So this is Christmas

Or at least a bit after Christmas…

And what have I done?

Surely one of the most turbulent years of my life...

Lost one of the most important people in my life, one of the central pillars of my existence. And I am wandering in the darkness a bit as a result.

Learnt what it was like to be an adult, to really deal with stuff when the shit hits the fan.

Was one of the top Associates at my company, managed to garner a perfect review, a promotion and a decent pay increase.

Got to know the boys well, very well and regain my sanity a bit.

Made a couple of new, absolutely awesome friends.

Got the photo studio business running but lost steam halfway through.

Partook in far too many mind altering substances.

Went to the edge of the abyss many a time but managed to claw my way back.

Found out exactly how far I could push myself and not break.

Applied for my citizenship.

Learnt to breathe under water and became a PADI certified diver.

Went to a rave or two...or three.

And last night had my heart crushed...

What will 2009 hold? There is of course no real way to know but I hope a lot of healing, a lot of diving, a relaunch of the studio, a big move back home and a lot of good times with the family and friends that make my life worth living. Maybe you can’t have some things that at the moment seem so important in life, but I am grateful for what I have.

A happy new year to everyone out there on the world wide web. Stay safe.

Five Free

Yes, yes this is a random post…but I scored last night and I’m not really up to typing a lot. Unlike poor Darwin I am having a rather pleasant trip(s) so I decided in a fit of productivity to exercise the $5 free credit I received from Amazon MP3:

Longing, Fabric & Deepest Blue – Karsh Kale (I needed to complete Realize, a torrent that downloaded 99% but then mysteriously ceased…which for a OCD person like me has been a constant thorn in my side)

Realize – Cobie Callait (yes, an unashamedly mainstream pop song…but I keep hearin it on the radio and it’s quite catchy…also she’s pretty cute)

Broken – Lifehouse (another pop group…but I’ve always liked their stuff. In deference to the economic meltdown I thought I would buy the song instead of the entire album.)

There…another post…if slightly boring and possibly incoherent…more to hopefully come………

Insomnia

3 am - Wide awake...tick tock...tick tock....mind racing despite innumerable Advil PMs....perfect time for sleep

3 pm - Task list includes preparing LLA application burden of proof and exhibits, contacting client and getting other applications moving in light of the small victory yesterday, preparing hearing presentation, project transfers, a hundred other million things.....state of mind = ready to pass out...

Why the fuck am I always so sleepy when I shouldn't be and not sleepy when I should be....

Trouble

I was thinking...probably the after-effect of a horrendous couple of days and the nervous anticipation of a long overdue vacation and a chocolate buzz...and an entertaining, if slightly odd conversation last weekend...

...You're in trouble if you can remember exactly what it felt like when she was last in your arms right? I'm pretty sure that means trouble...sigh....

...alcohol...drugs....where are you when I need you.

Oh well, at least I have another 12 hour day to look forward to tomorrow...

How not to inspire me

Email 1 - "Reminder to all employees that Labor Day is NOT a holiday for us"
Email 2 - "Please see above"
Email 3 - "CEO is taking Monday off"

Fuck me...as I sit here the phone has not rung once (well it did ring once but it was a automated marketing call). All my consultants are gone...I'm tired as fuck, my head hurts, everyone else is either asleep or relaxing at home. I (and some of my poor coworkers) are the only ones suffering this shit out. Fuck loyalty...I want out. I want to go home, fuck this place and all in it.

Eight more months to gird my loins and stick this bullshit out. Fuck.

Arrogance

It was an interesting conversation over the sushi, this question of arrogance. See the thing is I’ve been accused of this before, though one of the people who called me out was just yanking my chain in the great mating game. But I guess as I pointed out to the boys I (and we) are a bit arrogant, especially when it comes to associating with the expats in SoCal.

See I have this thing, I remember where I’m from. Just because it’s been almost nine (yes nine) years since I’ve left home I haven’t left any of that behind. I still dress the same, jeans, t-shirt, flip flops; you won’t see me in football jerseys and pants sagging around my ankles. I speak the same, no nasal American accent or posh tosh Brit accent. I detest the people who have been here for a month and speak like they have Paris Hilton stuck up their arses. I have been successful enough without having to compromise who I am.

So yes I guess I’m arrogant, but the funny thing is I’m not at the same time. I get along famously with similar souls who I’ve meet for the first time. I think I need the same irreverence that I have towards everything reflected in my friends, the absolute opposition to fakeness and insincerity and the ability to laugh at oneself.

This probably explains why I have so few (read none) American friends, while I had so many (and still have) British friends. The Americans take themselves too bloody seriously and combine that with my irreverence makes for a lot of bruised egos. Back to the subject, I guess my arrogance comes because when I see the qualities I so dislike in a bunch of people, I clam up, which can so often be interpreted as arrogance…when it’s actually disregard.

Those of you who know me, feel free to comment. I will bear no harsh feelings.

Late night phone calls

Maybe there is something to late night phone calls....for once that was nice. Perhaps the game is still on...I just wish December would hurry up and come along...for that final reach for the finish line.

The regretful robot

You know when P and S mentioned as an aside that after watching Stealth, they though they would pick Jessica Biel over Jessica Alba any day…I was understandably a bit taken aback. Granted they (I think) did not go through puberty with the wet dream of an equally pubescent Jessica Alba frolicking around in a bikini (I believe there was a cetacean involved somewhere in that equation) but still…Alba’s ass is one of the greatest gifts to mankind, right up there with fiber optics and liposuction. If you need any evidence ask me about the plot for Into the Blue. I swear I’ve seen it about 10 times but all I remember is a brown bikini.

Anywhoo….back to Stealth, OMFG…isn’t it the coolest film ever…like totally!? Whew…apologies for that, I think I’ve been in the Valley too much. But seriously, the movie hits all the right spots, explosions, blue bikini, planes, flyboys, blue bikini, exotic locales, guns, blue bikini, etc.

The high points were however as follows:

• A regretful robot – seriously Eddie is soooo much more 21^st Century than Hal ever was. He feels sorry; he has empathy for the thousands of people he condemned to death by radiation poisoning. If he had a female flying deep penetration unit to hang out with, he’d be asking to be held in the night…when the tears come. Like the rest of us 21^st Century males.
• A geography lesson – before Stealth I didn’t know where Tajikistan (omfg, I spelt that right the first time). I especially did not know where it was in relation to Alaska and North Korea. I mean most movies show you exotic locales, but how many films show you where they are. Bloody brilliant.
• A ladyboy – was it just me but did anyone else notice that the totally hot chick Jamie Foxx picked up at a Thai forest monastery (seriously, who knew that was a pick up joint) had an Adam’s apple? I think he got that page (btw the Navy lets them fly super futuristic jets but gives them pagers to get in touch? Really?) at just the right time.
• Jamie Foxx running into a mountain face – enough said.

I do have a few criticisms though, minor really but I feel I would be letting humanity down if I wasn’t totally honest with this review:

• Why the fuck did the North Korean dude shoot Jessica Biel? Seriously hot chick parachutes into your country you capture her alive and then possibly buy her a drink. You do not go poking holes in her. Could you not see that brilliant ass in your scope? Idiot.
• Why did Jessica Biel and Josh Lucas break into North Korea? I’m confused…see they ran towards the North Korean lines through a wasteland (which I assume was the DMZ) and then broke through the lines. Aided of course by a self sacrificing robot. Odd that.

But the key question that I have as a result of the movie is one that is going to provide me with a conundrum for some time to come. One that I would dearly love to solve first hand (weak pun).

Which ass to choose?

No Nudity Please

Not that I’m against nakedness you know. But generally when it’s a cute girl…or even sometimes a mediocre girl when I have a high BAC. Beggars can’t be choosers right? Naked, wrinkly, old men though are however not high on my list for nude spotting.

There I was in the gym kind of elated that I ran into the only cute girl from work at the gym and I would finally be able to judge how her ass looked and picked myself a locker. As I took my shirt off up rolled some clown, you know the usual middle aged yobo. Typically of most Americans he tried to engage me in some random small talk about the baseball game that was going on the screen in the locker room. Typically of me, I ignored him (I don’t even understand baseball), plugged into my earphones and bent over to put my shoes on.

I’m not sure how long I took to put on my shoes but when I looked up my balls retracted. The gentleman next to me had not only disrobed but appeared to be putting on something that looked like a cross between a jock strap, a BDSM device and a leather thong. All thoughts of the work girl’s ass fled, never to be thought again.

Along with my balls.

Perhaps a career as a tenor.

What to do when the Big One hits

Look disconcertedly up at the air duct vent and wonder why the air conditioning system got so loud.

Realize that it’s not in fact the air-conditioning system as everything’s shaking.

Feel a certain sense of déjà vu.

Get a bit worried since the shakings not stopping…

In fact it’s getting stronger.

Desperately try to remember what the advice was for a big shake up…under the desk or in the doorway. Try to recall the news article I saw in the gym exposing one of the two options as a fallacy.

Fuck…

Realize files on my head would not be pleasant.

Make a run for the door and stand uncertainly as the shaking thankfully stops.

5.4 on the Richter scale.

Send the obligatory text…”you boys all shook up?”

A Southern Californian Fairytale (Part 2)

Cough…cough...life interrupted....my sincere apologies for the delay.

Where was I?

Oh yeah…channeling Sir Mixalot, how did it go? “I like big butts and I cannot lie!”

Well to be fair I don’t really like big butts that much, but then after a BAC of 10% who was I to be picky.

To be honest I can’t remember the lines that I threw but suffice to say that she had my number and I had her email by the end of the dance with the promise of a studio shoot for her portfolio. That I didn’t have any experience doing a portfolio shoot or for that matter a studio was a slight issue, but then to be fair, like most strip club experiences (don’t ask) I expected nothing to come of it.

Some incredulousness from P, a dropped cigarette in the car and a hangover later all I could remember was something about a Lavish from the night before. So there I was staring rather blearily at a computer screen suffering the Monday blues when the phone buzzed.

Hmm….818 number…must be a consultant accidently calling my cell.

“Hello”

“Hi Honey, it’s Lavish”

To say that I was surprised was probably the understatement of the century.

Of course she wanted a photo shoot. Now the issue of not actually having a studio became a bit of a stickler.

A quick call to P and a trawl of the web brought up a host of DIY photography equipment. Suffice to say that all the boys inhaled enough PVC over the weekend to take at least a decade of our lives. A couple of all nighters, lots of sawing, pissed off neighbours and various hallucinogens later and we had a studio (and a knowledge of plumbing that will obviously stand us in good stead in the years to come).

All that was left was planning the actual shoot. For this we needed research…and it was research of the highest quality and very taxing on the mind. Poring though picture after picture of naked girls to figure out poses and lighting. Rather excitedly I shared with P the fact that I had come across the girl’s old portfolio and even more excitedly pointed out a pose to him.

“Now that would be stellar….just getting the pose might be a bit of an issue eh?” Said I.

So the big day rolled around. Lavish turned up and in the blink of an eye was naked. I believe I had to snap my fingers in front of P’s face to get his attention. Fair enough considering she got disrobed at light speed, before we could even suggest lingerie.

“No, I need naked shots”

“Ok then…”

Then it happened. The first test shots were brilliant, but then the dreaded event occurred. I know apparently it happens to everyone, but I’ve certainly never had an issue and I don’t think P has had either.

Equipment malfunction.

Of course if there’s one thing that inspires quick thinking it’s a naked girl. So some quick thinking and some jerry rigging and the shoot progressed. The work was snappy, the giant lightbox was beautiful. Then the big moment came. With a rather wild glint in his eye P mumbled he was going in. Now or never…this was the time to ask for the pose.

“You know you earlier portfolio had a cool shot, we want to repeat it. Could you erm….turn around and spread your ass?”

History was made and a Studio was born….

A Southern Californian Fairytale (part 1)

Alternatively known as the stripper, the softbox and the studio.

Well this is a fairytale in only the loosest of terms. To be honest I don’t think this will be something I can tell my kids in the future. Just a portion of it told to the girl got me about as much attitude as could be squashed into 15 minutes…not that the two above audiences are at all related….cough….cough…*glance around furtively*

Anyways, this was all CP’s fault. Her and her shoddy scheduling for her wedding. I mean who gets married in November?! The fact that R and I couldn’t make it and in fact could only be there on a TV screen pissed both of us off immeasurably. Probably pissed me off more since I actually had to drop her off at LAX. After hugging her goodbye I rolled over to the boys’ place…determined to drink till I dropped.

If CP was the base for this escapade, D was the catalyst. Appalled that PC and I were intent on drinking, getting thanakolafied and then watching Black Hawk Down, D insisted we instead go to the local Xposed, a fine establishment where ladies show off their athletic skills and make more and hour than I can ever hope to.

God knows how much rum and cokes later, there we were, PC, D, me and S (who had sadly forgotten his glasses) staring up at indistinct shapes, that we were pretty sure were women writhing around poles.

“Two for one deal gentlemen, two for one”

Always being one for a deal, this was not something I could pass up.
 

In the bad light and with my BAC somewhere near dangerous levels, I swear she looked like Rihanna.

 

“Dance honey?”

 

“Yeah…that’s a splendid idea!”

 

So off it was to the secluded couches for my two for one deal.

 

“Honey you can touch anything you want…but not my vagina”

 

As an icebreaker….this sentence left somewhat to be desired.

 

I processed this rather intriguing piece of advice…before dissolving in laughter.

 

She laughed as well…a bit uneasily.

 

“So do you watch porn?”

“I’m a guy, whatcha think?”

“You ever seen me?”

“I barely know what you look like right now”

“Eh?”

“Oh…no…no”

“Well keep an eye out for me, I’m called Lavish.”

At this stage the girl was doing this thing with her rather bountiful rear that introductions were the furthest thing from my mind...

*light bulb*

“Wait a minute, if you’re in porn, who does your photoshoots?”

To be continued…

Friday the 13th

3.30pm

Friday the 13, June 2008.

This time is always the worst. Waiting for the weekend to start. For that blessed relief of either thanakola and a movie, loose girls and house music. Whichever floats my boat these day, though recently of course it has been mostly the latter.

It's sort of like the last two hours of a flight. I always get cabin fever then. It's like I have the ague and it's all I can do not to resonate enough to scare the crap out of my fellow passengers. Is it me or have I lost my writing ability? Methinks its about time I crank out some funny shit on this blog, maybe the story of the stripper, the softbox and the studio. It's sort of like a Southern Californian fairytale with a princess with really weird boobs...not to mention wholly inappropriate photographic direction. Maybe I should write that up.

Or maybe I'll just get thanakolafied and watch Juno.

Endless Cycle

What? Really?! I can't fucking believe it. In a fit of nostalgia I checked out TLF to see how I was placed last year at this time. Imagine my surprise to read something I could have written this time around being none the wiser. I'm not sure whether to be bummed or somewhat comforted that at least this time around some things are better. There are a few normal people to hang out with (though I describe them as normal with some trepidation...hehe).

I also have a plan this time around. PhD application in the works for submittal in a couple of months. If that doesn't work out a PR application combined with a two year re-entry permit. If that fails another PhD application...if that fails...well there's always the bottle. It's somewhat of a plan, just requires pure survival for the next 10 months.

The similarities are eerie though, tragedy (though much, much more personal this time), unexpected plane rides, feelings that can't quite be extinguished no matter how much I try and push them into the back of my head. It's a bloody endless cycle of insanity and darkness. I feel broken, I'm not sure if I've felt this broken before but I know I feel broken. I want to lie down in a drugged up haze and sleep for six months. Wake up when the light at the end of the tunnel is flashing in my face. When the warm sun of home is rising, the greeny gold light and those brown eyes are in front of me. I feel broken.

Best in the house

You know as the ultimate love song I always liked the Smiths, There is a light that never goes out. With a lines like

And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine

how can one not think love this tune.

It's been unseated though, courtesy of a rather lucky torrent session.

The new favourite:

Death Cab for Cutie - I will follow you into the dark

If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

Lovin' it.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Deja Vu

I coulda sworn I've done this before? Though I can't believe its almost been a year ago...or is it been almost a year ago? Anyways since Scrump and RD (indirectly) tagged me, here goes:

NB: I'm not going to bother with the rules or tagging anybody else...discretion after all is the better part of valour, not to mention there's nobody left to tag.

1. I have trouble figuring out which is my gut and which is my head. Throw my heart in there and intuitively deciding anything becomes sort of like getting the answer 42. I'm not really sure how to fix this, but I think rolling the dice might help me figure it out.

2. I love Kandos superblende, love, love, love it.

3. I used to be a big drinker. I still am but in a different context. Whereas those days I'd be hammering the vodka/red bull or a screwdriver with Blavod and dancing on tables, nowadays I'm more likely to be found sipping (yes sipping) on Old Reserve or a good rum with a bunch of friends. I still haven't sunk to the level of scotch on the rocks, when I do I'll throw myself off a bridge (sorry P and D).

4. I love photography, especially nature and street work. I'm not so sure how I feel about selling out. Necessary evil I guess?

5. I've been in love twice. Once was puppy love (not literally...because that would be...well weird). The second time was very adult but ended in tears (again, not literally...because that would be...pants). This time I'm not sure if I am. Might be the 10,000 miles and the other hundred things on my mind that are clouding my rationality.

6. Related to 5, I don't like saying 'I love you' or 'I miss you.' I say both sets of three little words to important people in my life. But I've learnt the hard way that using those words two often breeds a contempt, a familiarity with words that are too powerful for general use. Those words should be treasured and brought out at unexpected moments to maintain their power (wow...deep eh?).

7. I really do want to save the world, or at least Sri Lanka...not in a single handed powerful way. But in my own small way. I also want to live happily in a nice house with a nice wife and two cute kids...not sure how compatible the two aims are....lets find out shall we?

That's it right? Lets do this again next year yes? Would be interesting to see where I stand then. Assuming I'm still standing.

Am I crazy?

So I want to do a PhD. I really, really want to do one.

Why? As I have been asked by the tortured graduate students that I count amongst my friends. Many a time.

Well...I'm sick of the private sector. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind business. In fact I have a couple of entrepreneurial things in the works as it is. The thing is that I'm tired of this empty life. Working for rich people, making already rich people richer. While the rest of the world starves. I mean lets be frank I work in fucking Malibu. I'm a sell out. I harp on about sustainable development in the developing world while enjoying what is frankly a comfortable first world life surrounded by ipods and streaming video.

So I'm going to roll the dice.

A long time ago (well just over a year ago) I gave myself a deadline to go home or at least start doing something I believe in. I thought I was going to be late on that deadline, but it actually looks like I'll be within the set time. For one thing I've decided to forget about getting a black coloured passport. As easy as that would make travelling (with the exception of the Middle East) I think I'm going to stick with my red one.

Crazy? Quite possibly. I'm giving up a chance others have killed for, played lotteries for, died alone and cold in the cargo holds of ships for. And I'm giving it up...on the whisper of a chance. Note that I am building a backdoor, escape hatch into my plan...but that is a last, last resort. As I told the boys this weekend, I'd rather die broken and penniless in Lanka than driving a 7 series and living in a million dollar home here. I think the backdoor is less for me than the family..to salve their worry that I have finally lost my mind. Mind you I think that door was chosen for me when I was 8 and decided I wanted the heat of Colombo over the toys in the City of Angels.

My hand's clenched around the dice right now. I need to complete two years out here to make sure my CV isn't complete pants...and that means 10 more months of back breaking, soul sucking work...but I think I can make it. I'm researching PhD's with a fervour, trying to remember everyone who works in my field in SL, saving.

I need my life to have reason, to have a purpose. Come April, I'm going to do everything I can to stack the odds in my favour and then roll.

And hope for sixes.

Chemical Dependency

I feel like I should have a motherfucking PhD in this...sorry...channeling Ari Gold there  a bit. But it is a Friday night, I'm at home, having guzzled a pizza and currently two thirds of a bottle of wine wishing I had some maryjane growing on my balcony for the pickings. In my defense I worked a hell of a week and I feel like I've been gangraped by a bunch of silverbacks (more Entourage references).

A fucking week of putting out fires and getting my head bitten off in the middle of it. Add to that a distinct lack of sleep, mental angst and other shit. That I need to get on seventh heaven in order to get to sleep is causing me some concern. Grape nectar is a poor second choice, for one thing it gives me a blinding fucking headache the next morning but what to do eh? Of course a night of alcoholism, some groping and maybe a bbbj might put me to sleep. But then there's the lack of mojo, the lack of energy and the issue of the girl (as much as a dead end that is right now).

I'm fucked...

But at least I'm high...

Five questions

So it was a day (a week actually) of putting out fires and getting my head bitten off in between. And I decided to do a quiz. One to do with one of my favourite TV shows. So there I sat while paper bombs blew up around my head and did the quiz, five simple questions and this is what was spit out:

You are "Eric 'E' Murphy"!

You straddle the line between pragmatic and hopeless romantic. Too smart for your own good, you make all the right choices at the cost of never taking any risks. You could have a lot of fun being single, but you'd rather settle down with that special someone. You don't put up with anything you don't need to, and you're the quickest wit among your friends. Possibly because one of your friends is Johnny Drama.

Really??

Five questions on a facebook quiz and I get pinned better than a bunch of kooky complicated personality quizzes, aptitude tests and random astrologers down Thimbirigasaya.

Bloody awesome....

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Space Trip

I had an odd experience many moons ago, in fact many many moons ago. Of course the experience was chemically induced and involved stars flying past my eyes at an ever increasing pace. All I needed was to let go and it felt like I would have been doing a Star Child trip for eternity. Trust me the temptation was scary, whether the trip would have ended with my head crashing into the bottle of OR that was on the table at Showboat was the one thing that dissuaded me from letting go.

What was even more odd was this morning. There was definitely no chemical inducement this time and it was a different medium. It was like a scene out of a psychedelic Blue Planet, a stereoscopic view of a dolphin streaking into the depths. There were even little fish fluttering away as I streaked through the water, or rather the water streaked past me. I am a bit concerned that my subconscious was able to conjure up something so vivid and realistic that early in the morning. It was interesting though and it was...with great reluctance...that I dragged myself back due to the presence of an early morning appointment. But some things can't be put off I guess. I'm definitely putting in an application to be a cetacean in my next birth.

A subway?!

Where the palm trees? Eh?

First things first, we have a subway here in LA?! Rather unsurprisingly it doesn’t go anywhere which kind of negates the point of a subway. I could go on and on about how much I miss public transport a la the Tube, but I did choose this hole for myself. So I shall continue to marinade in exhaust fumes, oil changes and high gas prices (or maybe not so high?) and deal with the fact that daydreaming while driving is a couple of magnitude times more dangerous than when sitting on a train or a bus.

Of course its hard to avoid when you’ve been driving the same route twice a day for the last 280 odd days not to lose focus on the road. And I’m quite convinced that is what is going to kill me, daydreaming on a familiar freeway when some idiot decides to take himself out of the gene pool. I’ve already had one close escape with an errant ladder, just hope the odds keep up with me.

Anyways I digress (old habits die hard). I’m not sure what’s annoying me more, the fact that we have a one route subway in LA or the fact that the BBC correspondent ends the article with:

“And, being stuck in traffic is, after all, that much easier when the roof is down, the palm trees are swaying gently and the sun is shining brightly in your face.”

Pray do tell David Willis, where the fuck are the palm trees on the 101/405 interchange?

Sleep

Or rather lack off...I'm tired, oh so tired. I used to love sleeping and never had any problem conking off for around 10 or 12 hours. But somewhere around 2005 my dormouse genes leaked out. I've tried a number of things:
alcohol - wake up even earlier than usual, generally feeling like Arnold did a Terminator on my head. Might have something to do with my choice of drinks, wine or red bull/vodka
mary jane - actually helps but I tend to get very slow in general, which is really not helpful since I usually need to be on my game....both with my regular job and my side work.
sleeping tablets - nice when mixed with wine, but chemical dependencies really aren't my thing.

What I'm left with isn't very helpful, meditation (boring) or reading a book before bed...which is something I guess I'm going to try. Of course there's always sex....but err....that does require a bit of legwork....and given my complicated (I think) situation, not really feasible. Then again, I might try that out soon, given that the ex used to do something that used to put me to bed like a babe...though she was rarely amused by the end result.

I'm back

Right, so I'm back. The retirement lasted all of a couple of months (if that). For me the confusion needs an outlet, the million things to do, the grey areas, the love lost, found, lost again, the arguments, the sweet nothings, the backstabbings, the sunrises, the sunsets all need an outlet.

So if you thought I was emo before...be warned...you might want to place a bucket by you now. This is going to be personal, very personal. And I'm going to (try) steer clear of Sri Lankan politics or any soapboxes...well try.

So whats on my plate?

- Career: trying for a new job, as fun as this is, I think I need to move away from small projects to big ones. Still trying to think of something intelligent to say on my resume.
- PhD: I want to start one in 2010, I have an idea, its a brilliant one. I just need to sell it to a supervisor. Which of course means writing a proposal.
- Australia: where I want to do my said PhD. Where they actually give holidays...gasp...shock...horror (incidentally the 5th happiest country in the world.)
- Funding: needed for the PhD...must get my thinking hat on
- Citizenship: the only reason I've stuck it here for this long. More paperwork and applications.
- Studio: getting a business up and running is no easy task.
- The Girl: deserves a post all of its own. Suffice to say this is going to be the cause of a lot of emo posts (I wouldn't want to disappoint my fans)

That's about it. Now why the change?

Lets just say what happened at home changed me, didn't make me feel like I deserved my moniker. I'm still trying to adjust to the changes, becoming the de-facto head of a family without any of the accompanying security was not easy. It's like I'm in a pressure cooker now...and it's coming to boil...I just hope this will help vent it.

TLF had served it's purpose and had to go.

shin, shin to change.