Exodus

The epistles of crap that stream out through the university proxy server would have eased out a bit, ever since boredom and what is now defined as JAVA-Torture (A.K.A. being assigned to build multiplayer games in Java) started eating into my days. That never for a moment meant that I had forgotten those dear ones on paradise isle or that I had given up my hobby which is boring others to death with long letters… I was rather fed up with the pain of thinking fond thoughts of home and longing to be reunited with family and friends because such a day seemed too far away. It was a matter of “if your arm hurts – then cut it off” sort of thing.

Now my heart is awaking yet again with the rising sun of hope and promise that I will see the shores of paradise in a few weeks. I try to lull it to sleep again – fearing that another disappointment might put it to sleep forever, but the resilient stubborn thing refuses to give up. My heart has resumed hostilities with my mind yet again, this time accusing the mind of making secret visits to paradise isle in my dreams at night – all the while my heart has been eternally imprisoned inside the ribcage. I know the poor thing has a point, but I have so far refused to take sides on the matter. The last thing I want at this stage is to make an enemy of my mind – who else could count on to wade me through this bog of Java and Game Programming? Surely the heart is pathetic useless in that department! (Oops! I hope I didn’t shout it out too loud for my heart to hear…)

Anyway, getting back to the point of epistles, I fear the worst. I think the worst of our fears have befallen us. Let me put it this way. When was the last time someone wrote a letter to you that was had more than… say… ten sentences? Maybe ten thousand years ago? (No you couldn’t have lived that long in the first place… there’s only one person I know who is so old-fashioned that she could have actually lived so long ago!)

My theory is that there has been a mass exodus of people from the Internet back to the real world. I am not sure whether that is a good thing or not… most blogs and websites (including my very own) and even most email addresses are turning out to be relics from our past (nearly ten of those whome I mailed this to had 'permenent errors' in their email addresses) than mirrors of our Internet presence…

Songs in exile

Home is where the heart is
And of course the place where the family biz,
With its bustle and hiss
And all those other things I miss
Exists, mix and lives
Where aunts and uncles, cousins, nephews and nieces meet…
To eat
Drink, laugh and share stories sweet

Home is where I need to fly
To walk through woods, climb mountains high
Sing a thousand songs and dance till I die
Under the stars at night to lie
And make a wish as one shoots by
I return home to those I love, silently, in a dream at night
The sight
Brings me hope and strength to fight

Home is where the wind blows
Over the still lake and the river flows
Through the valley floors
Around the mountain that soars
Majestically, and the full moon glows
And casts its hollow light on the still waters on a silent lake
I awake
To go through hell for heaven’s sake

View from the bottom

The view from top always seems better… you see more and far, you breathe less carbon dioxide and you are within reach of more ‘things’. When you are at the top… or close to it, others inevitably look up to you - literally or metaphorically as the case may be – and most people who are at the top tend to look down at those below them (little knowing sometimes that the people at the bottom may have a clear view of what’s up their pants or skirts. I don’t mean that in a vulgar sense, but it’s just that people at the bottom usually see all the dirt on the shoes of those who are at the top.)

The view from the bottom seems limited – always boring, often bleak and meaningless, sometimes hopeless – which motivates them to climb higher in pursuit of a better view at the top and more oxygen. People at the bottom, look up to those above them - sometimes with envy.

The bottom is not always the hell hole it is made out to look. It is perhaps the most insightful place to be… the place where you meet the real people behind the multitude of faces you see on the road… the place where you learn to appreciate the difference between genuine and cosmetic smiles and find the essence of unbinding and unconditional love; because when you are at the bottom, those above you do not have to put on a smile for you or bother to go out of their way to be nice to you. You are at the bottom of the food chain, the bottom of the pecking order, the bottom of the social heirachy... The University of Real Life however is at the bottom, from which you could graduate with the broadest appreciation of life and how you want to live it and how to treat others who are above you and below. After you have learned that, it may not matter anymore whether you reach the top or not.

Miserable musings

“Been sometime since you blogged…” said Assh. Somebody had noticed my absence from among the living… someone actually took the time to inquire… what a poignant gesture! I was touched. It’s been a while since I felt that people took notice of what I did or didn’t do. I mean, it’s not a bad thing to be insignificant and invisible in society – actually it can be a lot of fun – but it is not something many can live with for too long.

No… hold it… don’t just head for the “Next blog >>” button just yet. I do have a point… err… sort of…

See, for the past one and a half years, I have been living in which is officially; the most liveable city in the world. Of course those over-paid UN observers who made that claim weren’t “international students” but it is not hard to see why Melbourne is a wonderful and very accommodating city.

But there is a limit as to how ‘accommodating’ any place could be. I’ve been here just too long… I have almost forgotten what it felt like for people I meet almost everyday to recognize me as their son… brother… cousin, nephew or friend – and that is not a good thing. I am surrounded by terrestrial beings that are nevertheless alien as those who star in “Battlestar Galectica” or “3rd Rock from the Sun”.

This is not a story of alien abduction, but rather about social ties. We are social beings… at least we Sri Lankans are. We live in clans… our lives are weaved into a strong mesh of family and friends – whether we like it or not. We can’t survive without knowing all the intricate details and intimate secrets about our neighbours and interfering with the lives of all those who are unfortunate enough to be interfering with ours. I don’t quite know what I am going on about… maybe it’s the one thing I’ve been shouting out for months now… I WANNA COME HOME!!!!!