actuality.log

Yesterday:

Today:

More spam is a good thing^TM. That will be all.

I had imagined today’s post to be pleasantly different. It was supposed to be amusing, and induce an ‘awww’ at the same time. But since I couldn’t think of anything of the sort, you will have to live with some poor quality scans of extremely old pictures.

I saw Stage Beauty, and it was funny, sweet, and involves gender bending! Which reminded me of aforementioned poor quality scans of old pictures. Here is a picture of my then-cross-dressing brother (no, not sister, brother) when he was a few years old.

And yes, he (no, not she) was a normal kid at most times.

So probably, feeling shafted for being born a male is a genetically inherited trait. And laugh, it’s supposed to be funny.

– It turns out that the hole in my ear, though not visible, could be felt. After a lot of general probing in the area, some (moderately painful) poking around, and no blood spillage later, I’ve got my earring on again, with help. Apparently, women magically know this sort of thing, and men are disadvantaged so in the real world.

– It’s vaguely interesting (and entertaining) talking to people when they aren’t entirely sober. For instance, potentially useful information like who’s a lesbian and who isn’t can be gleaned without trying. What would one do with such info? I don’t quite know for sure, but the words “narrowing the field” come to mind.

– Seriously now, how is one supposed to honestly answer questions like – “What’d your parents think of you dating someone from a different culture?”? I mean, I have no problems with answering the question. It’s just, at that moment I am reading into what is actually being asked. What would you think is really going on when a woman from a different part of the world asks you how your parents would take it if you were dating a woman from a different part of the world? Then again, she could just be genuinely curious.

– And this is annoying, please stop. One more time someone tells me “Hey, that Indian chick is cute, you ought to …”, I am going to throw something at them. Listen to me carefully, I am only going to say this once. Just because someone is of Indian origin and of opposite sex doesn’t mean I have to like her. (Actually, I ought to have inserted something more strongly worded there, for effect. But you get the idea, back off.)

My mom has frizzy and curly hair which she’s sort of artificially conditioned to appear straight and manageable. My dad has straight, arbitrarily long-growable hair which just happens to be extremely weak and brittle. Due to the marvels of genetics, I get the pleasure of enjoying hair that’s weak, and frizzy. As in, I lose it at an alarming rate, and while I do have what I have left, it is unmanageable and extremely painful to work with. Yipee. Now I could follow this stream of thought that will go about to mock the chicken scientists (not scientists who work on chickens, scientists who are chicken) who don’t think it’s right for humans to play god and mess with an unborn child’s genes. You know, “moral values” and all, but I won’t. That is not the purpose of today’s update.

I digress, obviously.

I just wanted to let the world know beforehand (as in warning you so you don’t freak out when it happens) that I plan to get my hair cut. As in, really. I don’t mean some sort of 0.72 cm trim, a real cut. Why? No, it’s not some sudden change of heart regarding the pseudo-bohemian-rugged image the current locks pull off. I happened to come across this group that makes wigs (from real hair) for cancer patients who’ve lost their hair to chemotherapy. And I think that’s one hell of a worthy cause.

It is obvious they need it more than I do.

As is blatantly obvious to even the most casual observer of my life, my life is very boring. It’s uneventful in the sort of way that I usually like it to be.

Now before I go any further, in order to put the following in perspective, I just want to say — music is a big part of my life. And I’m not just saying that in the sort of way most people do — in that they really don’t mean what they’re saying. I repeat, music is a big part of my life. I’ve spent over half my life learning and performing, both vocals and, to a lesser extent, multiple instruments. I’ve spent the other half being an informed, knowledgeable and highly critical aficionado of certain very specific kinds of music.

Moving on, I am a big fan of one Manchester band in particular, Oasis. Again, I am not just saying I am a big fan. I own, listen and enjoy everything they’ve ever released — albums, singles, recordings of live performances, compilations … . I also have a ton of unreleased stuff — such as unofficial recording bootlegs from the time the band used to play in small bars. Anywho, as a further sort of “mindless drone” mark of my “true fandom” (and to be reasonably informed of Oasis related news), I signed up a long time ago on their website to be on their mailing list.

Occasionally, I’d get the odd e-mail from that source about totally arbitrary things, like their site has been redesigned and what not. I bore through stuff like that, and a few days ago, I got a very spam looking e-mail bearing the subject “OASIS UK SUMMER TOUR 2005 — EXCLUSIVE PRE SALE OFFER !”. My gut reaction to all caps subjects is to delete, but I decided to open this. And lo and behold, it’s the band’s summer UK performance schedule, complete with instructions on how to buy tickets early, so you’d actually get them. Since I was no where near the UK, I forwarded it to a friend who’s recently moved there. In a sort of “at least someone gets to use this cool chance” way. He mails back all excited, and within a little while, something amounting to “if you can make it I’ll get you a ticket too” was said to me. Of course, I hadn’t payed careful attention to the exact dates and figured the event was sometime sooner, like next weekend. So I got all sarcastic and basically said of course I can’t make it. And 30 seconds later, I read it again. It said summer, it said July.

I now own tickets to an Oasis concert. In July. In Manchester. And I plan to make it.

Now the important message in all of this is — this sort of thing would be one of the most crazy things I’ve ever thought of doing in my life. More importantly, pulling it off would mean my life is just that little bit less uneventful. I’m all giggly-giddy teenager like at the prospect.

WoW.

And oh my goodness. Related hilarity!