Would You Like To Be A Mummy?

I found this on Egyptology News (do NOT ask me what I was doing on that blog).


Have you ever considered leaving behind a long lasting legacy by donating your body to science?

If so, we are seeking someone who would like to be the subject of a scientific documentary that explores mummification: the Ancient Egyptian process that is used to preserve the body.

We are a London based television company producing a documentary on modern mummification for the purposes of scientific research. The documentary will be filmed in the US and Egypt and will focus on an individual who has chosen to have their body embalmed and mummified, or preserved long term, after death.

This is an opportunity to be part of major groundbreaking medical (and ecological) research. And the results of this research will be published in an internationally pre-eminent science magazine, and the story both personal and scientific will be told through the documentary.

LOL.

Hot Chocolate

This is my new friend that has been faithfully accompanying me while I struggle to write THE book of the 21st century. Okay maybe that's going too far, but lately getting any writing done has been a pain.

(I am in in no way associated with Higgins & Burke. I just really like their hot chocolate. Gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. =)

I am the chocolateologist!

It's funny how all my blog addresses are all about food.

Sweet, sugary food.

Tomorrow will be a better day

The prompt for this piece was rather tricky. I struggled quite a bit with the tense, as well as sticking to including all the words.

Random selections by all members rendered the following results:

Starts with: Lately I have been unable to tolerate

Setting: On a blind date

Vocabulary to include: book, quill, pregnant, miniature and wine

Lately I have been unable to tolerate the way my unborn child has been frivolously toying with my emotions.

'It's your hormones, not your child," my gynaecologist tried to explain to me numerous times. All this science stuff never made any sense to me. I wish it had, then at least I would have interpreted the basic functionality of the condom accurately.

Education had always been a tough sell to me. I had failed and dropped out in the ninth grade. I kept promising myself that I would go back to finish, but I had to factor in all that time for procrastination.

I finally agreed to employ some other distraction methods from my bloating belly. My best friend, who goes by her stripper name even on her off days - Hot Cocoa (because of her rich dark complexion) - set me up on a blind date with one of her less greasy clients. He was twelve years my senior, collected ancient miniature dolls and drank only wine. He sounded fancy.

"You'll like 'im. He don't grab like the rest of 'em. He also got a thing for woman with child," she added.

We agree to meet at a nearby Chinese restaurant. He saunters in twenty minutes late - pot bellied, slightly balding and round faced - holding daisies and a souvenir quill pen. I get up to say hello and his gaze is immediately directed towards my blossoming belly.

"Presents for the new mommy," he drawls, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth.

My pregnancy has made me sensitive to strong floral smells so whilst I make a dash for the bathroom, the restaurant manager disposes off the daisies. A post-mortem on the date results in the conclusion that it was a sufficient disaster.

I threw up twice, he tried to desperate grab at me several times each resulting in me slapping his chubby wrist, and finally he managed to get drunk enough to fall off his chair.

I went home that night, made myself a cup of hot cocoa and sat in front of the television stroking my belly. My child was arriving in three months. Ever since I was able to make decisions I seemed to pick the wrong path. The child deserved a real father, and a mother who was not a miserable screw up. I picked up the remaining cocoa and poured it in the sink. I started up the computer and finished the appeal letter for my re-enrolment. Tomorrow will be a better day.

Stephanie

Prompt at Saturday Morning Writers was images of men dressed in effeminate clothing, so naturally, I thought of drag queens. =)

In a confusion of pink smoke, gliter and adrenaline, Stevie gathered up his Renaissance inspired dress and ran off the tiny stage with the crowd roaring and clapping behind him.

He sat down with a relieved sigh in his warm dressing room and closed his eyes. It was his last night performing before he was due for surgery. He opened his eyes and looked in the mirror between the brightly lit bulbs of the dressing table. Stevie was Stephanie every night after nine o clock.

He leaned in further and ran his fingers down his jawline. The masculine face, caked with cheap drugstore foundation, the inch long faux eyelashes, excessive gliter around the eyes, and bright red lipstick - now smudged - rendered him virtually unrecognizable from the boy that once used to play fotball and box professionally. There was no looking back now.

Tomorrow Steviw would morph into Stephanie forever and the eliminated appendate would take with it his past.

Indian Wedding

My very old friend, Dolly, is getting married this entire week (that's right, Indian weddings never end!). This is her Indian wedding in full glory. Amidst all the guests, family, temple staff, can you spot the bride and groom?

The Religion of Chocolateology

Because of my mad obsession for chocolate and my discontent towards religion, I started up my own religion - The Religion of Chocolateology.

Chocolateology is a common religion shared by devout chocolateologists. We are bound by our faith towards chocolate in its purest form, unspoilt by cheap preservatives and blasphemous substitutes.

Our faith centers around endorphins and belief in the happy.Serious chocolatetologists can embark on the journey to Chocoholism several times a year and reach nirvana.

Join me in this wonderful cause!

General Motors Diet

Hips don't lie indeed, so I have decided to embark upon the General Motors diet starting from this Saturday!

The diet is supposed to wash out your toxins and help you lose a few pounds along the way as well. Considering that I'll be spending this whole week at my friend's wedding, I might as well start as soon as I can!

From the information obtained at healthmad.com, the diet goes something like this:

Day One:

I can eat all the fruits I want except for bananas. Works well for me, I don't particularly care for bananas.

Day Two:

I add vegetables today to my diet, but eliminate the fruit. The "cheating" here counts as adding butter or salad dressing.

Day Three:

A mixture of fruit and vegetables. I see myself faltering between day 2 and 3. But I'm telling myself to be strong!!

Day Four

This is pretty crazy because the diet says to eat up to EIGHT bananas and drink THREE glasses of milk. Crazy crazy crazy.

Day Five

This day adds in the lean meat and calls for the additional consumption of six tomatoes. It reminds you politely to increase your water intake by 1/4. I'm going crazy just while reading this!

Day Six

I can eat unlimited amounts of lean meat and vegetables. The diet claims that by this day, I should feel myself getting full pretty quickly too.

Day Seven

Finally finally finally, the end of the race! I can eat brown rice, fruit and vegetables. CARBS!!

Things I CANNOT eat:

Alcohol

Chocolate

Processed food

I can do this!

One Love - Playing for Change

I found another video by Playing for Change. Needless to say, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

Enjoy.

Beer & Sausages

In true German spirit, I swayed from my weekly ritual of writing at Starbucks and headed out to Brotzeit for some good ol' fashioned beer and sausages at 4 in the afternoon.

Cheers! Foam, beer, and big jooosy Gerrrman sausages!

These were HALF portions! Imagine what the full one would look like!

Sexy chick!

The food terrorist

Day 30 of NaNoWriMo

In case you were living under a shell and completely unaware as to what NaNoWriMo is/was, it is National Novel Writing Month.

Keen writers are encouraged to begin on their projects for which they have long procrastinated. Like myself.

More can be discovered at http://nanowrimo.org.

Oh and December is for editing.

Happy writing!

Have iPhone, Will Write.

As a struggling writer, I often struggle with the task of organizing my ideas, thoughts, sporadic bursts of inspiration and the occasional chapter I manage to produce. No matter how much I love organizing all my neat little writings in my pink Vaio, I would still be happier if I benefited from convergent technology since the 2.5kg machine is a bit difficult to maneuver.

Being an iPhone possesser, I dug up some pretty nifty applications that assist disorganized writers like myself to keep everything consistent and accessible.

Explaining to non-tech nerds everywhere in girlspeak:

1. My Writing Nook

This started off as a web based program that eventually developed its own iPhone application (like everyone else, doh). It has the same functionality as Google Docs and even uses the google platform to sign in! So users need a google account if they want to use MWN.

It is a pretty basic application with two major frames. There is a writing window for a continuous outpouring of thoughts while the other section organizes your chapters in alphabetical order. While I'm suitably in agreement with the way it works, I am yet to figure out how I can reorganize my chapters.

Props to the creators for making it super easy to use, although the iPhone application is only compatible with the 3.1 Software update. For $1.99, I'd say sure, why not?

iPhone display of My Writing Nook

My Writing Nook on the web

2. Writer's Block Buster

This application claims that it can cure writer's block by allowing you to search through their large database (300) of "questions and explanations for different things that may be causing or lead to a cure to your writer's block." Categories include plot development, writing mechanics, dialogue, nonfiction & technical, journalism, The Random Bin, and even a "Punctuation Guide".

The application boasts of a "Muse and Scenario" generator/storage engine in which you can keep track of the characters and plotlines in your story. Although some of the tips and suggestions look helpful, I highly doubt an iPhone application can cure a serious bout of writer's block. My prescription for this ailment is usually to take some time off, try something (or even someone) new and revisit the writing desk. Sometimes even a change in setting, such as writing outdoors in the garden instead of your regular cafe or the study can be a welcome change.

$3.99 to frantically search for a muse? Hmm, maybe not?

3. Professional Woman: Writing Assistant

Another writer's block application by the same people who brought you Writer's Block Buster, but this time targeted at the "polished" professional woman, which probably explains the pink/purple theme of the application. The app generates characters, scenarios, plotlines, places, you name it, it has it (according to the creators at Socially Conscious Software).

"Over 300 hand written, thought provoking questions are designed to help you break through writer's block, learn useful tips and expand your horizons." Also priced at $3.99. (Photo unavailable)

4. Story Tracker

This is a really interesting application, but more applicable for the freelancer or established writer who juggles various assignments. Story Tracker allows you not only to keep track of your stories/articles/blurbs etc, but also the income you generate from them. The app comes with an embedded web browser which enables you to search various markets for assignments and add them to your list.

Articles are categorized alphabetically, with each article assigned its own details including the title, market, due date, whether it has been published, rejected or sold as well as the income generated from it. Lastly, it comes with a general statistics page so the user can keep track of his or her productivity.

All in all, a win! Right now it is going at a 50% discount at $4.99. (Photo unavailable)

Guess what kids are wearing!

I was at Forum Shopping Mall over the weekend and I saw this in the Guess Kids window. Why on earth would someone dress their kids up in the most disturbing fashion ever? Super tight skinny jeans? Check. Shiny pink hooker-like shoes? Check. Bicycle chain hanging low around the neck? Check. Leather strap? Hell yeah!

I say that we start a "Give Children Back Their Childhood Movement"

Sephora Sale at Suntec

For anyone who is interested?

Forgiveness

The prompt for one of this Saturday Morning Writers' was "She shrugged her shoulders and said, I don't know why...". My version of the prompt continues below.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know why I didn't come, " quoting the popular Norah Jones song.

The song brought me back to my days when my primary residence was a subway platform. I used to sleep on the cold vibrating floor with a ripped leather jacket as my pillow and newspapers for warmth. The smell of urine, smoke and petrol fumes collectively pierced my nostrils creating a fake high when I was short on cocaine or cough syrup.

The subways were the lost city of Atlantis to your average homeless drug addict. Dealers lurked conspicuously in the form of hot dog vendors, peddling their wares. All one had to do was utter the magic word.

Every morning, Juarez, my dealer and friend, would set up his cart at the entrance and blast his Norah Jones CD and tried to sing along to it. "I don't know why I didn't come..." That was basically the only line he knew in the entire song.

I don't know why I had snorted cocaine in those days. I don't know I had dropped out of high school. I don't know why I had no place to live. I don't know why I had no money. I shuddered from the memories.

The physical pain had vanished with few traces, but the mental effects surfaced from time to time. Walking into a room and suddenly realizing, "I don't know why I came it," or the nightmares that drench me constantly in sweat twice or thrice a week. I will never know why I did what I did, but I do know what I am doing now.

I smiled and took her arm, "I forgive you, let's go."

Pinked up!

I wore my pinkest dress to work.

I love pink.

The Rubbish We Like to Call the Indian Music Industry

I found a totally mad song my friend and myself had created. We put it up on facebook and it generated so many comments, including a proposal for a music video!

So Vrinda and myself got talking about Daler Mehndi, the deteriorating music industry, and how nowadays most lyricists just reshuffle the words, add in some new music and give you the latest "hit". So we decided to write a song to see if we could achieve the same level of industry professionalism. Of course, for quality purposes and your entertainment's sake, we made sure that we stayed true to the "true" spirit of Bollywood. The song consists of a modern day Juliet cavorting around a garden (or public place of her choice), trying to woo a reluctant Romeo. She makes use of various literary and song devices such as "heavily Indian-accented" rap, "sexually suggestive" metaphors and certain onomatopoeic words to portray her anguish. Okay so that was a load of rubbish. We figured that if we just threw together a bunch of overused and cliched Bollywood lyrics, we would hit upon the perfect song. So line after line was regurgitated, and we now present to you - Daler ka Jalwa!

Daler Ka Jalwa (to be sung to the tune of either Vande Mataram or any Daler Mehndi song)
Aja soniye, nach baliye
Mera ghaghra, chan chan
Husn ka jalwa, mal mal
Pyaar ke maare
Hai hai, dil dil
Pyar ke bhooke, humse aake mil mil
Ab chodo bhi, ishq ho gaya

(to be rapped in an indian accent)Baby you're so hot, sexy and cool. i want to touch you, make me your fool

(to be sung in a totally insane manner, with wild hand gestures and curious facial expressions)CHIKA BIKA RIKA X5

Anchal ke sahare, jeevan beet gaya
Dil dhadak raha hai
Sansein machal rahi hai
Zulf bikhrey hain, pyaar ka nasha chadh gaya hai
Yaadon me khoi khoi
Chupke chupke se

(to be rapped in an indian accent)Will you be my lover, i'll take you for chai with my mother

(you know what to do here! Add some variations like hip thrusting.)
CHIKA BIKA RIKA X5

Ek ladki chui mui
Khidki sey jhaankti
Teri nigaahen, meri adaein
Chhuye mere dil, Mil gayi manzil
Dil naache chham chham
Badan milaein hum tum

(to be rapped in an indian accent)Will you be my partner, o partner, my heart is racing, so take me to the daacter, o daacter

(Daler never tires and neither should you. Keep those hips going!)
CHIKA BIKA RIKA X5

Twitter Coffee

Meet my new writing buddy - Tweetoccino.

I noticed these new Twitter-ish tumblers in Coffee Bean today while buying lunch. Although there's no actual sign of a real Twitter/Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf collaboration here as there were no logos, promotional materials, campaigns etc, the unmistakeable image of the twitterbird was definitely there.

Twitter Coffee or not, this baby is cutting down my usage of all those take away cups from Coffee Bean & Starbucks.

Flower power! Yay!

Back from Bali!

I'm back from Bali! I think I'll be doing some Bali related writing for a while to get a feel of travel writing. I think travel writing is a useful skill, plus it gives you an excuse to move your butt more often. =)

So as a little present from Bali, I have the following:

He was adorable.

Bali

I leave for Bali tomorrow!

Some "unorthodox" things in my suitcase:

1. Angel wings - for the Halloween party we are going to.

2. A black Adidas backpack - I'm going trekking (whaaa?? K? You? Nature? Since when??). I have not carried a backpack since 10th grade. Adidas has overthrown Kate Spade in this round, and I feel stupid. Might as well make me wear dorky glasses, braid my hair and put me in lace up canvas shoes!

3. Mosquito Repellent - I know this is a norm for most people, but I usually tend to visit places with civilization. I'm not a nature girl as much...

4. Flashlight - Did I mention I'm going trekking on Mt. Batur at 3 fucking am? That's about the time I go to bed on Saturday night!

I am totally looking forward to this. Yay Bali!

The Peppered Inventor

We had to write a story about an inventor today! The opening line "He tried to make himself invisible" and the word "Unpepperator" were mandatory elements of the story. Mine was a little Roald Dahl-ish, but I'm still proud of it nonetheless!

(I wrote this in 15 minutes)

He tried to make himself invisible by inventing the invisimator. Before the device was even fully operational, he had blown half his life's savings on a patent for it. This was going to be his moment before the world.

He imagined all sorts of scenarios in his head while he worked. The invention would sell remarkably well, making him the country's richest man, the King would hear of his genius and would want to honor him of course. He would call him to a podium in front of thousands and drape a rich purple cloth, embrace him and tell him how wonderful he was.

As the King would be about to bestow the highest honor upon him, his wife who had left him because she did not share his belief in invisibility, would come running and beg for his forgiveness. He would turn his head away and scorn her.

He chuckled with delight at his childish reverie.

Two days later, the invisimator was ready. He set up a tent with some free food for his neighbors in his back garden, ready to rumble for a demonstration. Driven more by curiosity rather than admiration, they trickled in.

WHIZZ! PHISTLE! BANG! The invisimator made a series of noises. Shaped like a giant metallic squid with a body of a discarded dentist's chair, it was a fearful sight.

In a puff of smoke, he disappeared, but not completely. Just his head was gone. Everybody panicked.

"Hey! His head! It's gone!"

"Oh god, he's been beheaded!"

"No, I'm still here, " a dismembered voice shouted from the invisimator.

A brave little boy picked up the pepper shaker and emptied it over his head. It stuck to it and took its shape, giving him a rather fearsome look.

"AAAAAA! IT BURNS!"

"At least we can see you completely" someone snorted. They began throwing little pebbles at him and booing him. Soon they got tired and left. He tried to rinse off the pepper but somehow the chemicals from the invisimator had reacted with the pepper and was officially now a pepper-head.

"I need to invent an 'Unpepperator'," he sighed miserably to himself.

Haiku

I experimented with a Haiku at today's Saturday Morning Writers' for the second time in my life. In 10 minutes we had to come up with a Haiku of our choice. Essentially, free-writing Haiku, if you could call it that!

This is my finished product:

Hand on her heart now

She cries to herself slowly

It's for the better.

Broken dreams surround

Her love is for sale tonight

Child of cruel fate

It's no big mystery, the Haiku is about a sex worker. I had a really difficult time writing, especially since Haikus follow such a tight structure. Practice makes perfect I suppose!

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

This is what I am about to start reading. I've heard good things.

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

Cupcake Frenzy

I have been wanting to make the perfect cupcake for a really long time. I always imagined delivering the perfect moist cupcakes with a delicious swirly creamy sugary icing topped with sprinkles.

I was at Jones the Grocer with my Book Club last night, where we discussed Jeffery Sachs' Common Wealth with great zest. It was interesting that most of our discussion circulated around sustainable development. Talking about sustainable development, be sure to check out this movie called 'The Age of Stupid'. It is an amazing depiction of what we are doing to the world, but how this is truly reversible!

Becoming relevant once again, I sank my teeth into the most sinful delight called a cupcake at Jones. But I realized that if Jones had stripped off all the cool decorative icing and the fancy green marshmallow on top, I probably would have just chewed on the almond nougat instead. (Which by the way, is AWESOME. Buy it fresh and eat it on the way home.)

It's all that sexy decoration which makes people do a beeline for those cupcakes. So my assignment for the weekend is to make the best cupcake topping I can...delicious, creamy, and swirly.

Before I sign off, happy cupcaking!

Maybe I'm being too ambitious, but I came across a site where this woman MADE this flower icing! Wouldn't hurt to try!!

Chocolate Cupcakes with Butter Cream!

Multicolored icing on the cupcake! Yummm...this would probably might be the easiest to make.

I would like this very much

Please buy me this beautiful box set of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Sometimes just being shameless pays off.

Give me. Please. I will feed you lovely French food if you buy it for me. I promise.


Also, while you are at it, maybe you could get me the dark blue Furla bag that just hit the stores. If I find an image I'll put it up.

Happy shopping!

My New Office

I'm working hard, very hard.

P.S. Check out the brand new Kate Spade bag in the corner! It's a beauty!

Superhero Modesty!

I was waiting for the bus the other day when I saw that the Clear Channel panels containing the new Tiger Beer ad had clearly been defaced (can you spot the signs of modesty?)

I laughed so much that I took the wrong bus!

Persecution of Single Women

They should start issuing arrest warrants for being single now, especially since public heckling of the single woman has become an acceptable process. Miss Manners deemed it inappropriate to poke fun at overweight people, the mentally challenged, physically handicapped, and even smokers so everybody decided to give it a go at single women. We are, after all, easy targets - alone, susceptible to depression with the tendency to lead slightly "unorthodox" lifestyles. Who could blame us? Unburdened by the pressure of screaming children, mounting bills, irresponsible spouses and the regrettable series of "what ifs", as a bulls-eye we are rather appealing.

Burned at the stake for being single, I try to explain to friends and family alike that this is not a "lifestyle choice". "Darling, this is so unhealthy and unnecessary. Please fall in love, or let us find you somebody to spend the rest of your life with," my mother laments at the breakfast table every morning while twisting her wedding ring. My parents have been in union for twenty and six years, my mother agreeing to marry my father at the age of twenty-one.

According to them, I am reaching my expiry date. Emile Durkheim in his famous book, Social Construction of Reality, mentioned how basic reciprocal roles become habitualized and institutionalized over the period of time, which he aptly termed "social constructionism". I suppose this -ism might be able to explain how and how couples tend to view the single individual. With coupling up, a certain sense of conformity, stability and certainty settles in, and the "single" is perceived as the polar opposite, or the mysterious "other".

This leads me to the inexcusable assumption that the single woman is easily promiscuous and lacks the appropriate morals to maintain a steady relationship. A "How are you?" to an old friend who was recently engaged to be married warranted a "How is the dating going, wink wink. Tell me your sexy stories." This left me not only offended, but slightly shaken. I live by the adage, 'A person is only exceeded by their reputation', and this was definitely not good news. I informed her that my attendance at her wedding would be tentative.

More on the alleged sexed up behavior of single women, according to another source is if I were to ever to star in any movie, it would be titled, "Ketki's Sex and the City". Even better, now I feel like a real movie celebrity who is getting to star in her very own pornographic blockbuster. "Hitting Adult Film Stores near you!"

I truly am astonished with the general assumption of the single woman's promiscuity. Perhaps popular media such as Sex and the City has been a major contributing factor towards creating these negative preconceived notions, but are people seriously too daft to distinguish between television and reality? Perhaps couples in bubble-wrap might be interested to know that there are a few of us have a slightly more traditional outlook, where we equate sex with intimacy, consider self-respect a part of our lifestyle, and lead seemingly ordinary lives with regular jobs, ordinary friends and healthy hobbies. Not every woman can be the man Samantha Jones is.

If life truly were like a Sex and the City episode for the single woman, I probably would be clad in Blahnik all day, get to date ridiculously rich financiers, live in a chic Park Avenue apartment and never worry about downing high calorie martinis. And chances are, just as I am now, still be searching for my happy ending.

Artists, Violence, Inspiration

At Saturday Morning Writers, we do various writing exercises with fun prompts, and this was a particularly challenging one. The result was tremendous! Everyone had some pretty bizarre ideas!

Prompt: A frustrated artist temporarily inspired after committing an act of violence.

The sun was rising just above the horizon and Miguel's mind was numb from his wife's screaming. He stared straight ahead into the mirror in his large windowless studio and admired the horse-hair toupee now stuck on to his formerly balding scalp by the local barber.

"Oye Senor! It will make you handsome again, no?" the barber had grinned toothlessly as he adjusted the lopsided catastrophe.

Miguel had walked back to his studio proudly, while failing to notice the horrified looks of the townsfolk. His wife dropped the dinner plates when she laid her eyes on him. What ensued after were four hours of white noise. She was a loud woman and could be heard all the way down the street.

"Eh! What is wrong with you? You think you are young again? You old stupid fool! You look mad, you think the girls will look at you? You think you think people will buy your paintings with this dead animal on your head?" She would not stop.

Miguel, devastated by her torment, quietly retreated into their bedroom. She followed him inside, screaming some more. Then she became violent. Pillows and blankets flew in his direction. "Stupido! I hate it! I don't want to look at you!"

Miguel began his nightly routine in the bathroom and tried to block out her high pitched shrieking. Just as he was finishing up, he accidentally dropped his shaving kit and cut his finger on the razor blade. Would he? No but he could not. Yes he would. That was the only way. After all these years, he would show her who was really boss.

He picked up the razors and crept to her bedside. She had fallen asleep and was now snoring peacefully. He almost regretted his decision. Miguel could make out the shape of her neck with the clear moonlight streaming in through the window.

Slish, slish, two quick gashes and a choking sound from her. That was it. He was free.

The adrenaline rushed through his body and reminded him of the time his father had swung him up and down over andover again. It had made him so giddy with happiness and fear. It felt just like that.

He was filled with renewed energy. He looked at the blood gushing out like a rapid stream from her neck, and then at his blood-soaked hands. Miguel sped to his studio in a frenzy and began to paint with his bare hands.

"This is my winner," he was laughing. "I will be rich!"

Stand By Me - Playing for Change

This is a beautiful coordinated effort of sound engineering by Playing for Change. It is apt especially today, on September 11, that we fight to eradicate terrorism, hatred, violence and try to embrace tolerance, human rights and love for each other.... This song is a symbol of how people all over the world can come together to create a beautiful project with success!

Munkey Bizness

Our very messy office before we moved to our new place!

Posing!
Peekaboo!

My office of 5 months! I should put up some photos of my new one.

I'm Scared

I wrote my first poem in a few years. I have focused so much on prose that I totally forgot what it was like to write a poem! Analysis is after the poem.

I'M SCARED

I am scared of you,
when you tell me in that tone of voice.
Because when I offer
You always take more than I can give.

I am scared of what you think,
so I close my eyes and subsitute
My fear for witty repartee
You will flinch, but you will never know.

I am scared of being with you,
because I always know that you will leave me without a promise or goodbye.
Except when your breaths are short
In your time of need.

I am scared of leaving you,
but I know your heart has migrated
To greener freer pastures.
I hope you will continue to remember.

I am scared of seclusion,
with only my memories left as my companions.
And the inevitable thought of tomorrow.

The poem is about the writer's fear/nervousness/commitment issue etc of meeting the right person and not being able to live up to his standards and he is afraid that he'll never love her enough so she allows him to take her for granted.

The first verse is basically about meeting a guy she likes, and she gives him more than he deserves regardless of how their relationship is. The second verse is about how nervous she always is around him, and she's not sure of herself so she substitutes her nervousness with "witty repartee". Also, the line "My fear for witty repartee" is in the same line instead of separating "my fear" and "for witty repartee" because she is actually afraid to express herself, but she does it in a bizarre split personality way to cover up.

The third verse is about her actually being with him because she knows that this boy is toxic and will eventually treat her in a negative manner "without a promise or goodbye". "Breaths are short, in your time of need" has a sexual connotation to it. Death was not intended. The fourth verse is about her knowing that even though she has to do the right thing by leaving because it's not really going anywhere, she is still scared to move on completely.

Finally the last paragraph shows that, she's done it, she's broken off, and all she has is her memories. I am rather uncomfortable with the last paragraph because I feel it is disconnected from the rest of the poem. It's my first poem in a few years, and I'm very...rusty.

Obnoxious Writing

Arthur Kade - the most obnoxious man in the world!

twitter.com/arthurkadeinc

Doodle!

My iPhone doodles! Application is called DoodleBuddy! Happy Doodling, fellow doodlers!

This is currently my wallpaper.

This personifies me. xx the flower!

This is my Picasso piece!

Poetry and Fashion

I always thought poetry was a little bit like fashion. Both need inspiration, creativity, a keen sense of observation, and an appreciation for beauty.
Enjoy.


Alexander McQueen

Vionnet

Group Writing

I did not go to the previous writers meeting, but we do have a really interesting group writing assignment due this Saturday, which I am super excited about. If you belong to a group of writers (5-7 people), you can try this.

Assign each person another persona. So if you are Jack in reality, you have to be another member of your group - female preferably. This doubles the level of difficulty.

Create a basic scenario during which something monumental happens. For example, everyone is in a yoga class and on that particular day, there is a substitute teacher. Nobody really likes the substitute and everyone is bickering about her and in general. Suddenly the power goes off for an hour, and conversations continue in the dark.

When the lights come back on, there is a dead body on the floor. (One person has to agree to be the dead guy).

Each person has to write their own version of the story start to finish with relation to the alleged murder.

This is a fun assignment and the potential results can be hilarious!

Good luck if you try it!

How to Write a Letter of Recommendation

How to write a letter of recommendation! Courtesy of the people at Emails from Crazy People

To whomever it may concern (since I have no idea),

I would like to personally recommend Virginia A. for what ever it is that she requires a recommendation for. I have known VA professionally for a long time, almost 10 months. In that time her ability to almost do her job correctly has never ceased to amaze me. It takes quite a special person to answer phones and correctly forward callers to the correct employee. Some might say “That’s easy, anyone could do that.” But as her 15 year old replacement has proven, only someone with VA’s special set of skills could make it look difficult.

During her employment VA continually pushed the envelope of what it was possible to wear to work and not get fired. Often showing enough cleavage to make even the most satisfied infant salivate, VA and the girls showed what it truly means to give it all you’ve got, or show it at least. You might be fooled into thinking that this was grossly inappropriate and not even “What Not to Wear” could save her, but let me be the first to say that her personal contribution to morale and lack of concentration to the office was unsurpassable.

VA’s commitment to the job meant that she couldn’t just leave it at 8 hours and call it a day (unless she found someone else to give her a ride home to her apartment less than half a mile away. Walking is such hard work.) No sir, when there was a happy hour at another office, VA was the first to ask you to come (and for a ride.) When there was no drama in the office, VA would take it upon herself to sleep with one of your coworkers and tell you all about his ED just in case you thought maybe you didn’t know him well enough after all.

And so it is without hesitation that I recommend VA for whatever it is that she is applying for because that might mean I’ll have to hear form her less. Please accept/hire her.

Yours truly

XXXXX

F*** My Life

The following confessions are from a website called F*** My Life. It is a hilarious website full of writers who know how to appreciate irony. Some winners are:


Today, I got my first kiss. I'm 56. FML

Today I was at the lake watching a romantic sunset with my boyfriend. He tenderly started touching my thigh, then shaking my leg to the rhythm, while shaking my leg to the J-E-L-L-O theme song. FML

Today I snuck into my boyfriend's house because I have an extra key. I snuck into his bed to sleep with him and noticed how soft his skin was. Turns out, I had been feeling up the girl he had been sleeping with and he was in the bathroom. FML

Today, I received my passport in the mail. They got my birthdate wrong. Then I picked up my birth certificate that I had sent in with the application. Turns out my parents have been celebrating my birthday on the wrong day for 16 years. FML

Today, I had drunk sex with a girl that I barely know. I didn't have a condom and was nervous about getting her pregnant, but she assured me that I could pull out. Right when I was about to pull out, she wrapped her legs around me and yelled : "BE MY BABY'S DADDY!" I couldn't get out in time. FML

Today, my teenage stepdaughters, as a punishment for refusing to buy them iphones, told my wife they saw me in town kissing an attractive blonde and grabbing her ass (all invented). She believed it and i'm single. I've been faithful and feeding the whole family for 10 years. FML

Capitalism - A Love Story

Psyched for this new Michael Moore movie.

Arranged!

This is a bit of creative nonfiction I just finished. It needs a GOOD sense of humor to be read! The piece is considerably exaggerated and cannot be taken too seriously. =)

Relationships never came easily to me. For most of my teenage and adult life, I have been plagued with the unenviable gift of picking out the worst possible men to ever walk the earth. If Carrie had her share of Mr. Big, then multiply her grief by at least a hundred. That would be my story on NBC. My grand dreams of a great love, followed by a wedding on the beach with seven hundred guests and complete with a tacky ice sculpture, and an even grander honeymoon in Monaco. But this stuff is meant for television princesses clad in Chanel and Blahnik, not charity queens.

My parents, unable to tolerate the drama that kept unfolding in front of their eyes, decided that it was time for some old fashioned intervention. Now their idea of “intervention” translates into “arranged marriage”. When I discovered that my initial tight-lipped approach failed to work, I took to ignoring them. When they persisted despite the cold shoulder, I shed crocodile tears consciously dabbing the corners of my eyes. My play of emotions failed to soften their hearts, and I finally took to my bed weeping and wailing. A towel was unceremoniously tossed in my direction and I was told that it was unladylike behavior for a young woman who was about to get married. The choice was ultimately mine – get hitched or stay single forever.

So as I began my search for graduate school courses in international law, my mother scouted matchmaking agencies for suitable boys. Within a week, the matchmaking bureau in proof of their efficiency and high success rate, faxed over a list of potential husbands for my mother's perusal. Mind you, I was not at all involved in this process, and my required input was minimal. Furthermore, the agency recommended that my parents initiate any contact, which meant that they would screen the candidate by speaking to his parents. I scoffed inwardly. That would not guarantee my future security. For all I knew, parents covered for their children all the time, the guy could turn out to be a total psycho and I would only find out after the wedding.

Round One:
The candidate looked good on paper. With a stable job in one of the top investment banks around the world, a senior level posting in Bombay, and "money in the bank for the two of us", he was a dream candidate. Although his photographs seemed to bring up the four cheese pasta I had earlier in the day, I agreed to begin preliminary discussions. He wrote polite and practical emails to me, with no pretentious undertones. One Saturday night, no plans in hand, I found my instant messenger blinking with a message from him. It was Mr. Moneybags. He seemed just like his emails, socially awkward, straightforward, and unemotional. He monopolized the conversation, by asking pointed questions.

"Will you consider moving back to India?" he asked.

"No." I replied. Career and further education were my priorities.

"How important is marriage to you?" he continued.

I gaped. "Is that a trick question?" A question with a question.

"No." He was not amused. Needless to say, neither one of us were keen to continue the correspondence. I felt strange, it was as though I just had had a cyberchat one night stand without even meeting my partner.

Round Two:
One day the telephone rang, while I sat chewing on my hair absent-mindedly at the breakfast table. After a night of hard partying with my girlfriends, picking up the long distance call was probably one of the lesser sensible decisions I have made.

"HALLO!" boomed a man's voice at the other end." I jumped two feet in the air.

"HALL-LO?" I sputtered, albeit equally loudly. The average Indian is affected with the long-distance loud-voice syndrome. Most common symptom is the loss of decible control.

"I am Mr. J calling from India. I saw your daughter's profile in the magazine and I like it very much. I would like for our children to meet. Are you willing?" Still loudly.

"You are speaking to the daughter," wryly. My voice had resumed normalcy.

"Oh. Oh." He was not expecting me to pick up the phone.

"Okay, let me tell you about my son. He has a bachelor degree in engineering from XXX university, and he has done his MTech from YYY university. He is now working as the Assistant Vice President at ZZZ Bank, which is one of the top banks in the world..." his voice trailed off.

Both of us were equally stunned. I finally broke the awkward silence. "Why don't I get my mother to call you?"

"Okay."

"Bye."

Needless to say, Mr. AVP at Bank ZZZ did not make the shortlist. Despite being blessed with allegedly decent brains, he seemed to exhibit typical stereotypes associated with the average male Indian export - inability to hold a conversation, pencil-thin moustache, a paunch from drinking too much, and stalker potential from the number of calls he made to us after 10pm.

Round 3:
The third one left a confirmation that all the good ones were taken and the leftovers were either completely gay or borderline cases. I was forced to meet with a potential's nucleus family at an uncomfortable dinner during my visit to India. I faced the party with an air of resentment, naturally, as the playing field was unfair. They had the pleasure of scrutinizing my every move, while I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. I was attacked with ferocity and jest. "Do you talk a lot? X likes girls who talk. What do you do? How much money do you make? Do you enjoy cooking?" It was horrific.

On a slightly eerie note, the family seemed to exhibit seemingly bizarre characteristics. They had cutesy pet names for everyone, praised one other to the skies, and stories of the potential's mischief, which everyone seemed to find adorable yet only I seemed to find childish and irritating, were narrated to me with dramatic purpose. How X teased his mother by cooking meat in the house when she observed religious fast, or how he tortured his poor grandmother by pulling apart her up-do, or how he constantly contradicted his brother's statements - made him sound more as an abusive psychotic and less as an endearing tease. I held myself tightly and submitted to the torture until the end of the evening.

Much eye-rolling and back talk followed after every meeting. My parents, upset that I had curled up like an earthworm, were convinced that nobody would ever want to marry their daughter. My mother was devastated at my string of rejected suitors and wrung her hands at the ceiling (at some spiritual entity I assume), and prayed that word of my fuss should not get out, or the line of men waiting for my hand in marriage would disappear.

I did a quick overhaul of the situation. The whole experience feels as if I am starring on a Mad TV spoof of The Bachelorette. As my hopes head toward a steady decline, it would not hurt to have a few non-moron options. My parents have set out to integrate me respectably into Indian society - by singling out single boys to relieve me of my singleness. In the past, being single had its disadvantages, but the raw clarity of the circumstance cuts through me like poison racing through my bloodstream. I want to be anywhere but here.

Arranged Marriage

So I've been doing some writing recently because I have been...emotionally charged! Yes yes yes! You read right!

I am working on an untitled piece about arranged marriages, which is an ordeal I am going through right now. I'm not quite finished with it, and this is the introduction to the first draft. I have changed and exaggerated certain incidents to inject humor.

Hope you like it.

DRAFT ONE

Relationships never came easily to me. For most of my teenage and adult life, I have been plagued with the unenviable gift of picking out the worst possible men to ever walk the earth. If Carrie had her share of Mr. Big, then multiply her grief by at least a hundred. That would be how much I have gone through in all my relationships.

My parents, unable to tolerate the drama that kept unfolding in front of their eyes, decided that it was time for some old fashioned intervention. Now their idea of “intervention” translates into “arranged marriage”. When I discovered that my initial tight-lipped approach failed to work, I took to ignoring them. When they persisted despite the cold shoulder, I shed crocodile tears consciously dabbing the corners of my eyes. My play of emotions failed to soften their hearts, and I finally took to my bed weeping and wailing. A towel was unceremoniously tossed in my direction and I was told that it was unladylike behavior for a young woman who was about to get married. The choice was ultimately mine – get hitched or stay single forever.

So while at the age of twenty and four, I was running my own department and fiercely focused on career, my mother scouted matchmaking agencies for suitable boys. Within a week, the matchmaking bureau in proof of their efficiency and high success rate, faxed over a list of potential husbands for my mother's perusal. Mind you, I was not at all involved in this process, and my required input was minimal. Furthermore, the agency recommended that my parents initiate any contact, which meant that they would screen the candidate by speaking to his parents. I scoffed inwardly. That would not guarantee my future security. For all I knew, parents covered for their children all the time, the guy could turn out to be a total psycho and I would only find out after the wedding.

My parents set out to integrate me respectably into Indian society - by singling out single boys to relieve me of my singleness. In the past, being single had its disadvantages, but the raw clarity of the circumstance cut through me like poison racing through my bloodstream. Suddenly, I wanted to be anywhere but here.

I am looking for...

This is undoubtedly the best writing the writers on Sex and the City have come up with.

Art

I am finally glad to almost get over with this stressful and hectic week at work. This morning was our School of Art, Design and Media's Convocation ceremony. The Class of 2009 finally got kicked out after 4 years of bumming around campus. =)

We featured some beautiful Final Year Projects at the ceremony. I was duly impressed. Photos added.

(I tried to get a s close as possible but these were the best results I could get from an iPhone camera)

Websites for Writer Meet Ups

Another friend from Saturday Morning Writers sent some fantastic links for aspiring/established writers looking to meet with other like-minded individuals.

If you reside in Sunny Singapore, look out for the local writers meetup group HERE.

If you would like to submit work for publication, Singapore has a Quarterly Literature Review. You can check it out HERE.

There's also the previously published Caferati.

Good luck!

The Many Faces of ....Madness =D

Here I am sitting with my pink lappy like a good girl about to research my article when my iPhone and potential mischief beckons. Let the camwhoring begin!

Oh! What is this? Oh my my my! What have you done now Miss O Hara?

I imagine this is my best Calpurnia expression. (To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee) Else, I don't know what name to give it.

I'm going more for an Angelina Jolie-esque look here, but failing miserably. She's too sexy for her hat, or her shirt, or even UNICEF these days. Oh well. Back to work!

Caferati

A friend of mine from Saturday Morning Writers hooked me up with a very interesting writers group called Caferati.

I received the following email from their President, Ashish Kumar:

Hi Ketki

Thanks for your interest. Is it OK by you if I make you a member of the Caferati mail group? You'll start getting our mails then. We mostly use the group to schedule our Read Meets, unfortunately, but you're welcome to use it to share your writing, or information on writing related events.

Do confirm so that I can "do the needful" as we Desis say.

Best
Ashish

Basically, Caferati works on a peer review system for writers, giving feedback to help writers improve their technique. The organization started on the online social networking site Ryze (India) and expanded rapidly into other cities around the world. Members meet once a month for read-meets.


It is definitely an exciting prospect and a must try for any one looking to improve their writing. For more information on Caferati and finding a chapter in your country, go to http://www.caferati.com/

I Work Too Hard

In my defence, it was a busy Monday! (You can see my colleague's head peeking out a bit from the other side!)

Lady of Leisure

I spent my weekend at the town club with my dad. He huffed and puffed away at his Latino Jam class (I have a video which I have been banned from circulating!) while I lazed by the poolside, watched part of Beverly Hills Chihuahua (do NOT watch that terrible movie), and ate ate ate.

The pool! Luckily there were no Speedo-clad men.

Main Lobby side entrance. It's a pity I couldn't get the whole thing, I always feel like a princess coming down the big stairs at the side. My photography is terrible. It really is.

The Pool...again!

The lobby outside the gym. I wish I had taken more photos of the jazz bar and the Cellar&Humidor. They were so pretty!

Funniest Horny/Desperate/Wannabe Messages I Have Received

So every girl has her share of weird messages she gets on Facebook, Myspace, or whichever social networking site she uses. I have collected the true winners of my inbox for your reading pleasure. Hope you chuckle as much as I did when I first read them!

In reply to me asking him whether we had met before as I was unable to recall. He had requested me as a friend on Facebook:

Dear Ketki,
Thanks for your reply. Yes, we do not know each others but just
willing to have friendship with you. By profession, I am chemical engineer. Please mail me on xxxxxxxxx@yahoo.co.uk.
Do reply please.
Pxxxx Mxxxxx

___

From a very strange guy who does not know how to spell "gorgeous" or "peace". I checked out his profile and all he loves is weed. Apparently that's also all he smokes.

Just wana say u look goergeus in ur Photo's.. Take care
PE@C=

Nxxxx Lxx Nxxx

___

This next one is clearly the winner I think (If you can make any sense out of it):

first n foremost i had to say this... u look so so so so astonishingly beautiful.... absolutely gorgeous....
n i really re:ally would like to know somethin here...

r u local... u dont look like one... no way ok...
n is that ur natural hair.... im so crazely in lov with them sweetie...
pls do reply my dear..... thanks... in advance that is... for the reply.... that u gonna send me... i assume.... lol... tc.

from Rxx Hunk

___

The next I picked is a bizarre correspondence between myself and a Facebook Romeo:

In response to a friend request I pinged him the usual message:

Me: Hey, really sorry to ask this, but do I know you? I sometimes tend to forget names and faces of people I've met briefly.

Him: hehe...hey not e problem cuz i m e new face for u ...we haven yet met...so howz ur holidays goin on ?????????

Me: New face for me? I guess the future looks pretty bleak for me then, eh? =)

Him: do i look so very ugly??????

Needless to say, I did not reply after that.

___

I think this one really has stalker potential:

have seen ur profile u r soo nice and cte i want to be ur friend.. will u be my good frined... where ru living,,,,, nice looking ,, soo cuteekeep in tuch bybye
thx...well i wanna say something about ur beauti and ur sweetness please accept this small words from my pure hearts, ur pics are really sooooooooooo amazing.


dear, Now really i miss u so much,u know, coz ur pic made me mad, its really awesome, and u r looking sooooooooooooooooooo beautiful as Miss Singapore, cute as Singapore Princess , sweet as honey, nice as pretty angel. u look like the princess of butterfly, the queen of Jasmine flower. actually the words of dictionary cant explain ur beauti, i am jus speakless, if i write whole of life narrating ur beauti, i will die but ur sweetness wont be end, ur eyes are jus like diomand pearls, the sky is feeling jealoous beause its two beautiful star u take as it becomes ur eyes, i wish and i dream that i can see this Masterpiece of the GOd, beauti of universe live with my naked eyes.

with best and sweet regards
Rxxxx

___

This next one was just plain weird. I still don't get what he means by me having a "student" look?:

Hey, how's it going. Hope you're enjoying yourself here. Let's go deeper and talk like normal people =)

All I know abt you now is that you have a student look and can be a little naughty at times. I'd like to know more.

So what's your story?

___

Saturday Morning Writers

This is Miranda doing her reading during today's Saturday Morning Writers' session. The exercise was basically each of us having to come up with a strange character we each knew or had seen, and outline what was going on in their mind. The catch was that we could not write about our own character. Miranda is voicing the inner ramblings of the cleaning lady from my office who is really tough on me. Hope you like it as much as I do!

Dan doing his reading on defining an accent and searching for an identity? Nevertheless, it was great! He was too shy to be videotaped

(If you are interested in becoming a Saturday Morning Writer, drop me an email at abrupt.ending@gmail.com. We meet every Saturday morning - doh! - drink great coffee, have plenty of fun and let our imaginations run wild. We also strive to achieve our best when it comes to writing and are currently aiming to get published as much as possible without compromising the quality and integrity of our work.)