ring a ding ding

escape boring/unwanted conversations by using ring4freedom. you give a computer command and they call you back and you can pretend to have an important conversation.

but what happens once the pretend conversation is over? wouldnt you have to go back? and

what if you dont have a computer in reach?

still, i like it. if it's not crazy enough to work, at least it's crazy enough to make me laugh.

(ps. you must see all of them!!!)

on photo fags and life

i never told anyone what i think about (some) photographers, but i will do so now. my opinion has no scientific back-up, but it has a logic that convinced me. and even less than that was reason enough to write about stuff in a very confident manner.

since photography is an art, that theoretically makes photographers artists. and that's completely wrong. there, i said it. i think photographers should not consider themselves artists. at least not all of them. at least not nowadays.

i know what you might say: her camera broke so the grapes turned sour. first of all, grapes don't turn sour because of cameras and, second of all - no, no! i feel photographers can call themselves artists if they have other (verified) means of creative expression as well. if all they do is peek through a visor and wait and wait for the right shot or even click incessantly (maybe something cool will come out - like i do) - all that on their super amazing cameras then what they are is lucky bastards with a lot of patience and advanced technology.
yes. even a panda can do it.

and a question that has been bugging me is why are there so many famous photographers and no famous camera men? it's the same thing. the squinting, the peeking through a visor, the sitting/standing behind a large lens, the usage of technology etc. ok, its almost the same thing. so why?!

the whole post could've just started from meeting too many self-absorbed talentless people who need to cover it. sometimes you have to cover it, or else you're a pervert, but in this case, let it show. :)

why are girls so strange?

(click to view the entire strip)

actually, i dont care. just wanted to share TheDogHouseDiaries with you.

and then i though it would be fun to see what google has to say:



so most people are curious why girls are mean. why?

how printeresting!

Dont know if its true, but it seems that the quarter of the century (my own) is the right time to get business cards printed. And ever since i read Breakfast at Tiffany's i dreamt of having a business card that said "wanderer", just like Holly Golightly. Back then, the rationale was that if my card would say that i'd be having all these great adventures. Right now i'm doing it sort of to celebrate the ingenuity of the older days.

So i made the design, pretty much (and unintentionally) inspired by Up! which i recently saw (in 3D) and loved. next step was printing. In case you didnt know, I live in New Delhi. And if you do know Delhi for sure you know Nehru place, the ultimate piracy place. Well, besides that, Nehru place is one place in Delhi where i never thought i would go by myself. Ever. But i'm there, i find Amit's printing joint, a place easy to get to, guided by orange spit marks on the walls. I go in, say i want my business cards printed, "ek minut" is their reply. After five (or more) of those, a guy who speaks some english comes and takes my memory stick. i show him the file, i tell him i want it in 200x200 size, he is saying things to me in hindi. I really hope its about the business card, but by the giggles around i'm afraid it might not be. He prints the first A3 page and i am stunned - he has printed 17 by 24 cards on one A3 sheet. that means a lot of nano-cards, 1,5x1,5 cm. i try to reason and my argument is "i actually need to use them". he understands and i'm grateful, he goes back to his desk, does some measurement with his ruler and figures out the right size, prints again, right size this time, the colors all smudged, i dont even mind, i just want to get it over with.

then, while going to the basement to get them cut, guided by similar orange spit marks, i dont even know i'm in for the biggest surprise of all. they cut all those manually, by the way, there is this job, of being a cutter boy, its along the lines of all jobs that end in "boy". so he cuts, tries to rip me off by asking for 25 rupees for cutting one A3 sheet, i give him 20 cause i simply cant explain i know i'm being ripped off since he doesnt speak english and i also ask him to tear them apart and put them in a bundle. and now the surprise: they're stickers. my business cards are stickers.

Wish i could have kept the super small ones. So now, with 40 stickers, maybe i'll start a blog mini promotion campaign. on rickshaws!

In conclusion, next time I'll stick to what works. I promise.

my birthday wish

i met coco in 2006. in AIESEC. i was a stressed out vice president talent management, he was an enthusiastic new member. he joined my department and when i became president he was part of my team as vice president marketing. coco was the cherry on top of our team, he changed moods, he knew how to talk to people, and with words pretty much failing me right now all i can say is that he is someone i feel proud and happy and humble for knowing.

right now, coco is really sick and though i feel like constantly saying it's not fair, i know i have to do something else. he is, beyond everything, my friend. and because of absolutely selfish reasons i want him to have a chance to live because he does it with passion, with excitement, with enthusiasm for the simple beauties of it.

my birthday wish is for coco to get well.

please go to: http://www.constantin-botezatu.net/ and for once give away the future of what you sooo badly wanted to buy for the future of a real, warm, incredibly positive and plain awesome human being!

not all dogs go to india

there's this strange mix in india, extremely confusing for the average foreigner like me, of spiritual vs. materialistic. i always thought, from my eclectic pre-experience of indian culture, that it is a very spiritual one. however, factoring in the importance social status has here (let wikipedia tell you more), things might appear as being more materialistic. whereas i am still a firm believer that they're not.

but take dogs. the only dogs i see on the streets, or better yet the only dogs on a leash that i see on the streets or in people's houses, are toilet paper dog and vodafone india dog. both famous tv dogs, both incredibly cute (like most dogs are).

and you'd think they'd like to be seen walking one of those on the streets of their colony, but i always, always, alwaaaays see them accompanied by what seems to be house helpers. so why get them? why? why? why????

but then i thought, maybe cuteness or the desire to be associated with it(which is nothing close to being a spiritual value) doesnt even have to do with why they're so popular. these dogs are popular because they are popular. its not about their looks, it's about what they represent because of media, and it's about what you represent because of what they represent. plus, they're quite expensive, which, in the quick viewfinder, puts you even higher up on the social scale.

truth is, i'm just jealous cause i really want to have a dog. any dog. preferably a fox terrier that i would not compare to the other one i had, a fox terrier like montmorency, the one in "three men in a boat (not to mention the dog)" by jerome k. jerome.

is this only a desperate cry for hound?

the trivial sublime

i dont know how to write a personal truth as big as this without the fear of making it sound trivial.



there is nothing better in the world than being able to be 100% yourself in the company of someone. there is, actually: being 100% comfortable with being 100% yourself in the company of someone. dont think i could ask for more. maybe hot water.

runner's high

i grew up being taught that you, your doings and creations, should fit within some known (and, most importantly, widely accepted) standards. norms. limits. everything must have a name, a rational explanation, a style, a color, a famous relative, an origin or an end. someone once asked the world "what's in a name?", but understanding the point of the answer required knowledge of botanic.

i grew up being taught all that because of a strange, rigid system, and yet i grew up learning that whatever you feel and think is right is the best thing to do (and i am mostly referring to means of expressing yourself).

i wish i could thank all those people who made me learn.
and i wish i'll dance the way i feel like dancing more, looking silly, but without fears of looking silly.



(i just had this crazy thought that i should start bedroom dancing, a dance dance competition where people dance the way they would dance in their bedroom, when no one would be watching. winners would be determined by measuring the endorphin release at the end of the dance. the whole point would be breaking free, of course.)

left and out

i remember last time i had this feeling i was in a summer camp with my aunt. she was a teacher. i was the most unpopular kid. no it's not true. some boy crapped his pants on the bus once and another girl was sucking her finger. wait, that girl was me. but i was doing it only before going to bed, in secret. that couldnt be the reason but it leaves the boy as the most unpopular kid, which still puts me in a not so bad position, not the worst, at least. that's when i last had this feeling. i dont like this feeling.

it's not a nice feeling. but it's not the worst.

spread your bread

not even in my world of daily maggi cup noodles lunches would i ever think of the alternative of making spread sandwiches.

i guess i'm just not the type of person who makes and/or eats spread sandwiches. plus, i dont know if the name is coined, but it's damn stupid.

good day!

i'm telling you, right now, right now, stop waiting around for other people and do what you want to do.

(some people might talk to themselves, i prefer writing)

modern tragedy

as my first attempt to be publicly artistic was blown to smithereens after my lafraise contest submissions were not accepted, i am debating a quiet retirement from the t-shirt design business vs. some naughty perseverance and learning how to draw. results out within a week.

here they are, my oddly shaped creations, hanging lively on my blog, not even aware of what happened. let them stay happy. for i will be sad.

(1,2 and 3 were made for this contest that had as topic "the ark - endangered species" )


When the tide was high the giraphants went playing hide and seek. Bad timing, cause although very tall, giraphants are bad at playing hide and seek outside the ark. Too bad, they would have made great over-sized pets.

The only giraphant who didn't go play hide and seek was a bit stark. He is famous for being an avid reader and having created his own arc, not as famous as Noah's, though.

Stay fit. When you're 600 years old someone may ask you to do something really big.

easy peasy

paragliding this weekend, in manali, gave me a grand new perspective over things. i needed one badly, too. just like robin williams says, climbing his desk in dead poets society, he's doing it to constantly remind himself you have to look at things in different ways.

it wasnt so much the actual perspective, it was a more inward process. ok, basically, i was scared out of my wits before doing it. i wanted to scream "i doooont want to do it" several times. i mean it. i think i even did a few times. i wanted to plead for my life and for sure, if tears came out, we would have gone back or at least my descent would have happened by the jeep that took us up in the first place and not hanging from a piece of cloth with an indian guy on my back.

even though i didnt want to do it more than i wanted to do it, i did it. i felt like if i face this fear i face every fear i have and some sort of magic mechanism would trigger. and it did. i feel braver, stronger, more independent... all these things that india took away a little bit in my first month here. i call it magic because i think its an amazing thing, you can give it some name from psychology and be boring.

i'll be that too, actually, and continue to rant about my big realization. ok? ok. ok. ok thank you. ok. ooookkkkk, thank you. i was thinking (but not over-thinking) about how everything around can be very complex, complicated, impossible for us to do or, on the other hand, just plain worth trying to do, even if you might fail. its all about how you look at it. from now on, officially, i go with the latter one. i realized i was telling myself and the world "live in the moment, do what feels right, stop worrying about everything, go with the flow" and while the world might have been listening, i know for sure i wasnt, what i was doing was complicating things, over-analyzing and, in the end, filling up my head with a truckload of un-useful information (improperly called information, more accurately described as speculation).

so here's to simple things, like love. or genetics. or life. :>

that's amore?!

how the hell is the moon hitting the sky (even like a bit pizza pie) love?

why i need a new wallet

i found out why they call it f bar. the whole fashion tv thing is just a good cover up. they call it f bar because you get effed.

and you also get midget like people with "so called girlfriends" offering to buy you drinks, and that's probably in the expectation of a different kind of effing, later, once the guys at the bar are done effing your wallet and the "so called girlfriend" found a taller guy to hang out with.

so to avoid choosing if you should undergo effing no. 1 (as presented in the first paragraph) or effing no. 2 (as presented in the second paragraph) you might as well avoid going there completely, because this kind of choosing would have moral implications that you might not be ready for.

plus, nirvana house remixes of smells like teen spirit require quite a few drinks to accept, so the effing of your wallet will be an actual rape.

last, and probably least, i would like to thank f bar for the opportunity to glance inside their hubbub club and amuse myself for a while, until my wallet got raped.

p.s. also, i am starting a petition for changing the name from f bar to bar f, as it gives a personal touch to the cold, huge place they have over there. it just fits so much better! bar f! bar f! bar f! ;)

am i wild wild wild why?

my 60 rupees phone charger measures time. every second the little red light, reassuring in it's own silly way (that it is indeed charging your phone and you will not be alone for up to 5 hours of talking time) flickers. i stared at it as to say "i'm wondering why you do that". got no response. everything around me measures time: my cup of tea getting cold, a smoke in the sun, the little bells on my anklet. but in the end i blame my hasty perception, hasty in ways that have nothing to do with time, but with a greedy 'do everything' weltanschauung.

and then i go back to what hit me two-three days ago before i went to sleep. i'll call it letzu's mime-time illusory perception: time feels like it is the one thing we dont have at all, yet the only thing we have, really. it could also be a paradox, but why bother? why i go back to it, i dont know. maybe it's a personal form of time travel.

about what is and isnt cool on saturdays (part 1)

top pick of what isnt cool to do on a saturday: have a full day at work when your stuff is done.

even the horoscope could feel it:"The world may appear to challenge and oppose your dreams and ideals. Harsh reality may seem to ridicule you, and this could come through another person. You will have to hang onto your dreams and uphold your self-image in this rather rough weather."

i think we all know who that "another person" is.

(hint?)

fraction of the action

after my first no-helmet-motorcyle ride came the first take-a-rickshaw-alone ride. and if i had written this post right after it, i'd kindly ask you to come back later as i'd have nothing to say. it was a calm, peaceful and short trip. well, calm and peaceful needs to be put in the context of "delhi traffic", but it's still great.


so since i'm writing it now, after an action-packed day, the feeling that there's too much to unpack is back, but i'll have a go at it. this time with bullet points:

• helmet theft led my colleague to carry an extra helmet (!!) which probably (not) made me the first woman to wear a helmet on a bike in india
• got a strange rash on my hand so i went to the pharmacy and this big, wwf-looking (the wrestling, not environment) guy who happened to be the chemist tells me its either allergy or something really bad
• i spend the following two hours in utter panic, in a disfigured state of mind
• finally going to the doctor to find out its not at all that bad, it's a skin infection from the water and food, haha, sharade you are, will be off non-veg and chili stuff for a while. :( doctor's orders.
  
• of course, other sources claim it to be a spider bite, which you will know of, in case you hear of this super girl saving the day dressed like a spider on the streets of delhi
  
• dreaming of escalating buildings in a hero like fashion, i went back to work to experience a one hour long blackout. i mean power cut, blackout sounds too dramatic. when power gets cut at work the only things left on are 2 neon lights, a fan and my colleague's computer. today this didnt bother me at all cause i got to read up on gaja gamini, husain's movie. fascinating stuff, will capitalize on powers cuts every chance i get.
• too soon after the power came back we had to go back to jamia millia, where the exhibition and events for husain's 94th birthday were happening. it was amazing, i feel i learned so much these past two days and finally got my break through the glass window of the indian world. it's only allowing me to peek, but it's a very revealing peek. ;)
• i wanted to stay for the big iftar that was supposed to happen at the event, just cause it would have been another debut, but i didnt, since my rickshaw turns into a pumpkin after sunset, so i skedaddled home. and i even got there, after insistently telling the driver to take a right while showing him the left.
  
• boohockey, bullet points didnt help me be more concise. they're fired!

truth is all these things i've been through today gave me a sense of security. self-security. or call it confidence, but i'd still be calling it security. the feeling that i, alone, can handle stuff, can make it through etc etc. its quite reassuring. i needed it as much as i need comic books when i'm ill.

p.s. thanks, philosoraptor. you rock beyond the cretaceous!

give head(s) a chance

had my first (motor)bike ride today, courtesy of my co-worker. when there was no helmet for me i froze for a second and then he told me: its' ok, women dont wear helmets in india. so that should have made me comfortable. well, it didnt.

anyway, had a nice day helping set up an exhibition in honour of the 94th birthday of the picasso of india, mf husain, living in exile. i pretty much like my work.

for the rest of the day, i had lots of water, paan and thoughts of how the 17th of september was also the birthday of my dog.

touché

touching is a big thing. and i don't mean just from my new indian perspective. you can go as back as to the creation of adam (if you're into art or religion) or to the big bang, as the finishing touch of the beginning. however, my touching up on the subject of touching will be purely from the newly acquired indian perspective.
while i was on the train (not any train, but the mumbai local!!!!) with tabs' mom, in our very own ladies compartment, i found myself saying a lot of stupid things, as i generally do when i'm with adults i'd like to impress. to my surprise, the remark "i have not seen any couples holding hands since i've been here" rushed out of my mouth into her ear to provoke a smirk and a sympathy look that said "bet your bottom dollar that you wont". and i havent. not once. in my 2 and something weeks in india. what i have seen is lots and lots of men holding hands and i thought to myself "wow, never thought gay people would be so open here". and i thought wrong, because apparently holding hands is something men who are good friends or relatives do.
so, whereas boy and girl in love will probably not hold hands in public, boy and boy in friendship will. and to the ordinary folks, like me, who think if you dig long enough you'll reach china, this is truly a reverse taboo.

but the thing that touched me off was the walking from the rickshaw to the jama masjid mosque (the largest mosque in india), through this extremely crowded street market. so crowded that at times you simply couldnt take a step in any direction. the unbearable crowd gave way to people finding it natural and/or easy to put their hands on you. it resembled that thing you do when you're a kid when you say something and then you have to touch red to make it the ultimate truth, but only here they touch white. touch, grab, or whatever comes in hand. ;)

while at the jama masjid mosque, sitting on the ground with 7-8 more interns, we noticed that quickly a group of people began to form around us, all standing and staring. not any kind of staring, not the timid, glimpse kind of staring, but the intense, non-blinking, intimidating staring. so as i got uncomfortable quite quickly i stood up and started walking back and forth, in this silly attempt to not get eyes fixed on me.
then a little girl all smiles, holding her little brother by his shirt comes up to me and asks me, giggling, "can i touch you?". she's waiting for my answer and she shies away, hiding behind her brother whom she pushes and shoves, he's giggling too, all red in the face. they're really funny but then it strikes me: i've heard "can i touch you before?", in sentences flooded with sarcasm, but her words are honest, clear, no double entendre. i am hit by some kind of hippie haze so i tell her "but why? i'm just like you." she gives me a look, a look that makes her eyes even bigger, pulls her brother by the shirt and runs away.

psycho babble or no psycho babble, we're not the same. we're all as different as it gets and i have falsely pretended to have accepted that long back.

well anyway, india 1 - letzu 0
touché, pussycat!