself and started self-doubting to almost dangerous proportions of lows. I had quit talking to myself, finding out what I think, what I like, what I feel … the interaction I had with myself had stopped almost months, if not years ago.

I realized that my life-schedule was such that I had busied myself with the affairs of activity and its many duties and rituals which were burning me out and making me someone that was barely recognizable to my own self.

The danger in that happening is that you no longer know who are and therefore have troubling understanding yourself. When you have trouble understanding yourself, there is precious little one can do in your time of worry, trouble, anxiety and perplexing need, to help you out and get you into a position in which you could be satisfied and at peace again. Because you lose who you are in the process, and it’s seldom easy to find yourself in a hurry in situations that pose more than a dilemma at a time.

Today all that changed. I took time to get to know me again. - To listen to my own heartbeat, - to get to know how I’ve been doing all these months and years, - to rid myself of all those old hurts and mistakes, prejudices and impulsive wrongs – all of which I had gone through in my life the past couple of months.

- To ask myself why I had gotten myself into those situations and to try and understand myself.

- To be gentle with myself and see myself through the eyes of the eternal God and not my own selfish eyes.

- To know when to draw the line when it came to believing myself and what I know to be true as opposed to what the world has to offer.

- To not be afraid but merely to understand with wise and sound perception that there truly is a difference and to not be afraid to live in that difference.
Today was indeed epiphanic and I’m thankful for this day. This beautiful day that God gave me.

A comic look at language!

The aim of language is not merely to convey an idea that needs to be expressed. Not always do we use words to intentionally communicate a thought in our minds, to someone else. "What??" you may ask. Well, in order to prove that the aim of language is not merely to state out thoughts and our feelings, let us consider a few instances when we use language mechanically.

Greetings like “good morning” or “ayubowan” in Sri Lanka. It is customary to say “Good morning” or “ayubowan” when we meet or greet a person. But do we really at that moment wish that person good life or a good morning with all our heart? No we don’t. Although we may say “good morning” we may be thinking about something else.

So we see that the aim of language used in saying “good morning” or “ayubowan” is not to state our thoughts. It is the same with the colloquial expression “how is life?” or “how are things with you”. We may ask a person how he/she is keeping but we may not really want to know. Thus we expect a simple answer like “okay” or “fine, thank you”. Even the utterance “thank you” is made more as a courtesy than as a means of expressing inner gratitude. Language is used out of courtesy.

When we meet a person who’s sweating in the sun, we sometimes stop to say “the sun is very hot today”. Do we really mean to tell him something that he already knows? No we don’t. We just mechanically say these things in order to establish social-public relations. Sometimes our thoughts are far away but we don’t want to seem rude so we just say “yes” or “I know”. Language is used to be diplomatic.

Exclamations we make when lifting something together or alone, expressions used by sportsmen and women – they only help to lessen the burden. Language is used to release energy. When we are in intense pain, we shout or scream. When we are angry, we raise our voices. We sometimes shout at people but then when we are calmer, we regret what has been said. We ask forgiveness for saying things we “didn’t mean”.

When friends get together, they fool each other. They tell each other jokes. One may tell another “you’re so proud that your head is up in the clouds” but a little while later he says “I was just joking”. This is because he was not in fact serious – he did not really mean that his friend is so proud that his head is up in the clouds. He was just using language to entertain his friend – to entertain himself by fooling his friend.

Little children recite nursery rhymes. Language is used to sing “Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?” But when the child sings “have you any wool?” the child does not mean to actually ask a sheep whether it has any wool. When children play “what’s the time Mr. Wolf?” do they actually talk to a wolf, do they actually want to know the time? No. For language is merely being used with the aim of having fun, being a part of the game.

The language used for songs too proves that the aim of language is not only to let our thoughts be known. We often sing songs when we are alone, when we are bored – yet we do not mean the words we sing. When rocking little children to sleep, we sing soft lullabies, though the child cannot hear. We sing to little babies, yet we know that they cannot understand.

We sometimes talk to animals while lovingly stroking and petting them. In our grief we sometimes talk to the dead person in the coffin. We ask “why did you have to die?” But we don’t mean what we say to the extent that we don’t expect out language to communicate with that person. Yet though we know that that person can’t hear us, we continue to talk to him as if he were alive.

At religious ceremonies, temples, devalayas, language is greatly used as chants and verses. Yet those who listen and take part in the ceremonies don’t really understand what is being said. Language is used with the aim of gaining psychological relief. When taking office, when a person is sworn in, when a person takes oaths etc, though language is being used, it is used more as a requirement than as a means for expressing oneself.

Thus we see that the aim of language is not merely to communicate our thoughts.

Language (and its usage) is a spiritual, mental, emotional and social tool that we use everyday, unknowingly almost mechanically but more as a necessity than to communicate our thoughts.

Little paws

Something I've noticed on my jaunts up and down the street are how the little pawmarks of a puppy appear on surfaces when I least expect it!

Be it on a rough edged pavement or a smooth side walk, the cement shows the scampering of a little doggy's feet that appears to have cristened the virgin wet cement long enough to have made permanent imprints.

Have you chanced to notice tarred/cemented sidewalks and pavements exhibiting these puppy-paw hickies, too?

The singing lesson

“The Singing Lesson” by Katherine Mansfield is a piece of prose that does more than merely describe a singing lesson in a music hall. One of the features of this excerpt is that it is an exploration of many ideas, the chief of which may be that a teacher’s personal life and disappointment can affect every other sphere of her life and work.

The central character and subject of this passage is Miss Meadows and through the author’s characterization, we get an insight into human nature. The prose begins with Miss Meadows trodding the corridors of the music hall with despair in her heart while the girls around her hurry, skip and flutter by. Here the sharp contrast between the fluttering girls and the trodding Miss Meadows, the feelings within oneo and the glee and excitement of the other help to heighten our awareness of Miss Meadows as a symbolic figure of isolation and despair.

Not only is there a contrast of moods between the bubbling girls and the despairing Miss Meadows but also a contrast between Miss Meadows and another character – the Science Mistress. The discourse between them conveys much in terms of different traits in human beings. Miss Meadows is bitter and full of hatred as she stares at the Science Mistress while the Science Mistress is a symbol; of artificiality as she drawls during her conversation “Good mor-ning” “win”ter” “fro-zen”. Thus the language supports the characterization of the Science Mistress. The use of a series of adjectives and nouns further emphasizes the insincerity and gloom of the Science Mistress. For example – the Science Mistress’s “sweet, affected” drawl, her “sugary smile” and “mocking light” in her eyes and the “grim” answer and quick grimace of Miss Meadows.

Having analyzed the author’s device of contrasting characters within a setting, we see how the setting (not only of the “cold corridors: that lead to the music hall but) the setting ofd the music hall itself represents Miss Meadows’ state of mind. The visual and acoustic images too are effective in emphasizing the mournful tone of the piece - “down came Mary on the opening chord, down came all those left hands, beating the air and in chimed those young, mournful voices”.

The author’s use of metaphors and similes to describe the effect the latter has on Miss Meadows is potent. Miss Meadows hugs “the knife”. The despair – cold, sharp despair is buried deep in her heart like a wicked knife. She stands there bleeding to death, pierced to the heart, to the heart by such a letter.

The unvarying monotony of the routine of the singing lesion is depicted through Mary Beazley’s motioning rather than the handing of a beautiful yellow chrysanthemum to her mistress. This is referred to as a “little ritual” that had been going on for “ages and ages” and as much a part of the lesson as opening the piano”. The implications of these lines convey the repetitive, dull motions of the class through authorial comment.

Katherine Mansfield illustrates another human trait – that of self-absorption in times of personal grief. Having pronounced the effect of the letter on Miss Meadows, the author goes on to depict the manner in which others are affected too, as a result of Miss Meadows”totally” ignoring everything and everyone around her. The manner in which her glance sweeps over the students as she looks at nobody, the way in which she assumes her students to be thinking “Meady is in a wax” and the manner in which she defies them in general is an indication of her pre-occupation with herself. Yet the effect that self enthrallment in her moment of personal despair has on Mary Beazley confirms the examination of this human tendency to neglect and ignore others at a time of personal crisis.

Miss Meadows totally ignores the chrysanthemum to Mary’s “horror”. She makes no reply to her greetings but speaks in a “voice of ice” (another metaphor that is used to illustrate Miss Meadow’s tone). Mary blushes as tears stand in her eyes. It is a “staggering moment” for Mary, but Miss Meadows was “gone back to the music stand”.

Finally, “The Singing Lesson” is didactic in conveying the manner in which moods change because of external events. The contents of the letter are heartbreaking to the extent of having the power to influence the countenance, spirit, and mood of not only Miss Meadows but eventually all those in the music hall. The choice and lyrics of the song “A Lament” express Miss Meadow’s state of mind. Thus a fine autumn morning “yields into winter drear”. The deafening noise of chatter changes into a chime of “young mournful voices”

Thus “The Singing Lesson” gives great significance to a letter and its consequent result on the moods of a series of people who are subsequently affected by that initial reaction of “sharp despair: in the heart of Miss Meadows. Therefore it is a piece of writing that reveals the author’s sensitivity and effort to successfully convey the consequences of human grief not only on the grieved (Miss Meadows) but all those she comes in contact with.

© Slow Chills

Wednesdays at the bone orchard

This story is an Orchardeer’s narration of what goes on at the bone orchard on a Wednesday. It is a description of the Orchardeer’s routine of disposing body parts in the form of “deliveries” to their “owners”.

There is perhaps a conscious under-rating and trifling of the solemn task which is subtle to the extent of actually intensifying the reality of what happens at the bone orchard and the feelings of the Orchardeers who work there. For the portrayal of the entire process of handling these body parts, is made accurate and realistic through the unemotional description and analysis of what is a frequent occurrence there. There is also a sense if credibility in the narration as the Orchardeers are not mere spectators but speak from experience as they are directly involved in the process described in these lines. – “we collate body parts”. “We slide howsoever many parts there are…”, “we have no bureau of complaints”. The narrator speaks for all the Orchardeers by not limiting himself/herself to a first person account of a single Orchardeer. (though there IS an instance when he/she briefly steps out of the scene by commenting that “the Orchardeers cannot care where they are sent”)

The Orchardeer depicts the activities of collating, arranging and shipping of body parts as being work done mechanically, with no demonstration of sentiment and no significance placed on the fact that these are parts of humans that are being dealt with. There is a total lack of regular meter, rhythm and rhyme as the author uses the technique of using a direct, straightforward arrangement of words that are free from poetical measures. This perhaps highlights the absence of shock, hysteria and any display of emotion in the Orchardeer.

The author’s use of words is effective in conveying a sense of instant de-humanixation in the Orchardeer’s handling of body parts. The total inanimation of the parts of dead bodies at the bone orchard is made extremely obvious as the author (Orchardeer) refers to “body parts”, “deliveries”, “body parts manufactured overseas”, “ears and limbs” that are intact etc.

The reader is able to recognize and engage with the reality of what is depicted here, for although there is a reference to U.S. Savings bonds, the reality of the death of loved ones who are at war away from “home folks” is universal. This may or may not be a personal event, but it IS a recognizable one; for although the “U.S.” is cited here, this text is not culturally alien to the reader. The reader can relate to the experience (even if not of the Orchardeers or even a recipient’s) at least as one who is familiar with the knowledge of its occurrence.

The visual image of “contents” that are “confused” – the visual description of “green plastic bags and manila name tag” contribute to the making of a distinct mental picture of the activity at the bone orchard in the reader’s mind.

These lines do more than just provide an account of a typical Wednesday at the bone orchard; as they are indirectly draw the reader’s attention to the manner in which “owners” may be deceived if they believe their “deliveries” to contain only the parts of their loved ones.

There is a tone of indifference to (and yet an attitude of awareness of) the unavoidable irregularities that take place and cannot be helped as the Orchardeers tamper with the contents in the packages revoking name tags and sliding in parts. The Orchardeer’s knowledge of the responsibility of sending the “right package to the home folks” becomes ironic as he/she soon after, states: “BUT the green plastic bags and manila name tags are revoked here”.

There is also a hint of irony in the process of ceremoniously dispatching these body parts that still for all, are confused but “rare refused”.

There is a tone of sensitivity (as the Orchardeers “gently” slide parts into the wrapping so they won’t “jar the hearts of the receivers”) and a lack of it (as the Orchardeers “cannot care where they are sent”) not only on the part of the Orchardeers but the recipients too, who “faint and/or put the contents on display”. The author’s tone becomes formal as he/she uses the words “and/or” to describe the varied responses of the recipients.

These lines take on a satiric mode as the author displays his/her knowledge of the compensation forwards to the families of the dead and the sundry of uses they make of it to do whatever they may choose. “Purchase U.S. savings bonds, use it for a trip abroad, or erect a memorial they could not once afford”. Yet the humour is subtle and may escape the reader, as any attempt to be skeptical is not made too obvious as the prediction of the use of the “sum” that is forwarded is not exaggerated or completely untrue, but highly probably as they can “do whatever they may choose”.

Thus the Orchardeer’s narration of “Wednesdays at the bone orchard” may be seen not only as an honest depiction of the reality and inevitabilities that follow death (possibly on the battle field) and becoming “body parts” but also a depiction of the Orchardeers and a reflection of their attitude as they handle and unite body parts with its recipients.

© Slow Chills