THAT YOUR RÉSUMÉ? REALLY?

A couple of months ago, a guy on my work team quit, and I needed to quickly recruit a replacement. Not that that was a challenge in itself, but it did involve sifting through a number of CVs. Which again was not at all an unpleasant task, especially since I didn't have to wade through a bunch of meaningless profiles before I'd even scratch the surface, never mind about hitting gold. And so I plodded on.

Imagine you're putting together your résumé. Why in the world would you say that your hobbies and interests include surfing the Internet?! Okay, given that I'm writing on an online platform, and you're reading on one as well, dissing the Internet is not where I'm headed, of course. Again, surfing the Internet? Really? 

Or listening to music. What's so special about that? Not that extreme sports are all you're allowed to list on there, but again, listening to music? Really? 

Did you also say reading? The brightest answer I've ever gotten to that particular gem is: books. I kid you not, peeps. Books. Didn't assume you meant graffiti on restroom walls. Or the back of a soda can. So again, reading?

Then there was this one that casually mentioned 'watching TV'. 

I rest my case.

And oh - I did recruit the replacement, after all.

GIRL POWER!

Or not.

To talk girl power, do we really need reservation? Be it at the workplace, for academics, or even something as mundane as a seat on the bus/ train - is it really necessary? On the one hand, we don't want to be seen as the weaker sex, but on the other, we're only too happy to have these uhh, privileges extended to us. I really, really dunno about that.

Take chivalry too - while sweet (and possibly reminiscent of a bygone era), should we really crib if not much of it comes our way these days? Are we really that (physically) weak that we are unable to open our own doors/ get out of cars/ have a handle on our own bags of grocery? I admit I've grumbled on numerous occasions to the significant other about this myself, about how chivalry is dead because he walked in ahead of me, pushing open the door, into our favourite restaurant. But that doesn't take away from the fact that really, did he need to hold open the door for me in the first place, or pull out my chair? After all, don't we claim to be equal in all respects?

I know I'm probably inviting the wrath of the Gods and scores of women too, with this post, but it's my blog, and my (unapologetic) view. I'm not sure I wanna be offered a seat unless I'm waddling onto a bus, carrying myself and that bun in the oven additionally. And yes, I pay my own bills - and I can open my own doors.

CARS LOVE MAKE-UP, TOO!

What's a Beetle without a l'il eye make-up, huh? =)

MEOW!

Blurry image, I know, but that's just the camera me.

Anyway, so then she fell in. :)

BARE IT ALL

On social networking sites, that is. Telling (virtually) the (entire) world where you are, what you are doing there, whom you are with and your feelings/ thoughts at that time is de rigeur. I confess, I've done that numerous times myself, having even mentioned the reason I was, say, at a fancy restaurant. And to take it a step further, adding pictures while there.

All the reports on safety aside, I'm now thinking this: is it really vital for all the people on my 'friend list' to know this? Or somewhere, deep down inside all of us, is an exhibitionist just waiting to get out? You'll notice that not-so-cool geo tags don't make their way out there - but what would be perceived as upmarket, or just plain 'with-it' very much are. It's almost as if we seek approval (and maybe even applause and admiration) for what we do.

And oh, just so you know, as do my friends on a popular social networking site, I was at California Pizza Kitchen last evening, with a friend, M. Bah.

HO-HUM

It's just one of those lazy, dull days that follows a holiday. More specifically, a mid-week holiday.

Drat.

RELIC FROM THE PAST

Spotted one of these in the city recently. Didn't know they even exist anymore, except for some poor stray battered ones. Or in books. Neat and clean, this was. I wonder if it's in use. Hmm.

Brought me back to school days, when we were taught to write with fountain pens. As part of The Great Upgrade from the Pencil, one activity was to write a letter - yes! write! an actual, real letter! - and post it (using a post box similar to the one above) to your neighbour - the one who sat next to you in class, that is. Oh the delight to have an envelope marked to you in the mail! To open it up and read a letter from your classmate! And then share the whole thing in class... Even though you knew whom it was from, and the thought behind the activity, it still had bucketloads of charm. An exercise I would love to repeat with my kids someday. But by then, will even the random stray post box stand?

WAVES

Waves
lashing,
roaring,
white foam.


Coming in from the sea
to pay obeisance at your feet.


Cooling,
tickling,
playful.


They speak
a language of their own.

SO I HAD A DATE

Not with the significant other, but some super exotic ones out of the fancy packaging above. (Apologies for the very well taken photo, but that's just lazy me who can't bring herself to haul out the DSLR and will make do with sub-standard images from the cell phone camera, you see.)

So what is the brouhaha about, anyway? Well, for one, the dates were simply divine. Of monstrous size, embedded in each was an elegant blanched almond, balancing the sweet taste of the date with the uhh... non-taste of the almond. Heavenly. Second, there's Van Gogh as well.

P.S.: The Van Gogh book you see there was just to place the package on, but I now like how two of my favourite (albeit unrelated) things have been captured in the same frame.

MY KITCHEN WINDOW

is green.

Now if only my thumb, more so.

SOAP

Taking a shower just got more fun!

PINK, BLUE AND SPARKLY!

At the risk of sounding all giggly and schoolgirly, I must gush about having bought sparkle nailpaint. Sparkle! And pink. Pink?! Okay, dusky rose, or rather some fancy-schmancy name for it that's on the bottle. And dare I say it - blue! A nice, turquoise-y blue!

Circa 1990s, eh?

COLOURS

CALORIE, YOU MEANIE!

Oh you empty calories - I do love you so! The better the food tastes, the nastier are the calories.

From bitter experience *sigh*, I've come to believe that it's an undisputable law. There are times when I'm convinced that my denims have shrunk, and I know it's the calories to blame for the darn shrinkage. I mean, what else could it be, right? There's no way that the jeans could've become tight...is there? *hushed silence*

DENTIST

The teeth have been acting up for the past few days now. By acting up, they've been sensitive and putting all these scary thoughts *whimper* about cavities in my head. Really, those little green bugs with fangs that dance in toothpaste commercials are so not cute when it comes to real life and real teeth. That's when I stop chortling and saying "oh, how sweet". Hrumph.

Call in the dentist!

There I am, reluctantly dragging my size 8 feet dentist-wards, hearing the drill go ZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz in my head, having mental images of green bugs wrecking havoc on my already-sensitive teeth. An agonizing wait later, I'm all togged up in a bright blue (what a cruel contrast; nothing can be that cheerful at the dentist's office really) cape, harsh overhead light shining into my eyes, and lying vulnerable on the chair... torture. (breathe in, breathe out) Doesn't help overmuch when the masked and gowned dentist peers in to my open mouth, brandishing the dreaded drill...

Turns out though, that I'd been overcautious to the point of paranoia, as there are no cavities *cheers* or other scary germs prowling around in Teeth Land. *whew*

The teeth are now clean and happy!

DUDE, WHERE'S MY FRIDGE?

... And a gazillion rupee prize to anyone who can locate my fridge under all that!

BREAKING NEWS!

Circa 1980s: Enter newsreader. Bright red lipstick and rouge: check. Chiffon saree impeccably pinned to shoulder: check. Hair perfectly coiffed: check. Tight smile on face: check.
News read out deadpan. Nothing is too sensational, awe-inspiring, nail-biting or demands any sort of reaction, really. Minister so-and-so loses election. A facial muscle twitch should do it. Floods in x part of the world. A facial muscle twitch should do it. International honour bestowed on classical singer. A facial muscle twitch should do it.

2011: Enter newscaster. Flawless (if overdone) makeup: check. Business suit (with the brand flashing on ticker): check. Poker-straight hair: check. Expression on face: Can't say, really.
After all, it's all about the breaking news. OMG celeb so-and-so chipped a nail while at the spa today. Breaking news! The darling of all party circuits caught in an MMS scandal. Breaking news! Cricket season begins. Breaking news! A tree fell and blocked traffic for 2.5 hours. Breaking news! Mrs A from Apt. 4B in my apartment building chopped veggies for lunch today. Breaking news!

Really, now! Is there ANY sanctity left to the news at all?!

HIATUS

Apologies!
Loads to say, not so much time. :( Will be back soon.

CHILLIN'

Literally. It's around 9.4 degrees, and cold, by Mumbai standards. A good feeling, this, all tucked up, toasty warm in a quilt, sipping on a mug of coffee. :)

Sometimes, life doesn't get better than this!

TIME TRAVEL

Speaking of a time machine back there, there's another era I'd like to stroll through and see for myself - the time when you had Rhett Butler romance Scarlett O'Hara and raise the estrogen levels of all women around and make them wonder, what's she got that I haven't? (Maybe the 17-inch waist had something to do with it. Knew I shouldn't've polished off that last slice of pizza!)

And for me, the forever-in-the-making-paleontologist, gimme dino(saur) time anytime!