No logical reason

...to explain why I am so unbearably drawn to this man. I'm OK with it though - after all it results in disgustingly sappy joy :)

Story of my life...

Check, check and check.

Transferring Armin's ASOT episode from last night onto my iPod as I type. Last thing on the (very long) check list.

Packed. Sleepy. Pensive. Excited.

Gentlemen, start your engines...American Holiday begins in seven hours :D

xoxo,

S

I'd rather not speak. It would ruin the moment...

I *heart* TV

A lot.

So, in honour of my couch-potatoness, I've decided to compile a list of my top 5 TV theme tunes. There are fewer things in this world that excite me more than the sweet chimes of a great theme song announcing the imminent start of Idiot Box Goodness. I must emphasise that this list is not exhaustive and does not suggest that these are my favourite TV shows (the absence of "Family Guy" & "The Office" should've given the latter point away) - just my 5 favourite kickass theme songs.

5. The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency : A beautiful composition (unfortunately I don't think this short clip does the entire theme justice) which captures the mystique, strength and melancholy of the great nation of Botswana. I first watched an episode of this brilliant HBO show while I was in the States (and, incidentally, reading the first novel in this warm and utterly fantastic series by Alexander McCall Smith for a class) and I remember bawling my eyes out for atleast 5 minutes into the episode. Really makes you miss Mama Africa, this one does.

4. 30 Rock : Composed by Tina Fey's amazing husband, Jeff Richmond, this theme tune is such a perfect fit for the funniest TV show on earth, it answers any questions one would have as to why the two got married. I love the cheesy a cappella, farty trumpets, the jazzy drum beat, the rockin-rollin nature of the bars cascading on top of each other (like a lot of the hi-larious dialogue of the show actually) - it captures the very essence of the riot that is 30 Rock.

3. The Big Bang Theory : The Barenaked Ladies wrote this song specially for the TV show and boy did they do a good job! Basically they try and cram in the entire history of our universe in a short-but-sweet little tune. Part of the fun of this song comes in the form of lyric-fishing - i.e. trying to figure out what the HECK the fellows are saying...and once you do figure it out (which for me, by the way, was one of my proudest moments), you're amazed by exactly how brilliant the words are! Just like the endearing nerd-tagonists of the show (easily one of the best sitcoms in recent memory, along with "How I Met Your Mother"), this song is smart and super fun. Sing it with me..."It all started with the big bang...BANG!"

2. Dr. Who : Yeah, this one's predictable - I know. But GOD it's just SO good! There will never be a more iconic theme tune than this one. Social suicide - I love Dr. Who, always have. And whenever I would hear this tune emanate from our TV's speakers, my heart would leap. I'm not one of those die-hard Dr. Who fans who can hear a mere five seconds of the opening clip and pronounce from which era of the show it's pulled from, but even I know the masterful "ooooooooweeeeooooo" that makes this theme song the perfect embodiment of the mysterious adventure of the show.

And the No. 1 theme tune is.... *drum roll*

1. BIG BROTHER UK : OK OK, before all you snooty TV connoisseurs go all connoisseur-y on me, lemme just say that Big Brother is not one of my favourite TV shows of all time (although, it must be said, BB UK season 5 was AWE-some!), but this theme tune is EASILY the best in the history of TV. In my humble opinion, of course :P Makes you wonder why more EDM (for novices who still don't know -- EDM = Electronic Dance Music) DJ's aren't roped in to create theme tunes for TV shows. Paul Oakenfeld's remix is just killer (ahh yes the good old days when ole Oaky's stuff wasn't so wasn't shit/commercial) and still remains one of the most easily recognisable theme tunes out there. And no, I'm not biased/I didn't pick it just because it's EDM. It really is kickass. Really, really...

**Special mention: X-Files...good god, it's creep-tastic!**

So, which theme songs make your list?

*Grin*

So, I had butterscotch ice-cream for breakfast today [neat side story: the owners of this new I-Scream factory are close friends of my daddy so we get tons of scrumdiddlyupmtious tubs for free! ahh, the joys of being a guinea pig! my favourites thus far have been the unbelievably creamy vanilla and their tarty lemon-lime. also, Ice-Cream-Factory-Man's son is really hot. although, now that I mention it, I should probably stop gorging myself on fatty, creamy delights if I'm to have any chance with aforementioned hot son...] and while suffering from subsequent brain freeze, powered through a "How I Met Your Mother" marathon on my laptop for 2.5hrs while lying on my prickly, green lawn. All this awesomeness before 11AM!

As a result of the grand opening, the rest of my day was smashing! I actually obeyed my parents and sorted out all my US travel papers in the afternoon - which made me realise that I'm leaving in exactly 4 days! EEEK. Then during class, my friend told me a ton of entertaining stories about my drunken antics from Friday night (apparently I rapped an ENTIRE Young Jeezy verse in honour of Ghana's victory at the U-20 World Cup. Oh, how I wish I actually remembered such things!). I came home to newly-installed air conditioners and a new Mark Sherry Tech-Trance mix in my inbox. Mummy made my favourite dal for dinner. And I'm now going to go take a walk under a clear, starlit Zambian sky while listening to this song.

I have a feeling that I'm going to look like my bedtime teddy, Fooface, when I finally fall asleep tonight. Just sickeningly, nauseatingly happy.

Late night bed-raving (ahem, ignore the innuendo)

Sometimes, iTunes plots against sleep. For instance, by playing this beautiful song just as my eyelids were getting heavy.

(If patience is not your strongest character trait, vocals begin at 2:40 and are given a classic SvR re-working, which approaches perfection, at around the 4:50 mark)

As a consequence, my memory was jogged and I realised that I must download Sied van Riel's "Rielalistic" radio show from earlier tonight and will (probably need to) listen to at least half an hour of it before I'll be able to catch some snoozies. Which means, no chance of sleep before 3AM.

But yeah, I'm not really complaining...sleep is for the weak (or Hip-hop/Rock/Pop lovers :P)

Riel love,

S xxx

For The Love of Cinema

One of the most frustrating things about living in Zambia is not being able to watch all the ten billion amazing films that are being churned out by brilliant minds on a daily basis. Yes, we have a (terribly-stocked) Blockbusters...but, come on, my Saturday-night-in movie choices should not have to come down to "Saw III" or [insert gag-worthy sap-fest starring Hugh Grant and/or Sandra Bullock].

So instead of actually watching all the films that I want to - I find out as much about them as I possibly can. From magazines, blogs, (lucky) friends, online reviews, TV, youtube - I obsessively live vicariously through all the popcorn popping, soda slurping, back-row hogging movie-goers out there. So, from all my secondary-source research (which, I'd like to point out takes immense commitment/patience as internet in Zambia is, well, only a tad faster than dying-snail pace) I have compiled a list of movies that I am dying to watch and my reasons why (it being understood that I've vowed to watch them all by the end of the year). I know a lot of you have probably already seen many of these so I'd love to know your thoughts on them - so feel free to recommend and/or critique any of my choices.

1. The Time That Remains (Palestine/France), directed by Elia Suleiman

Elia Suleiman. Err, what else do you need to know?

2. Inglourious Basterds (USA), directed by Quentin Tarantino

It's Tarantino. And, even though Peter Bradshaw (a god who influences many of my filmic decisions) hated it, I will stand by my Quinty through the good, the bad and the ugly (Woody Allen fans, you know where I'm coming from right?).

3. Up (USA), directed by Pete Docter

See 1:21 - 1:32. Also, did you not just watch the Trailer??

4. The White Ribbon (Austria), directed by Michael Haneke



Haneke, Palme D'or and it took over 10 years to make. What's not to like?

5. Wake Up, Sid! (India), directed by Ayan Mukerji



Konkona Sen. A spirited Ranbir Kapoor. A young, Bengali director. SEL's soul-lifting music. A coming-of-age story set in Bombay (not Mumbai). Promises to be fabulous!

6. A Single Man (USA), directed by Tom Ford

No, I'm not one of those women who has fondly fantasised about Dreamy Mr. Darcy (although that might have something to do with the fact that I haven't actually seen the BBC's "Pride & Prejudice"), but I do like Colin Firth very much. And I leapt for joy when I found out that he had won the Coppa Volpi Best Actor Award at the Venice Film Festival for his role in this film. The story is fascinating and I can't help but think that it will be one of those films that leaves one paralysed as the credits roll.

7. Amreeka (Palestine/USA), directed by Cherien Dabis

:D. I watched an interview with Cherien on Al-Jazeera and was blown away by how down-to-earth, beautiful and utterly unassuming she is. Her honesty as an artist and human being shines through even in a 2min17sec trailer. I really cannot wait to watch this one.

8. An Education (UK), directed by Lone Scherfig

I have a feeling this is one of those films that knocks the wind right out of you in the theatre. And leaves you all the wiser for it.

9. Capitalism: A Love Story (USA), directed by Michael Moore



Because I LOVE Michael Moore and his gloriously obnoxious self. Everything about him makes me tingle with joy and I just can't get enough. No, but seriously - he's awesome :P Anyone who has the balls to try and make a citizen's arrest of top AIG officials and/or drive an armoured truck to recover government bail-out money cannot but be one of my favourite people. This should be a ride and a half.

10. Anything with Michael Cera in it. But especially, Paper Heart.

----

In Conclusion/EPIPHANY: White people make awesome movies!

N.B. - The layout of my blog cuts part of the youtube screen in half...you might want to watch the trailers in fullscreen mode/from the source website for full effect.

"The silver-forked sky lifts you up like a star"

Part I of the epic 3-movement "The Lightning Strike", this is "What If This Storm Ends". I have no words to describe it except these two - Truly Sublime...

"Painted in flames

All peeling thunder
Be the lightning in me

That strikes relentless"

Wow. Just, wow.

*Sigh*

...and we're OUT.

Yet another failure at yet another ICC event. It's beginning to sting...really, really badly. Not surprising. Honestly, as much as it pains me to say it, we didn't deserve to be in the Top 4. The team we're playing is an adhoc/raw one whose body language on the cricket pitch resembles that of a 2-hour old baby giraffe trying to stay upright long enough to allow its spindly legs to take their first step.

Yes, we were unlucky to lose 3 of our best players before the tournament, but at no point during our short stay in SA did we look like we were challenging our opponents in any way. OK, so we pushed a West Indies B-team to the brink today...but even in this match, when WI were at 85/5 we had way too many fielders on the edge of the circle, giving away easy singles to the 2 new batsmen at the crease. Our best bowlers seem to get an extra bounce in their stride, a few extra Kms on their deliveries and movement in the air only against the weakest sides in any tournie. Against the big guns, they ask for defensive field positions and their only goal during the matches seems to be not to muck up in an especially horrendous way (even that, evidently, they cannot pull off).

Mahi's luck has, officially, run out. His quirky field positions, constant bowler rotation, counter-intuitive batting line-ups just aren't doing the trick. Methinks it's time to return to fixing the basics - inspire your quickies to run in and hit the deck hard, push your medium pacers to bowl every delivery in the net at the stumps (reward the most consistent with sugar-free laddoos), lift the (currently abysmal) fielding standards (and adopt the drop-and-gimme-20 regiment every time someone effs up during fielding drills), and remind your batsmen that their job is to make runs at the crease and not lay eggs in the pavilion. Times are tough for Team India and everyone involved needs to put their hands up and accept responsibility for his/her/its role in this situation. From the players who have consistently (and with an annoying arrogance) messed things up; to the selectors for continuing to value the archaic notion of experience/seniority over talent/recent records; to the media who choose to focus on sensationalism and stupid soundbites instead of constructive advice that'll actually help the team; and of course We, The Fans.

As a manic "We, The Fans" member, I stand guilty as charged. We knew, even before a ball was bowled, that we're entering the tournament with a makeshift team with gaping holes in the top & middle order and a virtually toothless bowling attack. Why then did we go around expecting, nay, demanding to see our team in the finals? Why did we act as if the lack of communication between the players and erratic decision-making were symptoms of irresponsibility - why didn't we recognise them as symptoms of a team that has never played together in such high-pressure circumstances? It's our fault too, really. Our team is never able to just go out and "have a blast". They're always out there trying to prove naysayers wrong and/or trying to fulfill the fantasies of unrealistic optimists. The only person I know who has sprouted more white hairs than MSD since becoming a democratically-elected leader is Barack Obama. And both men, we know, are giving their all to make things work.

Having said that, we all recognise that times are tough for Team India. All we can do now is wait. Wait for the Midas touch to return to our beloved captain, wait for our injured and rehabilitating players to return with all their strength fully restored, and wait for our boys' wounds to heal and to see them burst onto the next cricket ground with the hunger for victory flashing in their eyes. We, The Fans, no matter what, will be behind the Men In Blue. Despite all our whining, cynicism and occasional bitterness, we live for Team India. No matter what, day or night, we'll be cheering on every elegant drive (Kartick pulled off a particularly beautiful one during today's game), every outswinger which catches the flashing edge of an opponent's bat and every breathtaking, airborne catch at Point. We will continue to paint our faces, fly the flags and bellow: COME ON INDIA!! Until the job is done :D

And, yes, pick for the tournament at this point is definitely Pakistan. Don't know if any of you managed to tune in to the Pakistan vs Australia match -- what a cracker!! Kudos to Pakistan for their ability to make Ricky "The World Hates You" Ponting gnaw on his stubby little Aussie fingers. As much as I dislike them (especially during Indo-Pak matches), one must admire Pakistan's ability to kick it up a notch during ICC events. Tremendous self-belief and zing in this 11. As we'd say in the EDM world - Pakistan FTW!! (Pakistan For The Win) (Well, either them or England. NZ and Australia can happily crawl back to the all-white, racist crapholes they call home.)

Highlight of the day:

MAHI'S FIRST ODI WICKET!

(duh)

...and how handsome he looked doing it too *sigh*

(Ajmal's beauty to Mitchell Johnson during the Pakistan vs Australia match was a close second, I must admit)

Happy Dussehra/Vijayadashami folks!!

And in keeping with the "epic battle" theme: looking forward to an exciting India vs Australia match today - it's time to slay some demons, baby!

COME ON INDIA!

Champions Trophy Game 1: Post-Mortem

I decided to wait a bit before I wrote this piece about yesterday’s match. I’m known to have emotional outbursts immediately following big events (esp. those of the sporting nature) and I just wanted to give myself a moment to breathe and allow the cricket analyst in me to have a chance to throw in atleast a few lines before the cricket lover/manic India fan went on some melodramatic rant.

So, I was trying my hardest to avoid the hype. It was the first match during which I wasn’t going to go all out and put on my Team India t-shirt, whip out my dad’s 30year old khadi Indian flag or have my Pakistani friends on speed dial to gloat whenever a crucial Paki batsmen fell or Raina lofted a ball over mid-off for a 6 (I some how had a premonition that he was going to put a few deliveries away). However, despite all my attempts, I found myself gobbling my lunch in a record 3minutes, yelling at everyone around me to stop talking so I could say a (4-minute long) prayer to the Cricket Gods for MSD and the boys, and sending out last minute e-mails/twitter updates/facebook birthday wishes before my computer and Blackberry were indiscriminately switched off at 1:50PM sharp. So yeah, the hype was definitely given in to.

Let's start with the before-a-ball-is-delivered aspect of the match. It’s no secret that I utterly and totally detest the Pakistani cricket team, especially the one that has come into being over the last 3 years or so. Ironically they (well, Shahid Afridi) were the team that first got me into cricket in the summer of 1996. However, as the years have progressed and as I’ve watched them go from a talented, brave team with guts to a team that plays like a bunch of annoying, unpredictable, sulky, entitled firecrackers…my fondness for the team has steadily diminished. And to add to it, there was something so disgustingly obnoxious (borderline insulting) about their mind games and general rhetoric before this match – it made me want to punch my TV set multiple times. Despite all of that, I tried my best not to swear (out loud) at the 11 men as they lined up for their national anthem at Centurion. [Also, it was SO hard not to laugh at the poor South African singer who had to mouth the Urdu lyrics of the anthem…Umar Gul looked like a lost caveman (more than usual) for most of it.]

OK, so India had a couple of big injury blows – namely no Yuvi, Viru or Zaheer. And then Mahi went and lost the toss :P Our bowlers then went out there and got the living daylights whacked out of them - lekin, despite the pummeling and the resultant mammoth total to get, I think India could have won the game. Reminiscent of team India of the mid-90’s, however, we lost all the big moments – at times our own fault (two run outs…thanks Rahul Dravid), at times the stars aligned inauspiciously (shocker of a decision to say Suresh Raina was out lbw) – and just didn’t take the game the way we c(sh)ould’ve done.

Some tactical mistakes/Self-made disasters:

- not giving our best part-time spinner (Suresh Raina – check recent scorecards if you don’t believe me) a go even when our “best” spinner is leaking runs from his backside

- truckloads of short deliveries just outside off stump – allowing the Pakis to cut balls to the boundaries like there was no tomorrow.

- question: why does Ishant Sharma (our fastest bowler) not start the innings – why does he come on as first change?? Shouldn’t the swing of RP Singh (although if someone could point to me more than 4 balls that swung for him) be more handy after the ball is a little older/softer??

- a preposterous batting line-up. Disclaimer: I am a huge R “the wall” D supporter/fan, but I’m sometimes perplexed as to what his role in the team exactly is. We were told that RD’s been brought into the ODI team because India is incredibly weak playing shorter deliveries – but how many bouncers do the boys actually have to face during a 50-over game (and don’t say “technically 50”, because we all know a 35over old ball will NOT knock your head off)?! There is no doubting the class and genius of Dravid, but he just doesn’t rotate strike like he needs to during big chases – if anything, he ends up putting more pressure on the fellows that come after. The required rate more often than not is pushed up to 6.5+ rpo after his stay at the crease. My ideal batting line-up from the guys that were playing yesterday: Gambhir, Tendulkar, MS, Rahul, Raina, Kohli/Yusuf Pathan, Yusuf Pathan/Kohli.

Ultimately, despite all the efforts they made, I really wish the boys hadn’t played like such twits – not being able to maintain a good line/length and the many instances of really bad decision-making during the chase really didn’t help the very difficult cause the team had on their hands.

Having said all that, I’m very proud of the team. A weak Indian side was playing a fully-fit Pakistan. And what more – a Pakistani team that believes beating India is more important than any other victory. We gave them a good fight. And, I am always in awe of MSD’s brand of leadership – he is an honest, no-nonsense kind of man -- critical when necessary but always supportive of the team. I am very proud of how India approached the politics of this match and the disappointment of our subsequent defeat. As much as the Indian press tried to ram it into our heads that this was “the first India-Pak match since 26/11”, the team decided to stay away from irresponsible, masaledar journalism and focus on what the game really is – a group stage match in the 2009 Champions Trophy. It makes me really proud to see our boys play this game as if it’s any other – one they’d really like to win, because as sportsmen, that’s what they’re supposed to do. Of course I’m not denying that we all wanted to win it that much more because it is against Pakistan – but we weren’t looking to win because it was against Pakistan. The maturity with which MSD and the rest of the team handled the pressure was fantastic. I can safely say, for myself and for most Indian cricket fans out there (please don't go out and ask your friendly, BJP-supporting neighbour ok?), on any given day, beating Australia (oh please Cricket Gods, PLEASE) is 10 times more satisfying than beating a Pakistani side. What say you?

Ultimately, India’s back under pressure again – it’s a knock-out tournament for us now. We have to beat both Australia and The West Indies to qualify for the semis. It will be far from easy, but we have more than enough talent in our squad to do it. I hear that Team India is thinking of playing 5 specialist bowlers in the next game against Oz. God forbid there’s a “batting collapse”. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this (potential) decision – MSD’s known to stick to the same squad throughout a tournie to show faith in his players (remember T20 World Cup), but maybe this shuffling will do us some good. Let’s see. This is the worst part about being a spectator – you just never the get the opportunity to jump onto the pitch and bowl the perfect spell: Shaon Bhattacharya – 3/24 off 6 overs *sigh*

Although, maybe it’s good I’m not allowed to be on a cricket pitch when Pakistan is too – I don’t want to be put on death row for murdering Younis Khan (I usually have a great deal of respect for this man – he’s just been really annoying during the last few weeks), Afridi and motor mouth Gul in cold blood. I want to be able to see India lift the World Cup at least once before I die…

Cricket fever love,

S xxx

** Favourite quote from pre-match buildup: “More than us, Sachin would be under enormous pressure since now so much rests on him to deliver the goods” – Younis Khan at a Press Conference on 25/09

Oh yeah, this is definitely the first time that Sachin Tendulkar has ever faced such pressure in his 20 year long batting career. And obviously, he’s not a good enough player to overcome such pressure huh? Especially seeing as "he’s not a super-natural creature or ghost” (Khan’s words, not mine). Really, Younis? The greatest batsman in the history of the game was under more pressure than your entire team during a first round match in the Champions Trophy?! Aren’t you just the most modest (and delusional) mouse in the barn…

:D

MARKO is here!! Well, technically in the shower - but he's HERE! *smiles*

Marko is one of my oldest friends - we met when I was in Joburg on a summer break in 2003 - although, I've never before really had the opportunity to spend oodles of time with him. From the very first time we met, we've had a very special connection and he's one of the few people who I've always shared a "finish-each-0ther's-sentences" type relationship with. I've never really been able to explain our relationship to other people...I think even some of my closest friends won't recognise the name Marko...whenever I'd speak about him at Uni, I'd just lump him into the "one of my close high school friends" or "one of my friends from home" category. But, in reality, he's always been much more than that. He's the most real and independent person I know and even we, those who know him best, are never able to predict quite what he's going to do next. In my world, those are three of the most valuable qualities in a person.

I've learned some of my most important life lessons in his presence. Whether it's through our conversations or during the course of our most fun (and infamous) nights out together. It makes a great deal of sense in my head that the dude I party the hardest with is also the wiseman from whom I take a lot of my life-plan advice lol. I suppose it's that paradox which I've always thought people wouldn't get.

This is the first time I'm seeing him since Ibiza (part of the reason why our trip was so amazing is because Marko planned most of it, and he seems to have great connections with every important club owner/promoter on Magic Island) and I haven't stopped smiling ever since he got here...inspite of the fact that he got into the car and instantly made fun of the first song that came out of my speakers [this song - it's SO good]. I actually take that kind of crap from him because he does have ridiculously good taste in music - and he knows a lot of amazing EDM producers, so I count on him to get me a good job in the industry in a few years ;) Even though he hasn't lived in Lusaka for about 6 years or so, he still knows more about the "hip" places here than I do. I sometimes hate being friends with him - he's just so effortlessly cool...and yes, I know that's a very highschool thing to say, but really he is. And the reason I can be so nice about him on here is because I know for a fact that he doesn't read my blog (the audacity!).

All in all, I'm pretty sure the next few days are going to be awesome. Pretty darn awesome.

I like drama

…when it’s on TV. However, there is nothing more unbearable than real-life drama. Especially when you’re not directly involved. [Let’s admit it – we all love some excitement in our own lives.] When I’m caught between two friends, having to hear them go on and on about each other all day long - believe me, it gets pretty boring pretty fast. But, it does get me thinking about friendship-drama, old and new...

Every friendship has an expiry date, sure. Some come later than others, but they all end. Or, at least, change drastically. While I’ve never lost a friend, per se – well, one of my friendships is on the verge of a “god-you’re-so-fake-and-annoying-leave-me-alone” type breakdown but that nagging feeling’s been there for the past few months, so it's nothing new – I certainly have seen relationships change and have convinced myself to act accordingly. But, I never pretend like the friendship will be exactly as it once used to be. Might seem terribly painful at first, but ultimately it's life-saving.

No-brainer: we all get mad at our friends – and if it’s a really dear one, the disappointment we feel often makes us angry and bitter. But I think the mark of a friendship that is built to last can be identified by our choosing not to air our frustration in a hurtful way. What really damages the foundation of a friendship is what you tell other people when you’re in a fight with your best mate. I’ve definitely been *really* angry/frustrated with my closest friends at random times – usually it’s over their insecurity about our friendship, their insecurity about their relationship with other friends, feelings of being taken for granted, boy-drama (OMG KILL ME NOW!), etc. – but I don’t think I’ve ever told a common friend that I wanted to 'end' a relationship with my bestie. I think what differentiates the strength of our relationships is how low we are willing to stoop when we're angry or disappointed in someone. I think once you open the floodgates and reveal your deep-set resentment towards your closest friends (with a heavy dose of self-righteousness, vengeance and bitchiness) to other people, you’re pretty much decapitating the relationship. If you're being real, that is.

I, therefore, find it very strange when two people who have had a really bitter argument/falling out/i-hate-you phase in the recent past come together like best buds again. WTF, mate? Does all that bitterness truly disappear - and if it does, how? I struggle to understand how people can patch up, when they have confessed to hating who their friend is (versus what their friend is doing). Don't people feel guilty about the things that they said about someone else? Or do we just convince ourselves that the things we said were circumstantial and we don't actually feel that way about the other person. Really?

I personally think it's fake. If romantic relationships are never the same after one person cheats on the other, how can a friendship go back to what it used to be after mudslinging of the highest order? Back-biting your best friend, no matter what the circumstance, is far worse than cheating.

Now, deal.

S xxx

Disclaimer: No, there's no particular/personal reason for why I'm writing this. I'm getting on swimmingly with all my old and new friends. Maybe it's the fact that two of my friends are in a minor high school-esque tussle (i.e. high on drama, low on substance)...but that 'fight' will be sorted out almost as quickly as it broke out (I give it till lunchtime tomorrow), so that can't be it.

Err, I suppose I just needed somewhere to ponder. And this seems like a good place to do so.

Caught by the Po-po

...for hitting 110Km/hr today. All thanks to this track that I was listening to at the time (I promise to give a prize to whoever listens to the whole song!):

Lesson of the day:: NO MORE HARDCORE TECHNO ON THE ROAD!

Crazy-tech-breakdown love,

S xxx

P.S. - For the worriers amongst you, I got off with a warning. It's my charming smile that does it, you know ;)

"We didn't miss it. This is it."

Best-movie-ever.

I watched it 3 times in a row today -- from 1AM - 7AM -- bangbangbang. And, just like that, I found love.

It is at once the most simple and the most lyrical film I've seen...utterly disgustingly bee-yoo-tee-ful! Absolutely adored every scene, song and scene-song in the film. I would sit here and write about my favourite moments from the movie - but I think trying to describe 1hr25mins of film might drive both you and me crazy. If you're looking for something to lift your spirits and splash a Skittles-sweet rainbow over your life - pleasepleaseplease watch this movie. If you're not happier and/or groovier at the end of the experience...someone better call 911, because your heart has officially stopped beating.

And the soundtrack? OH, THE SOUNDTRACK! I think I just rediscovered the Indie side of me :) I've decided to give my subwoofers a break from heavy basslines and, instead, go with the sweet (albeit somewhat cacophonous) Indie-rock melodies of the soundtrack for the next few days.

New York. Musical soulmates. Sunrise. Love. The story feels all too familiar...

Lots of "Where's Fluffy" love,

S xxx

N.B. - Can we PLEASE recognise the awesomeness of the "Maybe we are the pieces" moment! Oh, Michael Cera, you are the cheese to my baguette, the jelly to my toast... *sigh*

No work, only play on Saturday!

I've found it very hard to sit down and study today. I've spent most of the morning sipping on Mango tea, chair-raving to some really excellent Trance sets sent to me by friends I've made through this gloriously interconnected EDM world and gorging myself on yoghurt and snazzy fresh fruit. I've had my text book open to Chapter 5: Corporate Governance and Social Responsibility for the last hour and a half. Just cannot seem to get into it today. Bah.

Watched Delhi 6 last night. Hmmm, wasn't exactly impressed by it or anything - but wasn't as grossly disappointed as I know a lot of people were. I thought Abhishek was really quite excellent (though it was hilarious seeing him struggle with the American accent...who knew New Yorkers *actually* speak with an Aussie/Cockney accent when they're nervous? lol), Sonam Kapoor was delectably gorgeous, the cinematography was magical (Delhi is one of my least favourite cities, and still I found myself falling a little bit in love with the narrow galis and cluttered skyline), and I can watch the movie a thousand times just to be able to witness the sheer perfection of "Dil Gira Dafatan". Ultimately, though, the film felt a little preachy and kind of raw. Lish asked me who my favourite character in the film was...umm I'd have to say the random fakir with his mirror who tries (without success?) to drive home the Sufi message that god resides in each of us. All in all, a 6/10 rating (would've been 5, but "Dil Gira Dafatan" kicks it up a notch).

I decided last night that I'm going to re-read the Harry Potter series. I've read the first 5 books like 8 times each, the 6th 4 times and the 7th only once. I haven't read them in a terribly long time, so I feel like each plot twist will surprise me. For which I'm very excited. (Hey, my life is boring, OK. Joy in the little things, remember?)

And yeah, before you remind me, it's Electric Zoo weekend in New York. First thing I thought about when I woke up this morning. I had my tickets bought in April :'( ...I suppose more than not being able to be at the actual event itself (because, honestly, Ibiza/Mykonos this summer was 5trillion times better than any Electric Zoo ever can be), I feel like it's what EZF stood for. I suppose I'm more disappointed in the fact that none of my life plans have seemed to pan out the way I've expected them to in the past few months. It makes me feel so utterly powerless...

Oh, STUFF IT! So I'm not in New York for EZF! But I can certainly pump myself up with some bangin' Hard Trance, look forward to having coffee with Amadeus (yes, that's his real name), and of course get sucked into Harry's transformation from mere Muggle to Hogwarts freshman. No more Negative Nancy behaviour from me!

Ooh ok, an M6 belter on Daniel's set is emanating from my speakers. Must get back to my duties as a chair raver. Good day to you all!

Hands-in-the-air love,

S xxx

P.S. - Those of you who ARE at the Electric Zoo Festival today/tomorrow - have an amazing time! And give Markus Schulz, Armin van Buuren and Menno de Jong my lurv :)

What You Need*

A thousand apologies for slacking off on the blogging front recently. I suppose it’s the result of a nasty combination of ridiculous amounts of studying (one of our lecturers keeps going vagabond-student on us and playing truant), catching up with tons of old friends and a (rather sad) realization that I’m not particularly interesting. LOL! No, but seriously – life, other than a few only-I-would-appreciate type sparks, has been rather quiet.

But, I guess that’s the very essence of Life In Lusaka. Quiet, relatively unchanging, comforting and stifling all at once. It’s like a hug I guess. So warm and lovely in the beginning…but after a few seconds turns into an experience that is just horribly awkward and asphyxiating. (New readers, I have queer metaphors/analogies…just deal, OK?) Just to be clear: I’m not at the blue-in-the-face stage yet. Not even close. But this hug is slowly losing its tenderness…

I’ve been trying to do lots of things to spice things up (OK, you can drop the creepy hug analogy right about here) in this boring *cough* not-busy city – I’ve been revisiting places that remind me of my child-and-early-adult-hood, I’ve been reading a lot, I’ve been teaching English to my lovely children (note to World: Congolese kids are going to rule the effing world!), I’ve been taking classes, I’ve been transcribing/shaping parts of my thesis, and I will soon learn to play the guitar and (wait for it) DJ (we’re starting with Minimal and Electro and then moving on to Trance eep!)! Ooooh Oooh AND I found out on Monday that my Trance radio shows can all be streamed right here, in mi casa! Oh, joyyyyy! [No, but seriously…I was listening to music that was like 4 weeks old. Unacceptable in my world. OK, I digress…] Also, I’ve met some ridiculously nice people since I’ve been back – the kindest, most interesting, down-to-earth young people I’ve met in a very long time – which means my social life hasn’t exactly been rotting away in a dingy dumpster. And, honestly, I’ve lost a lot of that horrible nagging emptiness that followed me around during my years away at Uni. I’m definitely reconnecting with old parts of myself and (perhaps more importantly) discovering new talents that I never knew I had. But, there are also a lot of things that I do miss about le developed world…Boston/Cambridge, in particular.

Smoke alarms. The MAC store on Newbury Street. Mobile internet (that actually works). Casual street chat. Walking to and from my destinations. Cafés. People walking their dogs. Whole Foods. Antique wine shops. Creepy waiters (who woulda thought, huh?). Netflix. Joggers. Credit cards (ooh how I love me some plastic!). People minding their own business. Used bookstores and the owners who live for their trade. Pesto pasta. Phone conversations (versus SMSes that read like “wer r v mtng 2nyt?”). Happy Hour(s). The MBTA!! Burdick’s (although I’ve definitely lost 3 or 4Kgs because there isn’t one here…mmm, chocolateheaven). Being near all my smart-cookie East Coast friends.

*sigh* But no, this shan’t be a whiny post…because, I really am enjoying my time in Lusaka immensely. I suppose it’s only natural to miss what you’ve left behind. I know I used to whine about living in an uptight, warm-sunshine-less city all the time when I was in New England. Basically, iHappy…if not entirely content.

At this very moment, though, I’m thinking that my malcontent stems from a morbid lack of carbs in my system. Only one cure: ice-cream and a movie. Lemon-cherry sorbet (hah! Bet you didn’t think we get this fancy-shmancy stuff in Lusaka, did you?!) and Delhi 6, I'm thinking. Without any OMG-I-should-be-reading-this-450-page-book-on-political-theory guilt?

Umm yeah…suddenly the hug feels all warm and fuzzy again.

Hugs of the non-metaphorical variety,

S xxx

*I couldn't think of a title for this post, so I decided to just use the name of the song I was listening to when I started writing. Which, it turns out, fits quite well :) And, in case you're interested, this is le song. Warning: it's a belter, best heard loud :D

All Loves Excelling...

That's all.

"I'm Shipping Up To Boston"

I'm watching The Departed on the telly right now. It's the 6th time I'm watching it in as many months. So friggin' baller!

*Ooh I love how the film poster looks on the black background of my blog. The film and I were meant to be.

** Just finished le film. Jeepers, I miss Boston like craaaazy! Can't wait to be back there in a few months :)

"Oh crap, I didn't make a friggin' wish! Dammit! Hello, you guys are supposed to *remind* me!"

...LOL ok, so I forgot to make a Birthday wish. Genius, I know. But after yesterday, I can't possibly think of much else that life could be offering me right now. I want to thank ALL of you for making my Birthday so very special!! I'm truly blessed to have friends and loved ones as awesome as you lot. THANK YOU for the calls, messages, cards, presents!, love...it really made me feel so spoiled :)

It was so lovely to be home this year for the b'day. It was a quiet day, which is something I really wanted. Just some time to reflect on the past year (which has been packed to the rafters with Change, Obama included ;)) and to be surrounded by the people I care most deeply about. Oh and there were some non-sappy incidents as well - for instance, I *FINALLY* WATCHED THE HANGOVER!!! Eeeee! And yes, I loved it. I literally fell off my seat, had an unstoppable bout of hiccuping and basically annoyed everyone with my incessant guffawing for the entire 99mins of film. [If you haven't seen it yet - what on earth are you waiting for?!] Anyway, all in all a great day! SADLY, though, I have no exciting Karaoke story to tell. Bummer, I know. My parents and I skipped going out to dinner and instead stayed at home and talked late into the night - so no "Stop right now thank you very much"-ing occurred.

However, the good news is that I'm going to the Creole place TOMORROW night for a friend's Birthday dinner!! And the people I'm going with are simply awesome (read as: as far from 'normalcy' as humanly possible) -- so I promise to have atleast some interesting stories to tell!

Alright if I'm to wow the patrons at Le Triomphe Dolphin (yes I'm as puzzled as you are as to why it's called that...crazy Mauritians) with my Baby Spice impressions, I'm going to need some sleep. So, bedtime it is. Warm bed, fluffy pillows, Pride & Prejudice -- Mama's coming :)

Zzzzzz,

S xxx

BLURG! I'm old!

...15hours away from being 22 (technically, because I was born at 12:13PM on 26/08/1987). Gosh, I'm suddenly feeling quite ancient (no offence to the above-22 readers of LFMACH). Two-and-two...Twenty Two. Like in Lily Allen's latest single. I'm supposed to be living life to the fullest right now, aren't I?!

Erm...yeah, about that...

It's a hard thing to do, hey? A part of us just knows (or, I suppose, assumes) that we are going to be up with the sun (well some of us, atleast - I definitely have a few friends who rise when the sun is in its third quarter...slackers) tomorrow. So how does one live as if today is all s/he has? Oh, to be as carefree as (a ridiculously awesome) Mika in "We Are Golden"...

You know what...I think I've just been inspired! (NO, smartass, I'm not about to whip off my clothes and prance about in my neon-bright bedroom) I think I'm going to do something that I've never done before. OK, I'm going to start off small. There's no way I'm telling him I love him. And I'm definitely not going to bash in the windshield of my mortal enemy's new BMW. No. (But thanks for the silent offers :P) What I am going to do is join the cornballs at my local Creole restaurant/Karaoke place (yes, these do exist. come visit me in Lusaka, if you don't believe it) tomorrow evening and (with full commitment) belt out a Spice Girls song in front of 60-odd irate customers :)

Hah, you're laughing now but wait till you find out that the talent scout of Interscope Records was in the audience and that I've been signed up for a multi-million dollar record contract/world tour. Then I know you'll be the first to ask - Lady Gaga* who?

Birthday dares, anyone?

Love and back aches,

S xxx

*Does anybody else think this woman is absolutely rubbish?

Ramadan Mubarak!

When the carnal soul is in need,
the spirit goes into ascension;
when the gate of the prison is broken,
the soul reaches the Beloved.

The heart has rent the curtain of darkness
and winged up to the sky;
the heart, being of the angels,
has again arrived.

Wash your hands and your mouth,
neither eat nor speak;
seek that speech and that morsel
which has come to the silent ones.

-- From Rumi's Ghazal No. 892 from the Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi

Stay strong, stay true, and insha'Allah we will find ourselves.

Hiatus

...for reasons that my dreams are made of.

I promise to return with stories, music, love and maybe even a little magic.

And before I leave, a little something to make your summer just that much sweeter. Possibly one of the top 5 tunes of the year, it's a song that gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. Enjoy (and think of me everytime you play it on your computer/iPod :D)



Byebyebyeeee xxx

Happy Birthday, handsome.

And yes, still a fan.

On being a CHJ

Writer's block. Bad, ugly, scheming writer's block. The past few days have been awful. Not only have I not been able to string together a coherent piece of writing, to add salt to my proverbial injury, my verbal arguments make me sound like Daffy Duck's slightly-demented older cousin. BLURG!

Also, I think I'm turning into a "Chalta hai" jerk. If there was one thing I never thought I'd ever be - it was a Chalta Hai Jerk (CHJ). [Is that sentence even grammatically sound?] I've always cared, always had an opinion, and always cared very passionately about my opinions. And yet, for the last few days, I've been totally OK with ending fights *ahem* conversations on Kashmir, the Gates arrest, organised religion and Palestine with the most vile of all communication patterns: the shrug of the shoulders, followed by a subtle, complacent grimace and then the final flourish: "Arre forget it, na! Chalta hai..." Type A CHJ behaviour, right there. I even turned off "The Big Fight" this evening (in my defense, they were all yelling), watched a programme on The Home Network instead and learned how to re-decorate a dorm room so that it resembles the set of a Busta Rhymes rap video. OH GOD!

I find it mighty suspicious that this slow-but-steady transformation into my Hyde-esque CHJ coincides with Mama Language dumping my sorry ass. And, I believe I may have discovered the relationship between the two factors (when I win the Nobel prize for this achievement, you'll *want* to know me): the intensity of CHJ behaviour is inversely proportional to how much Mama Language loves you. Clearly, using this post as scientific evidence, I'm in the shitter.

At this point I'm getting desperate to find a cure, any cure (Note: to all Black Magic practitioners, please do NOT read this as an invitation to send me vials of hedgehog saliva, ground up aardvark toe nails or neon green unicorn eyelashes, thankyouverymuch). And, while I've tried a whole host of things (blasting an N.W.A. album included), nothing seems to be working. The cycle continues to spiral out of control. Oh, it's during these complacency-ridden spells that I wish I were back at Brown - amongst a whole host of self-proclaimed Anarchists (and yes, I realize that is oxymoronic...but a lot of college students' ideological parading is exactly that; oxymoronic...minus the oxy-) who would take me by the hand and educate me in the art of fighting the Man and his hegemonic social constructions. Hmm...maybe I'll get a mohawk.

Or, Plan B. I can just wait. Before I dye my hair Goose Bill Orange (I saw it in a Plascon catalogue. why I was looking through a Plascon catalogue is none of your business, dummy!) and get a piercing in my elbow, maybe I'll just give myself some time. Maybe Mama Language will see how much I miss her and how hard I'm trying to win back her love. Maybe I'll stop being a CHJ and actually end a conversation on a more constructive note. And maybe, just maybe you won't have to read psycho posts like this ever again.

And then there's always Plan C. Sometimes the status quo ain't so bad. If you can't fix it why try, right? Arre chod naa, yaar! Chalta...Hah, only kidding :)

My day in a quote

"Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men."

— Joseph Conrad

Wasilla, Over and Out

This is great! Another reason why we should thank the millions of Black, Hispanic and Asian voters* for coming out on 4th November, 2008 and ensuring our world wasn't run by this "Mavericky" individual.

*According to TIME magazine (August 3, 2009):

Voter Turnout in numbers [Red for 2004, Blue for 2008]

White: 65.8% vs 66.1%

Black: 56.3% vs 64.7%

Hispanic: 28% vs 49.9%

Asian: 29.8% vs 47.6%

[And yes, I know that these numbers don't necessarily prove the Minority Vote singlehandedly helped Barack win the election (because I'm sure there are some mis-guided people of colour who continue to vote Republican ;) )...but we golly well know that their votes helped. A whole lot. And maybe even a whole lot more than we know.]

N.B. - I realise that this post is virtually red-white-and-blue. What can I say, I'm just that patriotic.

"This One Night"...

Even the most hard-hearted person must glow with joy when they see this. So beautiful...

[P.S. - yes, most definitely did cry.]

Perhaps somewhere...

"It was the hour for sums. Father Arnall wrote a hard sum on the board and then said:

- Now then, who will win? Go ahead, York! Go ahead, Lancaster!

Stephen tried his best but the sum was too hard and he felt confused. The little silk badge with the white rose on it that was pinned on the breast of his jacket began to flutter. He was no good at sums but he tried his best so that York might not lose. Father Arnall's face looked very black but he was not in wax: he was laughing. Then Jack Lawton cracked his fingers and Father Arnall looked at his copybook and said:

- Right. Bravo, Lancaster! The red rose wins. Come on now, York! Forge ahead!

Jack Lawton looked over from his side. The little silk badge with the red rose on it looked very rich because he had a blue sailor top on. Stephen felt his own face red too, thinking of all the bets about who would get first place in elements, Jack Lawton or he. Some weeks ago Jack Lawton got the card for first and some weeks he got the card for first. His white silk badge fluttered and fluttered as he worked at the next sum and heard Father Arnall's voice. Then all his eagerness passed away and he felt his face quite cool. He thought his face must be white because it felt so cool. He could not get out the answer for the sum but it did not matter. White roses and red roses: those were beautiful colours to think of. And the cards for first place and second place and third place were beautiful colours too: pink and cream and lavender. Lavender and cream and pink roses were beautiful to think of. Perhaps a wild rose might be like those colours and he remembered the song about the wild rose blossoms on the little green place. But you could not have a green rose. But perhaps somewhere in the world you could."

- A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce (page 8/9)

There is a reason why this man is a god of Modernism. There's a reason why he's the baap of stream-of-consciousness.

Circa 1963

They just don't make 'em like they used to...

Boast of Quietness

Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.

The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.

Sure of my life and my death, I observe the ambitious and would like to understand them.

Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.

Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.

They speak of humanity.

My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.

They speak of homeland.

My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword, the willow grove's visible prayer as evening falls.

Time is living me.

More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.

They are indispensable, singluar, worthy of tomorrow.

My name is someone and anyone.

I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn't expect to arrive.

- Jorge Luis Borges

Speaking of friends of the Earth...

Oh lordy. Like we didn't have enough problems already.

Lazy post

Mish-mash of everything that was 12/07/2009:

• - I visited another one of my dad’s construction sites this morning. Dusty and smelly, noisy and needy – I began to see why Papa Workaholic has always treated every project like it is a toddler.
• - Sometimes I wish my life weren’t so burdened by agnostic baggage. Maybe some injustices would be easier to understand.
• - I played a game today. I tried to find a Trance song title in every sentence I heard/spoke. There, clearly, aren’t enough Bengali Trance DJ’s…
• - We have only one Jane Austen book in our entire library (Mansfield Park). And three copies of Love in the Time of Cholera. WTF?
• - My Econ teacher from IB gave me his book of poems to read. My knowledge of the world has officially been humbled. Was reminded that I’ve taken a few baby steps in the Long Distance (oo, oo – Trance title!) ahead.
• - Test cricket is VERY MUCH alive. Also, are there any Oz-try-lee-an cricketers – barring Steve Waugh, Adam Gilchrist, Matty Hayden and Bret Lee – that are actually tolerable?
• - Red Roses Tea > Lipton Darjeeling Gold. Boo-yah!
• - I don’t want to be friends with anyone who doesn’t love this song: Trip to P.D. – Cosmic Gate
• - Zambia’s officially only going to have 3 weeks of a ‘real’ winter this year. Saying a (nonbeliever’s version of) prayer tonight for more friends of the Earth.

Drunk-on-tea,

S

Oh Hope, you are indeed Audacious!

This morning, I finished reading The Audacity of Hope. I'm very glad I had not read this book before I joined the Barack Obama campaign in 2007 - any shred of objectivity I had about him would have certainly been clouded. It's a book that I wish never ended - he's a man I wish could be cloned and scattered, by the millions, across the globe. Even if you don't share Obama's politics, one must admire his honesty and his attempts to construct a Third Way of living a life of political purpose - one that is "devoid of petty ambitions and narrow calculations". His writing is shockingly honest and as I worked my way through it, I began to understand the incredible hard work and strength of spirit it takes to mould oneself into a visionary thinker.

There are some serious *moments* in this book. You know, those instances when you're racing towards the fullstop at the end of the paragraph, breathless because your mind is racing, teetering at the very cusp of enlightenment - that millisecond when you are paralyzed with awe, when you have to take a moment to just breathe, to bask in the wondrous nature of compassionate intellect. Obama is the kind of writer who can produce just that kind of effect - he effortlessly ties together lessons learnt from living with an emasculated maternal grandfather with those he learns from a hard-fought (and, in the end, an "embarrassing", failed) race for a Senate seat in 2000 with those he learns from an Army General in the Green Zone at the peak of the war in (or "on" depending on your political biases) Iraq.

I think, more than anything else, it's a work that made me look more closely at who I am as a citizen of an increasingly worrisome world. Everyone has one of those books - for some it's a religious text, for some it's the album of letters that an ailing mother once wrote to them and for others it's the words of a woman/man they deeply admire - the book that makes you see where you've been, where you stand and where you are headed. The process began pretty early on in the book - page 30, to be precise - for me. Reflecting on his own youth, Obama says:

"Mainly my understanding of the sixties came as a result of my own investigations, as my adolescent rebellion sought justification in the political and cultural changes that by then had already begun to ebb. In my teens, I became fascinated with the Dionysian, up-for-grabs quality of the era, and through books, film, and music, I soaked in a vision of the sixties very different from the one my mother talked about: images of Huey Newton, the '68 Democratic National Convention, the Saigon airlift, and the Stones at Altamont. If I had no immediate reasons to pursue revolution, I decided nevertheless that in style and attitude I, too, could be a rebel, unconstrained by the received wisdom of the over-thirty crowd.

Eventually, my rejection of authority spilled into self-indulgence and self-destructiveness, and by the time I enrolled in college, I'd begun to see how any challenge to convention harbored within it the possibility of its own excesses and its own orthodoxy. I started to reexamine my assumptions, and recalled the values my mother and grandparents had taught me. In this slow, fitful process of sorting out what I believed, I began silently registering the point in dorm-room conversations when my college friends and I stopped thinking and slipped into cant: the point at which the denunciations of capitalism or American imperialism came too easily, and the freedom from the constraints of monogamy or religion was proclaimed without fully understanding the value of such constraints, and the role of victim was too readily embraced as a means of shedding responsibility, or asserting entitlement, or claiming moral superiority over those not so victimized."

Something about this passage made a dormant part of me wake up, shake itself and smell the Java. Perhaps it was how easily I could identify with the chasing-our-own-tails dorm-room conversations - Brown students' conversations usually revolve around some combination of the following ideas: American/Western hegemony and the postcolonial identity, gender bias and sexual liberation, artistic/intellectual license and reconstructions of truth (with a small t), 'enlightened' forms of romance (which are no different from 'normal' stories of puppy love except for the fact that the people narrating the stories have taken far too many literature/literary theory classes for their own good -- yours truly included) - which eventually ended in ideas that, at the time, seemed so revolutionary and individualistic. But in retrospect, are merely re-hashed articulations of things that have already been explored and re-explored in a thousand different ways by a million young liberals before us.

Barack Obama's book gave me much-needed perspective on the danger of big ideas marinating in their own juices, while the thinkers run around like headless chickens. Since stepping out of the Ivy League bubble, I've seen people (once again, self included) go one of two ways - a) they realize that the "real world" is just as gruesome as everyone makes it out to be -- so, every man for himself. Enlightenment be damned - fools are those who do not heed the call - "Capitalism zindabad"! b) they continue to pursue ambitions of being indie filmmakers, write for obscure magazines and believe that they are truly better than everyone else (the quintessential artiste's holier-than-thou attitude that is intolerable at best, a crime against humanity at worst) as they are contributing to the world in more meaningful ways. OK, so that's a gross oversimplification of people's life choices, if there ever was one. But, you get the gist of what I'm trying to say. It's folly to think that we have to fit one category or the other - it is as easy to be a part of the System and create change as it is easy to be outside the System and be utterly ineffectual to change. I think it's time we seriously convinced ourselves that it doesn't have to be all-or-nothing - wealth-or-human-rights, Ferrari-or-environmental-action, Matisse-or-fight-against-hunger - if we don't want it to be.

Obama tells many stories of people who use their limited means to create change. There's Mac, in downtown Chicago, whose workforce is made up, almost entirely (read as 95%), of ex-felons -- giving people a second chance to reclaim their dignity. There are the anti-abortion activists who brave the bitter cold in DC to hold Obama's hand and tell him that they support and believe in the goodness of all of his liberal politics but also wonder why he doesn't see in the Bible what they do. And then, there's the Republican senator who, despite party pressure, chooses to vote for a Senate bill that restricts weapon proliferation and the military-industrial complex's hold on American taxpayers' money.

There are many lessons to be learnt from The Audacity of Hope (I have 18 A-ha! moments marked down with Post-It notes) - but, I think I ended the book having gained an invaluable lesson in battling the oppressive disillusioning powers of modern-day life. A simple equation (Pythagoras aint got nothing on me lol):

little people x (big ideas + vision + a whole lotta determination) = Change.

How about we pick our booties off the comfy couch and do some serious manual labour (I can hear at least 3 of my closest girlfriends gasp audibly) in and for the world. Let's think of "those like Lincoln and King, who ultimately laid down their lives in the service of perfecting an imperfect union. And all the faceless, nameless men and women, slaves and soldiers and tailors and butchers, constructing lives for themselves and their children and grandchildren, brick by brick, rail by rail, calloused hand by calloused hand, to fill in the landscape of our collective dreams".

Why not want to be a part of that? Why, exactly, not?

With many dreams,

S

• Tune for the moment: "Let's Get Lifted" - John Legend