Saturday, 27 May 2017

Everyday Poems

Here are some mundane things I tried to make interesting by writing them down as poems.

Haiku for the Weekend

A haiku is like
A weekend. Hardly begins
And is then over.

Fruit Fly in Coffee - limerick

I thought to myself, "This fruit fly
In my coffee will drown and die."
But turns out that it
Drank a little bit
And became unnaturally high.

Fruit Fly in Coffee - haiku

I thought the fruit fly
In my coffee would drown, but
It just turned hyper.

Dairy-free "Ice Cream" - limerick+haiku

It seemed easy to make, so I
Gave dairy-free ice cream a try,
But I should have known
From the name alone
That it was a terrible lie.

So then I ate some
Ordinary ice cream from
A shop. It was yum.

Street Pics - haikus

I took a photo
of a pretty lane, and drew
a picture of it,

then took a photo
of the picture so I could
show it to some folks.

A few days later,
I came across the photo
on my computer.

I thought to myself,
"Wow, my picture looks just like
a photo. Yay me!"

But turned out it was
the original photo
I was looking at.

Masquerade Glasses  

My friend is getting glasses.

We were discussing frames
when suddenly, a brilliant
idea to me came.

Those masks in masquerade balls
or ones sold at a fair
could become frames for spectacles
you regularly wear.

They could use one-way mirrors
so the wearer can see
all of the world while hiding his
or her identity.

All those designs and colours!
Oh, wouldn't that be fine!
I'd have a dozen pairs, and I
would wear them all the time.

I'd made this as a decorative mask, but imagine it as a frame for glasses. Cool, right?

Until I have the time to design my own, here are a couple of images I'm borrowing from the mighty internet just to give you a clearer idea.

Thursday, 18 May 2017

On Books

I've always loved reading, and I've always been happy to share my books with others. But borrowing from me comes with a set of rules:

I've been this way since I was about ten (if not younger). No, I'm not kidding. Yes, I was serious about the sanctity of paperback spines even as a kid. It happened after I looked closely at an uncle's bookshelf and noticed that the books were in mint condition even though he'd read them all.

Now there are some people who have this idea that "books should look like they've been read/ used". On the surface, this seems fine to me, since a book I've picked up looks the same after I've read it. I mean, all these books look read to me:

Needed an excuse to put up a photo of the loveliest library I've ever been in.

But what these monsters mean is that books need to look like they've been mutilated and have gone through some kind of hell. What a ridiculous notion!

One of the best things about Jess from Gilmore Girls (besides the fact that he's played by Milo Ventimiglia) is that he reads. Unfortunately, he seems to be on Team "Used"Books. He rolls up books to carry in his pocket. He creases the spines. He even writes in other people's books.

Come on, that's not how you're supposed to hold a book!!

Get a notebook! I didn't even make notes in my nicer textbooks in school. Sure, I drew all over my Little Miss Plump, but I was a wee kid and any blank space was a canvas.

I wonder if this ridiculous notion applies to other things they use. I always get a few kicks out of imagining these people mishandling their preciousss cellphones.
Does this look used enough? Why don't you chip the edges a little more and throw it into a bucket of water so it looks more used?

Please handle books with some respect, people. Don't scribble, tear, stretch, fold, add saliva, and so on. And please, PLEASE don't do this:

You don't even need a bookmark; just use any smallish object with a flat surface, like a cellphone.

You can have your book (in a decent state) and read it too. It's really not that hard.

Friday, 5 May 2017

Film Genres

Not quite sure what brought on this wave of craziness, but here we are. These are my alternate ways of remembering film genres. Who cares whether they're practical or not?

  Miss Tree can be very mysterious.

Exclamation of disgust followed by active shunning.

Can't have high school biology without such pictures.

Classroom: place where germs thrive

Communist version of Eddy (from 'Ed, Edd, and Eddy')

Almost like an alternate Rock, Paper, Scissors. Add one more plant and it could even be another Simon and Garfunkel song. (Plants are not drawn to scale, of course.)

The excitement over finding a cool dram.

Coolest fan, get it? And that guy on the right is taking a picture so he has proof to show Queen that he saw the fan in real life, and it wasn't just fantasy.

It certainly would be a 'hora' if they dropped the person in the chair.

Difficult type of film to make, but easy to represent.

Lint can be so upsetting you don't even want to speak.

Note to self: if a pirate is shushing you, something must be very wrong.

 This could be the name of a fraternity that loves sci-fi movies.

Excuse me if that phrase isn't correctly structured. I don't know Italian, so be happy it doesn't say "cannoli, Ventimiglia, regresa a mi, ciao"

Wednesday, 3 May 2017

Life and Ladders

For those of you who may find that hard to read (thanks to Blogger's uncooperative image sizing) here's the (Shel Silverstein-inspired?) poem:

A ladder isn’t just a ladder.

Ladders also represent life 
The ups and downs, the joy and strife.

The view from way up top is great, 
But it’s hard work - and maybe fate?

Don’t let the height make your head spin, 
But don’t forget where you begin.

It’s how you use your ladder, not 
The kind of ladder that you’ve got.

Some ladders are short, others tall, 
Some have flat rungs so you don’t fall,

And if you do fall, breathe, and then 
Make sure you get back up again

Unless you’ve fallen to your death. 

Okay, I think I’ve caught my breath.

I’ll now resume to climb in style 
Up to the roof to fix that tile.

Wednesday, 19 April 2017

Say What You Mean

As someone who usually takes things at face value, it is after much confusion and annoyance over the years that I've realized you often need to take what people say with a pinch of salt.

Of course, there are things you're naturally wary of, like advertisements or restaurant menus that seem too good to be true (because that's exactly what they are).
Sometimes, it's mildly amusing, like when someone you follow has other "followers you know".
How did they know Stephen Amell and I are best friends?

Sometimes, you quickly learn certain things are relative, such as coffee strength or distances:

But at times you realize that many people's understanding of certain words and concepts are nowhere close to what you assume is the real meaning. For example:

"I'm broke."

I suppose you could say that's relative too, but sometimes it's stretched a little too far.
Let me elaborate.
Fortunately, I've never been broke or claimed to be. So the closest I've been was probably in college when I was too lazy to go get money from the ATM.

Me: I only have ten rupees, so these are my dinner options:

My roommate: I'M SO BROKE!
Next day:

Misinterpretation works both ways, though. Like this one time when she was trying to buy something online and asked:

"I promise..."

I take promises very, very seriously, so I tend to believe people when they give me their word on something. If I actually use the word "promise" I make sure to follow through, no matter what. My 8-year-olds will tell you that I even treat pinkie swears with the utmost respect.

So if you say you "promise" to do something and then don't, you shouldn't blame me for flying into an irrational rage.
Especially if you try to brush it off (as many people do) with "promises are meant to be broken".

"Yes, I love reading."

I know it's kind of mean and condescending, but well...

Also, I've noticed that there are some people who, after I've completely trashed Chetan Bhagat, say something along the lines of "Yeah, I don't like him either... but I liked Two States. That was actually a really fun book."
It's almost always Two States that's mentioned in this kind of footnote. So either that IS better than his usual trash or (more likely) these people like his books and are just too embarrassed/polite to say so after I've expressed my intense aversion.

"I didn't sleep last night."

There have been very, very few days in my life when it's happened, but when I say I haven't slept, it's because I haven't slept. At all. So the reactions I got were initially quite confusing. All conversations on sleep deprivation went something like this:

And then, I made a marvellous discovery.
I found that people who said they hadn't slept really meant they'd slept very little (i.e. less than their usual quota). Most people I know say this when they've had four hours or less.
SO, when I say "no sleep", they assume I've got about two-four hours, which explains their alarm when I talk of sleep time in minutes.

My confusion is surely understandable. See, when I say I haven't slept at all, this is what my night is like:

The casual use of this hyperbole has resulted in me becoming cold, unsympathetic, and very impatient with such people.


I don't know how to end this post on a positive note, so I'll just leave this PSA here for everyone who knows me or other people like me:

Sunday, 9 April 2017

Sucky Summer Stuff

I may have written essays about summer being my favourite season back in school. This was mostly because "summer" was synonymous with "vacation", but (as I realize now on looking back) also because we had pleasant climate throughout the year.

Who loves summer now, in 2017? Only two kinds of people, in my mind:
1. Those who live in places so cold that summer means two layers of clothing instead of five
2. Crazy people

So here's a poem on some of those "ugh" summer moments.

If somebody had said to me around ten years ago
That we’d need A.C.s in this city, I’d have said “Oh, no,
This place is naturally cool, it’s pleasant as can be.
You must be crazy if you think that you need an A.C."

But alas! Things have changed so fast. The once warm, friendly sun
Now blazes down with great vengeance, and summers are no fun.
It’s too hot in the afternoon, the mornings are too bright,
It’s dry and irritating, and it’s even hot at night!

'There must be some upside to this', you think, 'well, let me try
To stand outside with my wet hair―see how fast it will dry.'
But thirty seconds later you decide to go back in.
You’d rather not turn into a sizzler with crispy skin.

And inside isn’t always better. Maybe cooler, but
Sometimes there’s no breeze, and, oh joy, there IS a power cut.
So yes, at least you have some shade, but it’s not very nice
When all your fans stop working and your fridge can make no ice.

There is a way to cool oneself, you think as it gets hotter.
You step into the shower and― oh no, you’re out of water!
At least you weren’t brushing, pooping, or covered in soap.
(Yes, that can happen, and all you can do is swear and mope.)

But whenever I’m feeling brave enough to step outside,
I look at all the world around me, and I realize
I hate summer, but the thing that makes it REALLY sucky
Is seeing all these other folk who aren’t half as lucky.

Tuesday, 31 January 2017

Just Keep Singin'

A few months ago, I heard something weird(er than usual) from the kids on the school bus.

Too shocked to actually say anything, I turned around and gave them a long stare which simply received a nonchalant "what?" So, still mortified, I just turned back around and continued to try and ignore them while conflicting thoughts raced through my head.

And then I remembered the 90's.
I thought about the kind of pop music we'd hear all the time. A medley of the likes of Vengaboys, Aqua, Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, Boyzone, Spice Girls, 5ive, 98 Degrees, etc. in all their colourful mediocrity and annoyingly infectious glory. (I still remember the first English music video I ever saw: Hit Me Baby One More Time. I still remember how old I was, whose house I saw it in, and that flash of recognition once the music started.)

Of course we sang these songs all the time, without knowing what they meant. For example, the song Genie in a Bottle has very different implications when you're 10 and when you're 20.
Another popular song, especially for dance contests in school, was Vengaboys's Boom Boom Boom. The chorus goes something like this:
Boom boom boom boom\ I want you in my room\ Let's spend the night together\ Together in my room
8-year-old brain interpretation: 
*Another misunderstood Vengaboys song. As I realized only a few months ago, it's "going to Ibiza", not "going to eat pizza". Learn how to pronounce 'Ibiza', Vengaboys!

Adult (I say 'adult' optimistically) brain:

Often, we sang without even knowing the lyrics. This is from an actual conversation I had with a friend in my class.

We were very creative when it came to making up strange lyrics that sounded like the originals.

It was "pour some Dom Perignon and hit the lights out", but how in the world are pre-teens supposed to know that? Besides, if we'd known the actual lyrics, I bet our discussions would have revolved around who Dom Perignon was and how you could possibly pour... okay, never mind. Let's just move on to the next line.

At an age where love is such a vague, abstract concept, and when a phrase involves the word, you naturally assume it's... something like this?

Not that it mattered much. All we really cared about was singing it exactly like Blue did, especially the high Lee Ryan parts.

So maybe the kids singing Anaconda and such will look back a few years later and have parts of their childhood ruined. Beyond that, I don't know, either they'll be scarred for life or they'll get over it after a while, hopefully enough to be comfortable with it and maybe even enjoy it.