How real is real?
Is the world we live in real enough?
Do we get enough real in our daily lives?
Or do we fulfill our need for the real and ordinary by watching shows on TV claiming to bring you the really real there is to see??
I personally feel there has to be a streak of sadism in anyone who voluntarily watches the newest reality show on the idiot box: Biggest loser something or the other. I happened to catch some 10 mins of it (in my defense im in pain and have been tied to my bed for sometime now, so this momentary loss of intelligence and taste should be pardoned).
And all of the 10 mins i was wondering:
a) Why would someone reach the incredible weight of 132kgs without doing something about it?
b) Having reached that weight why would someone agree to appear on television? (dont they know the camera adds 10 pounds?)
c) Having agreed to appear on television, why would they open their mouths and make statements like "kutte/ kutti bhuankte hain. Bhaunkne do. Kuch farak nahi padta." Like really???
d) Being that size (XXXXXL) why would the men even dream of getting into swimming trunks???? Like get a mirror guys! Really! Man breasts!!! ughhh!!
And then you have the other extreme.
From the really big (politically correct substitute for really fat) to the anorexic (or is it the weight challenged?).
Ever watched the Simple Life? I did. Once. To try and make sense of the whole hoopla! Didnt understand it. Not even a tiny bit. All i made of it was that these two young ladies were bored with having so much money and nothing to do with it. So they decided to go on TV and fool people into believing that they can do stuff that normal people do (read: wear no make up and work for a living)!!
And then there was the whole Big Boss/Big Brother syndrome going around. I dont even want to get into that! Really!! The media has made sure that we dont forget these anytime soon! (Shudders)
Seriously people. Get a life. And if it isnt real enough, get a web cam and watch yourself pick your nose. Better than seeing Rakhi Sawant doing it!
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
Of Tastebuds and Memories
The problem, as i see it, is that we dont appreciate the job our tastebuds do.
And then again, the problem could simply be that we dont appreciate what we put into (or sometimes stuff into) our mouth. Its unfortunate that the act of eating has become one that is purely mechanical and zero skill involving. Eating has been reduced to a "have too" rather than a "want to".
Why am i suddenly becoming all senti about not appreciating food?? Well, apparently, when one is forced to remain immobile, and be dependent on other people to serve you what you eat and drink, your latent memories kick into full gear and start sending some of the most painful signals to your tastebuds. Why painful? Because it is pure torture not being able to act on memories of the most sinful pav-bhaji your brain keeps thinking about and your taste buds keep salivating on!!!
My brain insists on thinking of what i categorise as "good food", which in my mum's dictionary simply means anything that has butter, cheese, white sauce, chocolate or icecream. Well, i can live with that definition! :-p
But you see, it is slightly difficult to explain to parents that i "need" good food. My type of good food. Not healthy food. Good food. There is a difference which the earlier generation fails to grasp (or maybe they just pretend that their age prevents them from basic understanding).
So now, here i am, lying in bed thinking about good food and barely stopping myself from drooling and chewing up my pillow cover!
And then again, the problem could simply be that we dont appreciate what we put into (or sometimes stuff into) our mouth. Its unfortunate that the act of eating has become one that is purely mechanical and zero skill involving. Eating has been reduced to a "have too" rather than a "want to".
Why am i suddenly becoming all senti about not appreciating food?? Well, apparently, when one is forced to remain immobile, and be dependent on other people to serve you what you eat and drink, your latent memories kick into full gear and start sending some of the most painful signals to your tastebuds. Why painful? Because it is pure torture not being able to act on memories of the most sinful pav-bhaji your brain keeps thinking about and your taste buds keep salivating on!!!
My brain insists on thinking of what i categorise as "good food", which in my mum's dictionary simply means anything that has butter, cheese, white sauce, chocolate or icecream. Well, i can live with that definition! :-p
But you see, it is slightly difficult to explain to parents that i "need" good food. My type of good food. Not healthy food. Good food. There is a difference which the earlier generation fails to grasp (or maybe they just pretend that their age prevents them from basic understanding).
So now, here i am, lying in bed thinking about good food and barely stopping myself from drooling and chewing up my pillow cover!
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Glass Toda Char Anna!
Since my last post i have been involved in events such that have me convinced that the universe is listening (and plotting), or that i have plain and simple bad luck(or good luck as may be the perspective)!
But im getting too far ahead. I'll start from the start.
Today happens to be the 12th day of a 21 day sentence as pronounced by my orthopedician on account of my slightly over-zealous efforts at the gym resulting in a damaged knee ligament.
Yes it is as bad as it sounds ;-p
So, to cut a long story short, im forbidden to walk, bend, or in any way strain my right knee and thus im occupying my time by either lying flat on my bed in the room, or in the living room in front of the TV. And if my folks had bought me that tv for my room which ive always wanted, i would have been flat on my bed in my room all the time.
And no. It isnt as much fun as it sounds.
Im fast realising...actually i awakened to this realisation within 2 hours of my forced house arrest, that resting and being waited on hand and foot isnt as great as it is made out to be. I think those are rumours started by people in similar conditions merely to ensure that others get tempted and get to experience the suffering!!! For suffering it is. Pure, unadulterated suffering. In fact im sure that ive sprouted a few roots and am fast going to start spreading (pun intended)
Which brings me to my primary woe (yes, the above ranting wasnt it) It is ironical that most injuries at the gym result in the victim being assigned to the bed for varied periods of time ranging from anywhere from one week to several months, during which time, the poor unfortunate soul (yes, those familiar with the soundtrack of The Little Mermaid may find this phrase familiar) manages to pile on all the few pounds that had been shed!
And that is something that is bothering me more than my knee. I mean c'mon, you drag yourself (finally) to the gym. Will yourself to get onto those machines that look like they have been designed specfially to enhance human suffering. After getting on you psyche yourself into actually moving on it - step by step by step until you actually look like you're working up a sweat and doing justice to the new gym gear you just splurged on. And then what? Your knee decides that it has had enough and that it could do with a 21 day vacation! Ah bah!
Khaya piya kuch nahi, glass toda char anna!
But im getting too far ahead. I'll start from the start.
Today happens to be the 12th day of a 21 day sentence as pronounced by my orthopedician on account of my slightly over-zealous efforts at the gym resulting in a damaged knee ligament.
Yes it is as bad as it sounds ;-p
So, to cut a long story short, im forbidden to walk, bend, or in any way strain my right knee and thus im occupying my time by either lying flat on my bed in the room, or in the living room in front of the TV. And if my folks had bought me that tv for my room which ive always wanted, i would have been flat on my bed in my room all the time.
And no. It isnt as much fun as it sounds.
Im fast realising...actually i awakened to this realisation within 2 hours of my forced house arrest, that resting and being waited on hand and foot isnt as great as it is made out to be. I think those are rumours started by people in similar conditions merely to ensure that others get tempted and get to experience the suffering!!! For suffering it is. Pure, unadulterated suffering. In fact im sure that ive sprouted a few roots and am fast going to start spreading (pun intended)
Which brings me to my primary woe (yes, the above ranting wasnt it) It is ironical that most injuries at the gym result in the victim being assigned to the bed for varied periods of time ranging from anywhere from one week to several months, during which time, the poor unfortunate soul (yes, those familiar with the soundtrack of The Little Mermaid may find this phrase familiar) manages to pile on all the few pounds that had been shed!
And that is something that is bothering me more than my knee. I mean c'mon, you drag yourself (finally) to the gym. Will yourself to get onto those machines that look like they have been designed specfially to enhance human suffering. After getting on you psyche yourself into actually moving on it - step by step by step until you actually look like you're working up a sweat and doing justice to the new gym gear you just splurged on. And then what? Your knee decides that it has had enough and that it could do with a 21 day vacation! Ah bah!
Khaya piya kuch nahi, glass toda char anna!
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