Now you may scoff and snicker or hopefully might be sympathetic to what I'm going to tell you. But all I can think of, looking back is "How stupid could we be." Yeah, some solace, I was not in it alone.
When the Internet first came to Mangalore we were excited, wondering how was it going to be to have the whole world at our fingertips; what! that's how they advertised for it.
So we went to this Internet centre which obviously was just set-up and new. The computers seemed newly waxed and shiny and there were two dolts there pretending to know everything about everything.
I am not sure if some of you Mangaloreans remember, but this place was owned by some guy called Raj...something and I think it was in this place opposite the Hotel Roopa building. Anyway, this Raj something is past any bad publicity since this was years ago, when we were innocent Internet hungry kids... ok ok... college students.
A bunch of us went to explore the Internet (hey, that was not meant to be corny, it just turned out that way) and well everyone wanted to go to www.yahoo.com.
My friend and I were at one computer, of course I didn't want to go exploring alone; www.yahoo.com it was.
Some guys around there said it was started by Shammi Kapoor, who made the word 'Yahoo!' popular in Hindi cinema when he sang a song called 'Yahoo!' in a movie.
Anyway, when we typed www.yahoo.com, we saw the page getting loaded slowly, very very slowly. We kept craning our necks trying to get a sneak preview of what the Internet looked like on other people's computers. The "Master Computer", which was being used by Raj something seemed to be busy, with lots of pages being loaded and fast. That was where we wanted to be.
When we asked one of the dolts what the hell was wrong with our computer, he said, "Well, it's bound to happen you know. It's all new and it will take some time. Also, there might be a lot of people connecting to the Internet now, so the speed is slow."
Yes, of course the computer had to be primed and had a gestation period of 12 months before it could load a pudgy little page on the screen. But remember the innocent kids (we)? Well we fell for it, hook, line and sinker.
When the page didn't load, we kept hitting the refresh button and then it went through the painful process of starting to load up all over again and suddenly stop.
And bear in mind, this bloody show was costing us 90 bucks an hour (in Indian Rupees of course).
Being students this was not cheap at all but our great adventurous spirits were keeping us up, until we hit,"Socket Error."
"Socket Error" post-fixed with a vague integer was the highlight of the day.
After half an hour of staring at "Socket Error" and wearing out the refresh key and clicking every possible button on the page, one of the dolts came to us, "You're one hour is up. That will be ninety rupees please."
So our first Internet experience was probably like the first time we did it, the big question being, "Did it or did it not happen."
At the end of one hour we were almost broke, confused and knew that we should NOT be telling this story to ANYBODY.
And after almost twelve years, I snapped.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Oh what the hell, Blog It!
While browsing the net I came across this advertisement which announced "We need writers. Publish, be read, and get paid. Start writing instantly! www.blogit.com/"
The link took me to an introductory page of how writers could have their own personal space (isn't that what even blogger gives you?) and a list of features like editing tools and all the other good stuff. Also, their guarantee is that you will be read widely and appear on Internet searches and in time (maybe posthumously) get paid for your writing.
I was not warming up to the idea at all. This is my primary blog and I love being here. My friend introduced me to Sulekha and asked me to post my writings there. I did and I got a fairly good response and I did meet other good writers. And though my blog is still there, eating up Megabytes of space, I'm back here. This feels like home.
Of course, my friend wanted to help because he thinks I need to get rid of my laziness, start writing more and incorporate people's feedback into my writing; after all they are my audience and it will be a good way for me to learn. I was very enthusiastic and that enthusiasm lasted exactly 23 hours including eight hours of sleep.
My husband has tried too, like I have said before he is my worst critique, he tries to break things gently to me, but after me going , "Oh enough with your lectures, already!", the poor guy has relented. He now quietly reads whatever I write and will tell me that something needs to be changed only if it is absolutely necessary. Like in one piece I wrote, the taboo, for some, four letter word was written correctly and not misspelled with the *. After his critique, I had to go back to misspelling it, and not grudgingly.
So, there is a dream of writing well, and getting published, some day (maybe posthumously!). But till then, I will attempt to keep writing regularly and share with you my thoughts, eccentric moments and wild soul. Amen. (Now that's a phrase I've heard before!)
The link took me to an introductory page of how writers could have their own personal space (isn't that what even blogger gives you?) and a list of features like editing tools and all the other good stuff. Also, their guarantee is that you will be read widely and appear on Internet searches and in time (maybe posthumously) get paid for your writing.
I was not warming up to the idea at all. This is my primary blog and I love being here. My friend introduced me to Sulekha and asked me to post my writings there. I did and I got a fairly good response and I did meet other good writers. And though my blog is still there, eating up Megabytes of space, I'm back here. This feels like home.
Of course, my friend wanted to help because he thinks I need to get rid of my laziness, start writing more and incorporate people's feedback into my writing; after all they are my audience and it will be a good way for me to learn. I was very enthusiastic and that enthusiasm lasted exactly 23 hours including eight hours of sleep.
My husband has tried too, like I have said before he is my worst critique, he tries to break things gently to me, but after me going , "Oh enough with your lectures, already!", the poor guy has relented. He now quietly reads whatever I write and will tell me that something needs to be changed only if it is absolutely necessary. Like in one piece I wrote, the taboo, for some, four letter word was written correctly and not misspelled with the *. After his critique, I had to go back to misspelling it, and not grudgingly.
So, there is a dream of writing well, and getting published, some day (maybe posthumously!). But till then, I will attempt to keep writing regularly and share with you my thoughts, eccentric moments and wild soul. Amen. (Now that's a phrase I've heard before!)
Sunday, October 19, 2008
The Joke's On Me
My friends and I were at The Comedy Store a few months ago and one of them said to me, "You know, may be you should try getting up there. You're funny."
Yes, I might be funny in a very non-standup comedian way. I can give you witty one-liners, sarcastic retorts which the "retorted" might not find amusing and sometimes, just sometimes, some original lines which seem so funny at the time that your cocktail might come out of your nose but then just not worth writing down.
But given all that, I do have the superpower to butcher jokes when I tell them.
There's this one joke I love, which was extremely funny when I read and also extremely funny when this guy who has the talent of remembering and delivering jokes told it.
This was my version.
Quote. Hey have you heard this joke about an Australian... no wait...English soldier who gets caught... no not caught...I think he was injured. Well, nevermind. There was this English soldier, or maybe he was a pilot, I don't exactly remember but he is injured... I think it's the World War.. but Australia was not involved in the World War... so anyway, in some war this English soldier is found injured, well not injured, he was unconcious and the Australian army... I didn't know Australia had an army. So moving on, I think this guy was found wounded and unconcious and then the next day...yeah it should be the next day... ok, so the next day he comes to conciousness and realises that he is gravely wounded...or may be he lost an arm or leg or something... and he sees the nurse and says... actually cried, "Did I come here to die." and she says, "No you came here yesterday."
Unquote.
When I was finished, there was a stretch, yawn and snicker all from different people. There might have been others who probably just killed themselves but I was not counting.
Now when I am with people who speak the way I do and when I say speak the way I do I mean in my comfortable Indian accent where I am understood no matter what I say, I am eloquent and my one line quips are instantly caught by only the intellgent of course and I get a few laughs. But now in England, if I have to be funny, I have to be funny in an accent I am not comfortable in and then I slur, mix the words up and stutter.
I was ill last week and my colleague extending sympathy to me said, "Oh poor you, I hope you're feeling better." And my response was something around me not dying but that I just had a cold. If I said that eloquently, it sure would've been funny but in between the stuttering and slurring he probably thought I was having a fit and was ready to call 999.
The only way I get around telling jokes is when everyone is pissed drunk. And since I am in the same state too, the only jokes I can remember are the knock knock jokes which I first heard in high school and haven't updated the list after.
So next time you're in a big drunken group and hear a woman tell you this disgusting knock knock joke about a mosquito and another mosquito, that would be me.
Yes, I might be funny in a very non-standup comedian way. I can give you witty one-liners, sarcastic retorts which the "retorted" might not find amusing and sometimes, just sometimes, some original lines which seem so funny at the time that your cocktail might come out of your nose but then just not worth writing down.
But given all that, I do have the superpower to butcher jokes when I tell them.
There's this one joke I love, which was extremely funny when I read and also extremely funny when this guy who has the talent of remembering and delivering jokes told it.
This was my version.
Quote. Hey have you heard this joke about an Australian... no wait...English soldier who gets caught... no not caught...I think he was injured. Well, nevermind. There was this English soldier, or maybe he was a pilot, I don't exactly remember but he is injured... I think it's the World War.. but Australia was not involved in the World War... so anyway, in some war this English soldier is found injured, well not injured, he was unconcious and the Australian army... I didn't know Australia had an army. So moving on, I think this guy was found wounded and unconcious and then the next day...yeah it should be the next day... ok, so the next day he comes to conciousness and realises that he is gravely wounded...or may be he lost an arm or leg or something... and he sees the nurse and says... actually cried, "Did I come here to die." and she says, "No you came here yesterday."
Unquote.
When I was finished, there was a stretch, yawn and snicker all from different people. There might have been others who probably just killed themselves but I was not counting.
Now when I am with people who speak the way I do and when I say speak the way I do I mean in my comfortable Indian accent where I am understood no matter what I say, I am eloquent and my one line quips are instantly caught by only the intellgent of course and I get a few laughs. But now in England, if I have to be funny, I have to be funny in an accent I am not comfortable in and then I slur, mix the words up and stutter.
I was ill last week and my colleague extending sympathy to me said, "Oh poor you, I hope you're feeling better." And my response was something around me not dying but that I just had a cold. If I said that eloquently, it sure would've been funny but in between the stuttering and slurring he probably thought I was having a fit and was ready to call 999.
The only way I get around telling jokes is when everyone is pissed drunk. And since I am in the same state too, the only jokes I can remember are the knock knock jokes which I first heard in high school and haven't updated the list after.
So next time you're in a big drunken group and hear a woman tell you this disgusting knock knock joke about a mosquito and another mosquito, that would be me.
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