New Year Resolutions and Other Scourges of Life

One of the inevitable nuisances (apart from that one loner who gets a bit too friendly with the champagne) when attending any sort of domestic new year's celebration is the danger of being confronted with the 'resolution round'. You know, the one where the host cuts through the mild euphoria you finally manage to work up when you realize it is no longer too soon to be leaving the party; and announces, with a simper, that it is time for everyone to embarrass him/herself by revealing his/her insecurities in the form of resolutions.

For years, I was stuck with this banal routine; and could find no way out without injuring sentiments. And as luck would have it, no one else could, either. A collective groan would ensue after the announcement, but no one would protest. And the host was always conveniently too drunk to notice the air of discomfort.

My problem with the whole thing wasn't just the whole 'personal and none of your business' aspect. It was also that it was another one of those events that conveyed the message that positive thinking and the like were to be limited to certain days of the year. All this, apart from the fact that I ceased to make these idiotic resolutions years ago to avoid setting myself up for unrealistic expectations. What are we, school age children? We can't improve our lives without having to blabber it all over town, or whenever it is most convenient to us?

So, every year, I'd frantically search for a valid reason not to participate, but in vain. Without backup, I merely came across as the party-pooper. Not this year; however, as I have completely lucked out: an article, on the BBC no less, on how resolutions actually caused more harm than good.

The party crowd being of the disposition to buy anything printed on a media giant, I just might be spared. Good one, BBC; thank you for saving me about half a day's worth of ranting.

Best of '08

I'm probably not the first to pick this theme for a post, and definitely won't be the last, but for want of better things to do, here I am, chronicling what I think should have been newspaper headlines for this memorable year:- ( Any resemblance to 'The Onion' is purely coincidental.)

1. In a worldwide contest to see which country's athletes hide their use of enhancement drugs best, an American and a Jamaican break records on water and land, respectively.

2. Banks play a few rounds of 'Na-na-na-na-Boo-boo' with their patrons.

3. A black man shouting for change finally gets some.

4. Dubya's secret powers exposed: estimating shoe sizes from a distance .

There's more, but I'm afraid I've already exhausted my quota of 'bad taste'. (Will save the more gritty ones for after the appropriate time has passed.)

What's so bleedin' merry about it?!

Generally speaking, I'm a sucker for those so-called 'festive' atmospheres the media and other dregs of human life tend to conjure up every now and then. Yes, I was aware of being played around like a puppet by those subliminal messages assuring everyone that any feeling of goodwill, or even cheer, for that matter, were limited to such occasions as Xmas; but I couldn't help myself...the sweet sounds of carols; the aroma of cinnamon and cider; the feel of the crisp chill in the air; the lights in the neighborhood; and prepare yourself for the ultimate cringe-Bing Crosby's saccharin crooning  on Xmas morning, accompanied by a burning log. On tv-combined, they all worked like a bunch of barbiturates on me.

I stopped and thought about this a bit the other day; and wondered why it was so. Perhaps it was because Xmas was still somewhat new to me; the whole celebration being limited to a religious observation where I grew up.  Upon moving here and learning more about the association of the winter solstice, and how the latter explained the customs better, I wanted to experience it all on my own. The tree, presents, eggnog, figgy puddin'; the whole 9 yards. For years, however, the season was spent recuperating from grueling study sessions and exams; not to mention living on student stipends; and then there were those self-imposed exiles to different countries in the name of expatriate experience. 

Now, I have the time and resources, but I can't help asking myself what I could possibly find merry about the whole rigmarole of writing out cards with trite messages and giving mass-produced presents out of obligation; or worse,  about listening to some crooner going on about frightful weather. Who the hell told him to go to the UK?!

Last year was a different story. I underwent every single cliche of the season, and I found that it was good enough for a lifetime. Besides, this year, I'm entitled to a little bit of moping-the pater's ill, the office shut down, and I can't seem to find the mojo to write much any more. As far as I know, I'm slipping under some warm covers with a nice bottle of Shiraz or some such and letting the whole damn season pass. Merry whatever.

Cross Bearers

Is it just me, or is there really a disproportionate number of people who are willing to completely skirt around logic, or worse, have no qualms about their blatant hypocrisy?

What's with the outburst, you ask? Well, a discussion about gaping disparities from the religious side during arguments between them and atheists brought to mind an experience of my own:

It was a regular Monday morning at the elementary school I was teaching in a few years ago; but one of my 3rd graders, a boy I'll call Nazir, was in tears and whimpering. It took me a few minutes to coax it out of him, but he eventually confides that his mum had been cross with him over a comic book his classmate had lent him for the weekend. First, I feared the worst: this might be one of those 'awkward' subjects, but then I asked him if I could see the comic all the same. It turned out to be a copy of Amar Chitra Katha, a series of Hindu mythology/legends & folk tales of India in comic form. This particular one happened to be about the life of the god Krishna.

Apparently, his mum had been very angry that an attempt had been made to indoctrinate him on an 'infidel religion'; how dare this classmate (never mind that she is also 8 years old)! She had said something akin to his bringing 'garbage into the house' and how she'd make him sleep with the dog if he did that again.

I was shocked at her rage; she had always struck me as a very progressive woman-she had shared with me how she had not wasted a moment in divorcing her abusive husband, something still frowned upon in her conservative Muslim society. I couldn't fathom how this graceful woman (who had once gone out of her way to express secular ideals at a PTA meeting) could even take it that way.

Over the day, she called me herself to make sure that Nazir 'didn't get brainwashed by any Christians or Hindus' and wished me a good afternoon before I could get a word in. I was left simply speechless.

The whole experience had been so jarring; I strongly wished to unburden myself. Later that evening, I shared the day's events at the family dinner table, and the family was duly shocked. Even though they'd always been devout in their religious beliefs, and meticulous with their ritual & tradition, they'd struck me as the more broad-minded, tolerant kind. I was to learn that the qualities hardly went with each other.
Hoping to make another contemplative, and yet, friendly discussion out of it, I began, "In this day and age, I can't believe the.....", but I was cut short by an outraged shriek: "How dare she say such things about Hinduism! But I'm not surprised-like she would ever comprehend the beauty of Hindu philosophy, which makes no distinction between different gods and religions; after all, we say that there are many paths to the Supreme."

I was aware of three faces looking at me for response, but I was too preoccupied with a stark memory of this same person, over two decades ago, telling me that I wasn't allowed to sing 'Christian songs' (they were Christmas carols, which, as a 4th grader, I'd found terribly addictive) indoors because they were 'inauspicious noises and brought negative energy into the house'.

I rest my case.

"Jonestown", you bigots? Really?

It never ceases to amaze me when the bigoted media resorts to its dirty tricks to sully a good man's name, but this latest attempt is quite the humdinger.

Before I get into that, however, I'd like to set the scene; give an idea of the sort of conniving schemes these pawns of the Republican politicians get upto. During the Presidential Election campaigns, reporters of a certain media monster would go upto the reddest of necks down south, and deliberately word their questions such 'So what do you think (or to that effect) of Hussein Obama?'; to subconsiously raise the strong hatred they've harbored for the namesake; thanks to the bungling antics of a fool president (for one).

And their latest? In continuing with their harboring sour grapes; they've taken to even lower means of making Obama out to be something he's not. In the most recent attempt, they've raked up a 30-year old event, which was so horrifying it still manages to torment: Jonestown.

(For those of you in the dark, 'Jonestown' was a community in Guyana; that existed from the 1950s to 1978. Community, of course, is a loose term here; 'Jonestown' was actually a cult, headed and run by a serious American nutter named Jim Jones. Not only did he manage to convince his followers that they were better off associating with the communist ideologies of N. Korea or the Soviet, but he was able to create a panic solid enough to sell his Doomsday conspiracies. His last move was to have 900-odd (900, folks!) people commit mass suicide by drinking Kool Aid or some such laced with potassium cyanide (this included children, infants, the elderly-no one was left behind). All this, through talk of 'freedom', 'the promised land' and other such longed for entities.)

For whatever reason, Jonestown has been circulating on the media lately, and the louts have been zoning in on some specific bits of the bilge this Jones spewed. I wasn't shocked by the all-too common memorialization of murderers, but I was stunned to read this comment on a related article in the prominent local newspaper:
" 'Jones was known as a charismatic preacher who dazzled followers of the Peoples Temple with promises of racial equality and a socialist utopia.' Sound Familiar?"

Once again, the bigots at the media had managed to raise a parallel between an obvious violator of human rights and a decent, honest man with genuine morals. A considerable number of words come to mind to describe this travesty: unconscionable; outrageous; preposterous; appalling; unreasonable; and JUST PLAIN WRONG.

And what is with this need to disparage socialistic ideals? Is caring for the welfare & rights of the underprivileged so wrong? If I have it right, the Declaration of Independence, the marvelous Gettysburg address; why, the very spirit of the American Constitution communicate the high ideals of socialism.

Despite the shock, I am not falling for it. America has shown that it does have its head on its shoulders, after all (for the most part, at least), and I have immense faith in the changes to come. So put that in your pipes and smoke it, bigots.

Milestones

What a tumultuous week it's been. First, an experience with whiplash & morphine; then exercising my right to vote for the very first bloody time, anywhere; and an election that lasted tediously long and ended in a break-through. It was an indescribable moment; realizing that America hadn't lost all its marbles after all; that a modicum of common sense still prevailed. This, in addition to the tremendous feeling of relief that the reins of running the country were no longer in some idiot's hands, and great anticipation for getting things mended and fixed and whatnot. (Well, this latter feeling lasted a lot less longer, thanks to those nagging questions of 'when'? 'how'?, and worse, 'really? let's see.'). Nevertheless, it was a jubilant day indeed, and I might have (literally) drank up all the joy had it not been for this wretched injury.

Soon afterwards, however, the excitement died, for two reasons. One, the whole world focusing on Obama's success 'despite being a black man'-as though he wasn't basically entitled to it just because of his skin color. True, that was what this bigoted nation has been conveying over the years; despite historic movements for equality; but I didn't see the need to dwell on that aspect at all. How about; 'this is a great day in history indeed, because, for once, we have elected someone with sensible ideals and the national spirit to put them to action' instead? And for what it's worth, Obama is only half-black. So why not dwell on his non-black half, if you had to dwell on ethnicity?

The second reason is a bit more intense. The whole Prop 8 nonsense, that is. (If any of you is unaware of what that is, it's a Proposition brought about by the State of California to ban marriages between same sex couples.) And unfortunately for the thousands of such couples who were wedded earlier this year (after a hard won triumph over their rights), the biased have won, and as it stands, all of their marriages will be annulled.

My question to these discriminators is, what is the big f***ing deal?! Where has it been carved in stone that marriage is defined as union only between man and woman? Don't tell me the Bible, because that book is full of discrepancies that Christians have failed to explain (although they'd never admit it) and isn't worth taking seriously. Marriage should be defined as union between those who seek companionship, commitment and love. If two people are capable of that, and are serious about the commitment part especially, then why cannot they be married?

And for those who argue that same sex couples already have civil unions and should be satisfied with that, are you unaware that even if they may not care for the label of 'marriage', specifically, the government requires that farce of a tag for them to be eligible to adopt children together or worse, don't have equal opportunity to sponsor someone from another country on a spousal visa?
Furthermore, that 'sanctity of marriage' bilge you all spew? Are you even aware of the gaping incongruity? If there were such a thing, why is there divorce? Or 'open marriages'? Or for that matter, 'marriages of convenience'?
And last but not least, what gives you the right to decide? Does simply being part of the majority make you 'normal', and the others 'abnormal'? In that case, what about vegetarians? Are they all 'anomalies' too, since most people are meat-eaters?

It is terribly disheartening indeed, to see that in this day and age, and in particular, in California (a long-deemed liberal, modernist state), that such a statement of blatant discrimination has taken root. For the sake of those who deserve to love and to express it solely because anyone and everyone IS entitled to do so, let us hope America can do better. Soon.

Total Pain in the Neck

So; it's finally happened. I have actually experienced a 'real' injury that justified a trip (or two, to be precise) to the ER; as opposed to simply getting my paranoia over my sinuses gone crazy sorted out.

It all began with a regular Wednesday evening session at the gym. I like to think that these trips have become commonplace enough to be referred to as 'regular', but the truth remains stolidly different. However, we won't be playing the violin to that tune today.

So, yes. I was at the gym, patiently waiting for my turn at one of those stationary wonders, and was soon rewarded with one. As everyone else, I quickened my pace and covered the distance before any other vulture swooped down, and stepped onto it in a quick little jig of victory. What happened next can only be done justice in technicolor & slow motion-it hadn't been turned off by the previous occupant, and I hadn't bothered to notice, so in less than two seconds, I was thrown off and went flying across the foot and a half between these machines and the row of exercise bikes behind.

I suppose it was too much to expect everyone to be courteous enough to turn the blasted things off when they were done. But then, I was fool enough to assume they would. The rest of that evening wasn't very eventful, really. A bit of a shock, huger amounts of embarrassment, and a staunch decision to give all the occupants some time to erase the scene from their minds. Oh, and of course, a nice big shiner-on my thigh.

Of course, I should have known, that was barely the beginning. Come Thursday, I developed a neck-ache, which slowly morphed into a stiffness,and finally, whiplash. I put off taking it seriously enough until past midnight; but after that, I was screaming for someone to 'please decapitate me and chop my left arm off' because their combined weights were causing such excruciating pain to my neck. Not exactly the sort of horror I had in mind for setting off the Halloween spirit, but there you have it.

Once again, the reels rolled in slow motion-a rush to the ER, X-rays, an instant heavy duty oral dosage of pain killers, and back home, but only for me to cry out again. So the session started all over again-only this time, I made sure to get morphine in, and in enough doses to knock an elephant out.

It's been hours since, and the pain lets up momentarily with the combined effects of ice-packs, heat-wraps, anti-inflammatory & pain-killing drugs; but it's going to be a while till I can grace the likes of a gym. In fact, what gym?! I'm looking at lying on my back for another week (can't even sleep on my side), and then sitting down gingerly with a few hundred breaks in between.

Oh joy. There was, however, a bright side-I probably lost far more calories flying off the bloody treadmill than from all the 'cardio' I've been doing on it. (How's that for a Silver Lining?)

Now where's that Valium?