Friday 26 November 2010

Retardation

People might think ‘how many fingers did she put into a plug socket?!’ when they see you but they still see ME. Curls, I love you.

I get called Simba and/or Mufasa but seriously, Hakuna Matata (it means 'no worries')! Curls, I love you.

I have to use, and have no, GHDs. 180 degrees of ceramic heat technology struggle to handle you - but 180 minutes would struggle to create the same level of frizzy, unmanageable perfection. Curls, I love you.

I lose rulers and packets of ketchup in your Amazonian mess. Thank you for an original storage device others lack. Curls, I love you.

Sometimes you confuse people on my ethnicity. This permits me with the opportunity to create an alter-ego. Curls, I love you.

Curls, you really wind (me) up.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

(Yes, I took some liberties)

My brain talks to me. Seriously, it won’t shut up.

It may just be the most self-less brain in the world - It’s always concerned about me.

‘What the hell have you done with your life?’ it asks, genuinely concerned.

It creates panic and then changes its mind:

‘Don’t worry, it’ll work out in the end’

‘Brain’, I say, ‘stop talking’

I’m pretty sure it’s bi-polar, the number of mood swings it has.

My brain then randomly bursts into song at 3am with lyrics everyone else has forgotten about. I don’t need a radio for a rendition of The Lighthouse Family...

Shut up, brain. I’m trying to sleep!

On it goes singing. ‘What’s the next line?’ it asks, indifferent to my frustrations.

‘You will always keep me flying high in the sky of love’, I say – now bored of the fight and resorting to rolling my eyes and sighing restlessly.

‘Oh by the way, you need to buy some toothpaste tomorrow. Write it down before you forget!’

...Thanks Brain :)

Sunday 21 November 2010

14.02.1991 - 14.11.2010

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

The last time I ever saw Jasmin she came to my house at about 10pm and we just sat in her car wearing pyjamas. We chatted for several hours until she announced she was hungry so we went to the McDonald’s drive-thru to eat apple pie, the server eyeing our clothes.

Even before finding out she had died, I considered it one of the best times I had shared with her because it just exemplified everything about us: comfort. Jasmin was always the first person I called whenever something went wrong. When we were younger we would just sit for hours on one of those green boxes at the bottom of Vaughan Gardens crying or laughing. I went back there after hearing the news and saw it wasn’t there anymore.

Several months ago we both agreed that if we had met later in life there was no way we’d be friends because our tastes were SO different. I’m relieved I never had to test that theory because I am grateful for those years I got to share with Jasmin. She was my first, oldest and best friend. We saw each other grow up to be pretty much polar opposites and yet be ridiculously similar because we grew into each other.

We often joked about how we were never in sync – when one was strong and confident, the other was timid and nervous. Maybe this happened for a reason – we had to be there for each other. Jasmin always called me her ‘safety net’ and I always told her she underestimated herself; she could do a lot more than she ever thought. And she did. The past year she came out of her shell and threw herself in at the deep end – moving out for university to study for a profession she genuinely wanted, working, and partying.

When we were eating our apple pies in the McDonald’s car park she was talking so excitedly about the people she had met and the things she had done. I just stopped her, smiling, and said ‘you’ve changed...are you happy?’ she just tilted her head in that way she always did, grinned and said ‘yeah’. That moment is my only real comfort now. I know she was so happy with her life when she went - she died at a high point.

I’m proud to call her my friend. Jasmin always laughed so loudly and with such ease (once we sat in the living room with my mother and she was in hysterics, basically ruining a story, trying to explain how her Ba said ‘chicken flu’ instead of ‘bird flu’... It really wasn’t that funny), she was cheeky (phoning my mum with the genius lie of telling her she had arranged a surprise party so I could stay out even later than planned) and defensive (basically beating up another girl she disliked for laughing at her joke, which also made Jasmin the school hero for a long time). She was so fun to be around and made me do things that I would never otherwise (notably go on the Space Mountain rollercoaster in Paris, where she cried more than I did, screaming ‘TEJ I LOVE YOU!’). I knew Jasmin would be an amazing mum as she’d shout ‘put on a jacket!’ when we went out. Then again, she was also a massive party animal and I will always be impressed by her ability to pretend she was completely sober - immediately after singing something ridiculously off-key.

Few people realised exactly how sentimental Jasmin was. One time we went to the park and were running around hitting the trees to make blossom fall down. A lady walked past and Jasmin looked at her straight in the eye and smiled (she always did that with strangers) and then held out one of the blossoms. Jasmin carried on watching the woman as she walked off, and beamed with surprise saying ‘she put it in her pocket!’ That memory is so vivid because it was one of a whole week we had spent together, immediately after an argument which we grew up to laugh about, when my mum asked us ‘aren’t you bored of each other yet?’ and in unison we said ‘no’.

I have no regrets in terms of saying things I should have, Jasmin knew exactly what she meant to me. Ever since the day she got me 3 bracelets and I gave her one back, I haven’t taken them off. I still wear the friendship necklace I got when we were 8 and Jasmin was meant to move to Mauritius. We would randomly text the other one with lyrics or just saying ‘I love you!’ I only regret not seeing her the night before she passed away, like we had planned earlier, and not taking more photos with her or recording her crazy laugh. I have so many stories about Jasmin and could talk about her forever because she’s been at every step.

I’ll never, ever get over or forget Jasmin. I will always love and aspire to be like her as she was the closest I’ve had to a sister. Every time I bumped into a teacher from nursery, primary or high school I’d be asked ‘how are you? ... How’s Jasmin?’ I am so grateful for those years I shared with her. Jasmin’s death has made me appreciate life just that little bit more and I intend on living every aspect of it with more energy and positivity – constantly thinking of her. We will never be alone.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Sometimes drills make wholes
You just have to turn on the power

Saturday 25 September 2010

Idealology

Follow This.

Follow God Follow Mum Follow Dad Follow Brother Follow Sister Follow Teacher Follow Boss Follow Friend Follow Girlfriend Follow Boyfriend Follow Law Follow TV Follow Radio Follow Billboard Follow GPS Follow Magazine Follow Arrows Follow Guides Follow Fashion Follow Them

Now follow your fucking Brain.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Things to (do to make customer) buy:

1) Bulk-order a low costing, raw commodity and ‘add value’
2) Hire an ‘innovative’ (i.e. ‘ruthless’) businessman who designs a figure to parallel ‘Tony the Tiger’
3) Prise your way into the family home and kidnap children’s minds
4) Encourage them to influence peers
5) Abuse parent’s love for the kids and guilt them into spending money
6) Let everyone believe we are who we say we are

I walk unsuspectingly into an ocean of promises which are portrayed so attractively in their perfect packaging so beautifully crafted to craft my will-be-beautiful thoughts. So many offers to help me save money (so many ways to sell my soul).

Buy 1 get 1 free on happy families when you buy this box of ‘Kellogg’s Corn Flakes’.

Spend £3 on bifidus digestivum for a digestive problem you never noticed until the advert and get a free, completely unrelated product

50% off a deodorant that makes you ‘The Sex’

...Empty wallet. Open your eyes.

Thank you for shopping at the 'Dreams Supermarket'. The place where you’re told you need pointless crap to become happy.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

'The people who truly deface our neighbourhoods are the companies that scrawl their giant slogans across buildings and buses trying to make us feel inadequate unless we buy their stuff...Well, they started this fight and the wall is the weapon of choice to hit them back.' - Banksy

Friday 24 September 2010

Oh, Hollywood

Dear Hollywood,

I'm writing this to tell you how confusing you have made my and, I'm sure, others' life. There are so many questions you’ve put in our heads:

1) Is life meant to be poignant like in 'American Beauty' or is it all basically a load of shits and giggles? I stared at a crisp packet for a long time. When I realised it was a cheese and onion one I thought 'this is definitely being filmed' but then people started whispering and I heard 'fetish' more than once. Ricky Fitts is not the only misunderstood, artistic soul.

2) Where are these men that I fall in love with every time I go to the cinema - and why do they fall in love with annoying women like Rose DeWitt Bukater? Do they not ever hang out in East London? I own granny pants just like Bridget Jones and have yet to find someone who finds that attractive. Hugh Grant, please, let's rendezvous.

3) Are there any evening classes I can take to learn how to speak that poetically? Also, perhaps I'm a prude but is it really necessary for Kat to cry in front of a class in '10 Things I Hate About You'? What happened to pride? I thought modern Hollywood is obsessed with aesthetics and looking good. She looks terrible.

4) Should I consider an explosion normal, and never bother turning around or say 'FUCK!' when I feel a slight burning sensation on the back of my head? Maybe in comparison to your protagonists I've lived a sheltered life.

5) I know stereotypes exist because they have truth in them but I have never met a magical black person before. Magical people in Hollywood are always black like that guy in 'The Green Mile' or the Oracle in 'The Matrix' (obviously bar Harry Potter because the wizarding community is not so elitist). Where do I find these magi?

I could do with some help resurrecting the mouse that burnt to death in the explosion which distracted me from the good looking chap who I could have wooed with the vast Shakespeare quotes my English degree has forced me to absorb, across the road.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Wednesday 22 September 2010

Nel mio tempo libero mi piace scrivere

I don’t know where I came from
Those words were long lost
Now, instead of ‘kemcho’ I say ‘hello’ to my boss
The lines of communication
Were severed when I was young
My grandma shakes her head in disappointment
If only it was in Gujarati I had sung
The further I move
Away from my origins
The further I move
From an Indian kitchen
No shaak and rotli,
Just pasta and pie
No bhaat or puri
But pizza from the delivery guy
I don’t know where I came from
But I know where I am going
Studio l’inglese e l’italiano
Ma, Gujarati, non parlo

Friday 17 September 2010

Success

Evidently my earlier plans in maintaining a blog failed so I'm in no doubt they will fail again. Nevertheless it's nice to lie now and then..it makes you feel dangerous. Therefore:

I'm gonna blog.

Below is some crap that I wrote...probably whilst feeling hideous

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Yourself:

Take off your makeup with wet wipes you paid £4 for. They were on sale.

It’s stained with life-changing waterproof mascara (£20), man-alluring eye shadow (£15), mineral face-smothering foundation (£20) and all the nonsense you’re another insecure sucker for. Total for a new face: £55

...And that’s excluding the makeup utensils you utilised in making a man want to utilise you.

You get loyalty points though - This changes everything. This makes it okay.

Strip off from the body-shaping garms and rip away the names a kid sewed on for the thousandth time - which you pay to advertise

Cut the acrylic talons and stare at your misshapen cuticles

Has the world ended?

De-jangle those bangles

Go blind but let us see the natural colour of your eyes!

Wash out the plastic from your hair and shades that don’t belong to you but the woman on the box

Hide from the sun (unless it’s to play the games you’ve long forgotten...Hopscotch!) and tell skin cancer to find some other fool

You’ve adopted an image. It’s so engrained you can’t even trace where from, when...why?

What made you hate this perfect body that is testament to all that has been (your parents, their parents, their parent’s parents) and all that may be (when you’re a parent)?

Embrace the fat, there’s more to hug.

Embrace the frizz and scars because character is rare these days.

It’s all very well for Christina Aguilera to tell us we’re beautiful when she looks like that. Shut up, what do you know?

Not me though. Each and every one of you is more beautiful when your beauty belongs to you and not a twisty-top bottle.

Look in the mirror, wearing only what came free.

When was the last time you saw yourself in yourself look so cheap, and yet so rich?

You’re priceless.

My gift to you is yourself back.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic