rationalist, me!

people think i am a rationalist. so do i. and i guess i am. but still unrational fears creep into me time and again. i am a strong believer of the evil eye. i believe a person's envy (not jealousy, mind you) is far more dangerous than her action or words. why do i say her? because women probably will hold back their tongue and actions, and so channel all their envy into the evil eye. so they are a far more formidable opponent.
i believe that people's discontent can rub off on you. and i do seriously believe grouchy friends should either be converted or dropped. you can stick it out and be a friend for as long as it takes. but if the friendship is meant only for need, then chuck it.
and now, one more from the repertoire of the rationalists. i am psyching myself into believing even number years are not so great for me. i am fool. this i know. so often i have willed myself into making things better... so what is it with even numbered years? i guess, i have found far too much idle time in the last few days and have found little to keep me occupied, so i come with this mad calculations.
but a voice inside me whispers, are you sure you are just being stupid? that there is no grain of truth in it?
i am not sure, oh, no, i am not sure.
and rationalism or insanity? not sure about that either.

Bad apples keep turning up

This is what I have realised. Bad relationships always come back to haunt you. You can never really put it behind you and forget. You will learn to probably look at it objectively and will realise that it wasnt really as grave as it felt then, at that moment.
I have worked in three organisations for long stretches of time.
I had one bad work-relationship at the first job. However, there was no venom, just a clash of personalities. If I were to meet him today, I can be cordial with him.
But I havent been lucky at the two after that. At my second workplace there was this absolute bitch -- she had this whole load of personal baggage, and was convinced that no one liked her, and she assumed that was because of how great she was, and how people could not digest that.
Well first of all, most people were indifferent to her, and those who didnt like her, had a good reason to -- and it had nothing to do with her talents either!!!
And those who liked her, did as a favour to her family who were rather likeable.
She continues to haunt me.
And then the ex-boss in this place was a snake -- and his parents had wisely named him so too!!
To add to the woes, he neither had the skills that the bitch could boast off, or the pleasantness that most human beings show at some point in their life.
He haunts me too.
How you may ask? They haunt me because they are petty people. Not because they are evil. They are petty and can't digest another's happiness or success. The first guy -- he was ok. He was ambitious. And as long as he was getting his due, he didnt mind others doing well.
But these two were different. No amount of personal success satisfies them; happiness? They kill it for themselves.
They scare me. My worst nightmare is their ire, that I may have to interact with them again in the future, that destiny has inexplicable plans and their role in my life may not be completely finished. They scare me.

little miss logic

ok, how do i answer her?

Me (31): Stop talking non-stop
Oviya (4): Then why do I have a mouth?
***
Me: No, I am not buying you any of those toys
Oviya: All mummies buy for their childrens (sic).
Me: No they don't
Oviya:Then why are they selling it?
***
Oviya: (pointing to a poster of sexy Arab singer Nancy Ajram) You don't want to be like her?
Me: No, I am happy the way I am
Oviya: You want to be fat?
Me: Yes, it is nice to be fat. And you like it when I hug you, because of all that fat.
Oviya: oh ok, it's nice to be fat
Spotting the next big lady, and loud enough for her to hear it --
Oviya: That aunty is also fat and nice is it?
***
Now you know why kids get hit by their parents!

Back from Beirut

this is my problem. i start off something without assessing if i had enough time for what i have committed to earlier. so overload. and that's the reason the blog has been ignored.
not that it matters really!
but while i was away, i was doing something far more interesting.
at Beirut.
ok -- first impression of Lebanon -- ASSHOLES!!
The immigration guys apparently are not used to too many Indian tourists. Sri Lankan maids yes. But Indian tourists -- no! And they seemed a tad insulted that one of us would actually dare to come to their country for leisure.
So i fight, tell them I was there on the Tourism Ministry's invitation to write about their bombed out country, and if they had a problem, I will go back.
With that first impression I entered the City. Well, since it couldnt have gotten worse, it got better.
met some officials and realised that Bureaucrats were Bureaucrats and they all went to the same Global school for Jerks and Megalos.
Despite them, Lebanon is a beautiful place to visit. And everyone -- I mean everyone -- is in a party mood 24x7.
Went to this Moulin Rouge-ish night club called Musichall. And one of the performers was this vibrant 84 year old woman, singing and swaying well past midnight. Some folks have real hep grandmas.
One note: if you are particular about how your smell, then get ready for a huge laundry bell. People smoke everywhere, all the time. so your clothes always have that lingering smell of second handing smoking. not too pleasant.
What is really freaky about Beirut is the bombed buildings, with bullet-holed walls, that still stand next to newer Hariri-built constructions. Some of these ruins are still occupied.
But one thing I should give these Lebanese, they have grit. They've been running and hiding from bullets and bombs, but nothing keeps them down.
They dont care if they have nothing to eat, and hold to stay in -- they all look ready to take on the Milan ramps.
Appearances to them is all that matters.
Here is an instance -- a Lebanese colleague here in Doha was complaining of severe stomach pain. she said she would go to the doc after salary day. but the next day she landed at work with one of those fancy manicure jobs, with gel nails and all. which cost her about $50.
She laughed an explanation: People dont know i have stomach pain, but they will know i have bad finger nails.

privacy

ok, since ive quite a few people know about this blog, where do i go with my darkest secrets?
another blog...