What would RTH do?

That is the question.

If I were in a highschool yearbook, they would vote me most likely to die of a lynch mob. That does not prevent me from opening my mouth and serving a warm hearty cup of STFU to people who deserve it. My dark scathing humor will leave no matter of existence untouched. My innocence will touch your soul.

Welcome to a warped world turned inside out and upside down. All sorts of discretion advised.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

More Poetry

Mehfil main yahan
Ishq ki ijjazat nahin
Dil dene ki tumhe himmat nahin
Dard lene ki hamein taqat nahin

Thursday, November 5, 2009

The Delicate Womanly Fine Arts



One of my most vivid school memories is of a day when our class monitor was tearing out his hair. A teacher was absent, which meant we had a free period. It is hard for a teacher to contain a group of teenagers, what is one teenage boy to do. As soon as the next teacher walked in he heaved a sigh of relief, wiped the cold sweat from his brow and exclaimed exasperatedly "Miss the girls are creating havoc in the class"

In a different time and a different place, the whole lot of us would be sent to a finishing school. A stern headmistress with her hair pulled in a tight bun, wearing gray drab outfits would, stalk the stonewalled hallways of a towering girls dormitory ensuring that every single girl is prim and proper and ladylike. We would learn to dress appropriately, walk and carry ourselves delicately, speak softly and sweetly, and eat food silently. Its a sad dull place. Although one thing you have to wonder, where in the world did the Catholic school girl stereotype and outfit come from. Surely men in this world have not been suddenly gifted with vivid and elaborate imaginations.

Thats not the point. The point here is such delicate fine arts are a thing of a past. In fact it is baffling when you see some old fashioned gentleman who is searching for a delicate flower to care for and water. Gone are the days when women would flutter and bat their eyelashes, make puppy dog faces, and bend over to show some skin.

I'm not sure which era they live in. It is indeed tragic to be caught in some sort of twisted time warp and not know which century it actually is. Its a whole new world out there. For example I played hockey and went to shop class. While some girls were learning to dance the flutter of the butterflies we as a team were wielding sticks, wearing studs, flexing the shoulder to thwack the ball real good, real hard. While some girls were cleaning their pretty pink outfits we were playing the dirt working up a sweat, till we were splattered patches of sweaty mud. While some girls were learning whatever delicate womanly fine arts there maybe we were sawing through bars of iron and making knives on the grinder from the broken blades.

Now some men may delude you into thinking that they get it off only on the fine arts, they will tell you that its no use being tough, and they like only pretty butterflies. Its all a lie. In your whole life did you see a guy catch colorful butterflies unless they were gay? Guys have always preferred the more wild creations. Its amazing how many men can line up to watch a girls hockey game, or how the mechanical and industrial engineering boys drool at the rare phenomenon of girls in their midst.

All the talk about strong women being intimidating is a myth. People are not intimidated by strong women. The plain and simple truth is, only those who have a reason to be insecure will feel insecure. An ordinary person will do nothing but appreciate and enjoy the qualities of their fellow humans.

Perhaps some people love all the fineries and refineries. For others there is a charm in the scruffier things. Like rugged carpenter jeans and tees, like boy shorts and flannel, like crawling out of bed and crawling into the car with no shower, like wearing the same jeans for a month, like combing your hair with your fingers, like following a sport with utmost passion, like shout outs, yos and hi fives instead of niceties, like eating cold pizza for breakfast and breakfast for dinner, like building a pyramid of pop cans by your couch, like never really making your bed, like acing at a game of beer pong and drinking the boys under the table, like burping out a song or laughing at a sick joke, like chowing on wings like a barbarian and fitting a hoagie in your mouth, like conversing with your mouth full and dribbling your condiments on your shirt. People are more comfortable with imperfection, its more personally connecting.

There is also this talk of an art called flirting. Last I heard that true artists rarely brag about their feats. I'm sure social skills require refined artistry, but I'm perturbed over human repellents peddling such arts. I'm not sure when the fine arts changed, but the last time I checked smart and funny people enjoy a good dose of sarcasm and love a sarcastic person. The last time I checked people love it when you can stab with the glint of an eye, its reassuring that they do not have to treat you with kid gloves. Silly girl laughter is a thing of the past, people take more joy in the mischievous eyes of a prankster. I think some people just do not like to believe in the fact that there are some people out there who can win over hearts with intellectual conversation, witty banter and some very confident ninja like moves.



Some of the arts of the masters are so interesting that sometimes I wonder if I should practice some. It would save me some of the odd situations I can sometimes find myself in. Like try and repel people for a change. Like try for people to actually find me creepy and set their distance, or find me too evil and disdainful that it triggers all their painful childhood memories. Thats an art I could find useful when I need to be left alone in my personal happy place. I think the so called artists could do well with learning the ways of a dork like me, for some odd reason it seems to have the affect they fail to achieve.

On a final note lets take Shane McCutcheon. Men who claim to excel at the manly arts should really rethink of it. Its Shane - men want to be her, Shane is the master. Whats Shane got that men don't? Why do girls fall for her? Why do they fantasize about her too? Somewhere down the line men and women lost a certain charm and chose to settle for the available alternative. The attractiveness of androgyny shows that there is no real one sided magic charm or arts. Its people being people that people love. Maybe thats an art to learn, being yourself, being an ordinary person.

Live Long and Prosper, Party like a Ninja!!!!!