famished for meaning

Library lends out people

A library in Holland is lending out people, as well as books, in a new initiative aimed at challenging stereotypes.

People can borrow gay people, gipsies and Muslims for an hour and talk to them about their lives, reports Nu.nl.

Jan Krol, director of the public library, in Almelo, said one of his assistants came up with the idea.

He added: “It’s a good way to challenge stereotypes. Clients can lend out a Muslim woman in a head scarf and ask her the questions they wouldn’t dare to if they met on the street.”

The library has contacted ten people from different backgrounds who are willing to have a chat with library visitors in a pub near the library.

such measures really make me wonder about the kind of world we’re living in…especially since even to me, it actually doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea.

for some reason, this reminds me of “the whore of mensa“, a short story by woody allen. if you’ve read it, you’d remember that men used to buy time with “prostitutes” who could stimulate them mentally.

well, in a way, now you CAN rent out people who will stimulate you mentally, by telling you about their experiences and lives and thereby, perhaps ridding you of your biases and broadening your views.

like i said, that’s just fucking weird.

and perhaps much needed.

p.s: i had to change the title for the post from “fucking weird” to just weird because my stupid service provider BLOCKED the page, because the word “fucking” was in the url.

bastards.

the days leading up to my birthday were horrible. everyone around me was acting retarded and suspicious. i was convinced that i would end up having the worst one ever - yes, even worse than last year when the psycho ex girlfriend of the boy i was dating turned up at his house at 4 a.m. and broke everything in his house!

i was thinking about just sitting at home and sleeping it off but i wasn’t allowed to. one of my friends sent me this e-mail after i whined about how i did not want to do anything, about how i wanted to be left alone:

yes, whether you like it or not, kicking and screaming, you have to be dragged through the whole getting older thing. Actually let me remind you why we celebrate. Yes i have to bring in the apes, jungle, genetics…i know you love the arguments. Its to celebrate the fact that you have managed to reach a luscious delectable age of 27, escaped natural calamities, typhoons and stuff, dreadful wild animals ( i don’t mean the male variety of our species) who might have had you for dinner…or in your case should i say a snack. So fuck the typical response of ‘oh my gawd i want to be a pre-pubescent with a pea for a brain’ and go out and have fun. Celebrate!!

i love this girl!

so anyway, the boyfriend knew that i wasn’t interested in going to a stupid club and being surrounded by strangers so he threw a surprise party for me - which wasn’t such a big surprise because everyone had been acting SO weird that day that i knew something was up. but it was BRILLIANT because a lot of friends were there and the boy took care of every single detail, down to the kinda music i like, my favourite cake, the helium balloons, confetti, alcohol and FIREWORKS!!

unfuckingbelievable.

and the next day, i was treated to flowers, lunch, a massage at some place and a spa treatment!

and the day AFTER, when i had thought that it was all over, he gave me my gift:

an iPod!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and a playboy bunny mug:)!

i am completely impressed by the boyfriend who has by now more than made up for his suspicious and retarded behaviour of last week (which i could not have dealt with, without the extremely wise kristie’s advice - thanks, babe).

however, the boy has some major competition because i am falling in love with the iPod…although i actually had SO much trouble installing it and getting it to work that i am actually NOT that impressed with my first experience with an apple product (sorry baron, i know you’re a mac man).

plus, i got a TON of wishes from everyone i know in my city, everyone from back home and everyone online!!

so basically, i’d say that this has to be the best birthday EVER - turning 27 and becoming a budhee* isn’t so bad when you’re surrounded by such awesome people and so much love!

*old woman

i read a fantastic book (the kite runner) over the weekend…i actually had to skip work on saturday, because i didn’t sleep till seven in the morning - it was one of those books that i couldn’t put down.

immediately after, i looked up reviews of it online. i was slightly depressed to read the criticism, a lot of which was admittedly well-deserved: “contrived”, “implausible plot turns”, “cliched”, “whiny, pathetic hero”, etc. and of course, the timing - shortly on the heels of the war on afghanistan, a touching story about an afghani boy is told. charming.

i still loved it though.

there are few things comparable to being absorbed completely in someone else’s world, via visuals or words. selfishly, it helps us forget or mimizes our problems, for the problems worthy of being communicated through film and books are often far bigger than a bad hair day or a job one hates.

the book revolved around two childhood friends and one’s desperation to earn his father’s love and approval. he was willing to go to any length for it, and he did. and he got what he wanted but it didn’t feel as good as it should have, because of the cost he paid for it.

i think almost everyone can relate to wanting to make the parents feel proud, happy and make them love us.

i think i am still doing it.

i realized, with quite a shock last night, that almost all of my desire to settle down had to do with the look i imagined on my parents faces, on hearing the news. while quite unlike most paki parents, they haven’t paired me off with someone yet, nor tried to arrange any marriage, i know that it is right there…they want to see their kids ’settled’ before the end of their lives. and while i don’t really want to marry, nor believe that it could last forever (for me), sometimes, i know that i would do it, simply to please them.

so much in my life revolves around pleasing them…

i am still living with them, primarily because of that hurt look i’ll get if i tell them i am moving out.

i have started to chase huge commissions and paychecks, only to ensure that my parents never have to worry about money, as they grow older. i want to see them taking vacations, buying their dream cars and house, playing golf and enjoying their years, not having to worry about a thing.

almost all my focus, as i grow older, is on making them happy. and it is not in a self-sacrifical, noble, holier than thou way. it’s just in a laid back, ‘i am doing this because i want to, because they deserve it’ kinda way.

i want to be the best daughter…i have their love and affection and the thought of losing it terrifies me.

i suppose that’s why i could relate to the little boy in the book, who did quite a horrible thing, just because his fathers love was more important to him, than anything else in the world.

i question myself often though…am i just hiding behind my parents and their goals? i even wonder whether i will end up hating them for the amount of influence they unknowingly exert on each decision of mine.

may be in a couple of decades, i will regret all that i did, but for now, it just feels right.

*********************

also, on another note, i haven’t been posting much because i am suffering from the “shit, i am growing a year older” blues. the big day is only three days away and i’m depressed…i was supposed to be in amsterdam or anywhere else. however, obviously, due to my laziness and that of those who were supposed to accompany me, it never panned out. and i am stuck with the same superficial crew that i don’t really want to be with, but HAVE to invite. i wish my blog/virtual friends, who feel more real than the real life friends i have, were here…

if i write in the next few days, it is ONLY going to be to whine excessively, like a li’l bitch.

consider yourself warned.

Gasp!! I sat there in shock. And as the gravity of what had just happened became clearer, the shock turned to grief. The gasps turned into wailing. It couldn’t be. Life was not supposed to be this way. How could Amitabh get killed. He was ‘Muqaddar ka Sikandar’. He was the hero. Heroes don’t die. They always win. What would become of the world now that the savior lay dead. I would never get to meet him now. I was inconsolable. I was still in grieving next day in class 1C. During recess a cheeky bastard said Amitabh was just an actor and he was a fake. I kicked his ass. Sorry, Abdul Kareem Ice Cream (It was funny then). That incident earned a call to mom.

She concocted this whole story about Amitabh faking his death to trick the badies. This made some sense. But I needed solid proof. Mom had lied about the tooth fairy last year. That friday dad grabbed another pirated bollywood movie. Sure enough there was super cop. Talking smack and kicking ass. The world was going to be okay afterall. Faith was restored. Mom wasn’t such a big liar. For weeks after that I would sing ‘Rotay hoay aate hein sab’ while riding my bicycle to and from school. I would stand on the pedals, Hands off handles, Doing lazy Ss, the works. Good Times.

But dont let that story leave you with an impression of life bollywooded. Movies were a special occasion. To be enjoyed by the whole family. Once a month, maybe. And they were sources of material for the obligatory entertainment routines. We weren’t allowed in the drawing room with guests. Lest we embarrass our parents with our manners and gluttony. But at a certain point during the evening we would be entered to perform our tableau and earn our treats before being sent of to bed. I had a repertoire of numbers down pat. A good entertainer keeps his material fresh and is always ready for an encore. I specially liked doing “Aega Shehri Babu, tum dil pe rakho qabu”. Another favourite was “Jaanoo meri Jaan, Mein tere Qurbaan” and I would cheekily subsitute Pakistan for Hindustan in the next line to even greater applause.

Somehow, we managed to remain cute and not be the “prepubescent little dorks”, that rocky mentioned in her comments a couple of posts ago. We even grew up to be abnormally honest, sincere, even innocent. In later years, we saw a lot more movies and TV, even stuff we wish we hadn’t seen. We were raised by our parents though, and that seems to have been the dominating factor. I really believe children mirror the adults around, not just in words and actions but also in attitudes.

(guest post courtesy of the artist formerly known as alibhai)

i hadn’t heard about the dove ad campaign nor come across it until yesterday. i went to amy’s site, who said that she started some shit on justin’s site because she got pissed off by what she read.

he was picking on fat women.

actually no, thats not fair. he said:

“Real beauty = Being a chunky fat woman?”

as expected, his audience, which consists mainly of horny boys drooling over nipple slips and teenage celebrities, went wild with it and slammed the campaign because they did not want fat women splashed all over the billboards and TV screens.

you know what? fair enough.

although i don’t think those women are fat at all, i really couldn’t be arsed about the opinions of justin and his band of horny boys.

however, i decided to write about it after loki left a link to it in the comments.

i kept going back to the website and reading their tagline:

“real women have real curves”

and i kept getting more pissed off.

because you know what?

some woman have curves. some women don’t. some women are fat while some are thin.

they are ALL real women.

i’m a size 4 - i don’t have the curves that a size 12 woman does.

am i less real? is it my turn to feel ashamed about my body? is that what we are going to do now? are we going to start a “fat is phat” or “fat is the new pink”campaign?

i am sure that there are a lot of skinny women out there feeling pissed off and offended because they don’t have curves and are, at least according to dove, not ‘real women’.

i think its a great idea to use women of different sizes in an ad campaign. it’s good to encourage acceptance of all sizes. it’s brilliant that they are talking about ‘real beauty’.

but it’s not okay to do it at the cost of alienating the skinny lot.

and don’t tell me that they won’t do that. all the comments on different sites, forums or blogs now have a “thank god we’re being shown real women, not those skinny coke head freaks” feel to them.

this guy said (in defense of the campaign):

They are average, normal American women….

These women tend to be the ones who write cute love notes on the waxed paper that wraps your PB&J, my friend. They are usually not coke-snorting freaks with a warped sense of reality–where fake tits, must-have “help” or nannies, and a carrot-only diet is the way to go. Model-like women are really the abnormal ones. Rarely do normal, bring-home-to-mom model-types exist. Trust us.

so skinny chick = freak or bitch or less loving?

thanks a lot!

and i love how the marketing department of dove is pretending they’re geniuses that have discovered something new, by saying:

“It is our belief that beauty comes in different shapes, sizes and ages,” said Philippe Harousseau, Dove’s marketing director on the “Campaign for Real Beauty.”

no shit, sherlock.

“Our mission is to make more women feel beautiful every day by broadening the definition of beauty.”

or coming up with one that celebrates curves, thereby excluding non-curvy women, which in any case does not happen to be the target market, since you ARE selling an intensive firming lotion to the curvaceous lot. oooh, did i forget to mention that priceless bit of information?

yep, real women have REAL curves but they still need to be firmer.

bottom line? weight does not define how ‘real’ you are and has nothing to do with your beauty. i applaud the effort but i HATE the tagline.

and the underwear.

i mean, who the fuck wears white cotton underpants?!

i don’t know if any of you have come across this one yet:

drink ads ordered to use ugly men!

Drinks companies have been ordered to use uglier men in their advertising campaigns.The Advertising Standards Authority believes “balding” and “paunchy” men would be less likely to encourage women to drink to achieve social success.The new advertising code stresses that links must not be made between alcohol and seduction.

A campaign for popular sparkling drink Lambrini has become the first to fall foul of the new rules.

The Authority objected to a poster which showed three women “hooking” a slim, young man in a parody of a fairground game.

The industry regulator instructed the firm: “We would advise that the man in the picture should be unattractive - ie overweight, middle-aged, balding etc.

ridiculous, isn’t it?

first of all, ‘ugly’ is a horrible word (when used to describe the way someone looks). secondly, to then bracket someone who is MIDDLE AGED (since when did age have anything to do with looks??? and isn’t brad pitt over forty?) or overweight or balding as that is even worse!

this is so goddamn hypocritical - for as long as i can remember, beer ads (aimed at men) have been showing hot women. in fact, almost all advertising aimed at men shows a chick with big tits, long legs, big hair, red nails and mouth, going ga-ga over the man for using that particular brand. and you know, its all good since it’s just a woman, and she was always meant to be decorative anyway.

but now that we’re objectifying MEN and using the hotter ones in ads, to encourage women to do (bad, bad) things like drinking beer (i find their faith in the power of advertising quite misplaced, to begin with), it’s suddenly all wrong.

i can’t believe they are allowed to get away with this crap.

however, on the plus side, based on their stupid qualifications for ugly, my dad (and most of the adult male population) can finally star in a commercial!