Monday, May 28, 2007

Life or something like it

How do you define being alive?

Is it defined just by the act of breathing, the beating of a heart, the pumping of blood? Or is it more than that?

Is being alive, being truly alive, a matter of being able to do things with this breathing, beating, pumping body? Being able to dance, sing, walk, run, read a book, laugh, go to work, play some football, cook... how about just being able to really engage with and enjoy your family and friends? And what if you can't do any of that? Is that a life? Or, at least, is that one worth living?

And if it's not worth living, then what can you do about it? What if your body continues to breath, beat, pump? Do you just continue to exist in limbo?

And what about those you plan on leaving behind? Acceptance -- on their part -- calls for a total lack of selfishness. You'd think that would be hard. The funny thing is, it isn't. Not if you believe that a life is more than merely breathing, beating, pumping. Not if you remember who someone was when they were truly alive.

Sunday, May 20, 2007!

Since my life didn't seem quite hectic enough, I thought I'd take on freelance assignments from back home.

A piece on NYC's Curry Hill for The Hindu's Business Line.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Fun reading about.. hair

This is how an article in the Washington Post begins:

Spring, and a young man's thoughts turn to . . . chest hair.

Also, that of the back, the belly, the shoulder and maybe regions farther south. It turns out that there is a hair-removal waxing procedure called the "Boy-zilian," the male equivalent of the Brazilian bikini wax, for which you would have to put your ankle behind your head in order to do it yourself, and we never want to think about that again.

Back north.

Your chest, back, shoulders. Summer beckons. The pool, the beach. Skin revealed. Worries: Slack gut, man-boobs, back fur, being regarded as a metrosexual. You don't want to be prissy (unless you're into that), and yet you don't want to be so hirsute that some guy comes up to you at the pool, going: "Burt? Burt Reynolds?"

You know you're gonna enjoy (and giggle furiously) over an article that begins like that. Interesting insight into the male body obsession. I take vengeful pleasure in knowing we -- women -- aren't the only ones.

The piece also offers helpful hints for potential Christmas gifts :) --

Last summer, a guy named Brett Marut in Santa Monica, Calif., came out with a thing called Mangroomer. It's essentially a shaver on a stick, designed to enable you to reach around and shave your back. He priced it at $39.95, looking to appeal to guys in Flyover, America, who were too self-conscious to go to a salon to get it done, or even let their friends know they were trying it out. He didn't have much money, so he just put a couple of ads on Internet search engines. It was an instant hit, blossomed at online retailers and, 10 months later, Mangroomer is in every Bed Bath & Beyond in the country.