Charlatan's Diary

My Career...

2005-07-19T01:29:00.000-04:00

"My Career is a quest to amass enough evidence to prove I should quit."
- Roger Director.

As most of you may know, my career of choice is television production. I was having a 'silly-fofical' discussion with my roommates, who are in the business as well in different capacities (one is an actor, the other a youth worker who has dabbled in film/screenwriting).

Off late, I have been questioning myself and my decisions on the business I am in. I joined this online group recently which was started by a friend of mine from high school. And all my peers from St. Vincent's High School all seem to have "real" jobs, cars, wives, children even. And I sat there thinking to myself, ' is it really worth it? Should I just get a "real job"? Be a third (or is it fourth?) generation banker.'

The fact is, I move from job to job every few months. And most times, I don't know what the next job is. Or where the next contract or pay cheque is coming from. But on the flip side of things, I love my work. I mean, I really do. I am in the middle of a fairly long contract right now (7 months)...and I had a month off between the end of June till next Monday. And in that 4 week period, I hated staying home, though, I did need a break from it all physically. Mentally, I was bored. I look at all the people I know outside of of the entertainment business, sure they have the moolah, the vacations, the cars and the wine and the women. But I have fun at work. I laugh, crack jokes, be silly and play pranks and put up wierd notes and signs all over the studio and at the same time, put in all the hard work and dues as any other professional, in any other line of work.

And like all good things, there is the negative aspect ...I have insecurity flashes about the money coming in, about my script/show ideas getting sold, I cannot committ to any one job, one place to live, hell, not even one country. (Just imagine how messed up my personal life is!)

And to top it all off, I started reading a book called "The First Time I Got Paid For It - Writer's tales from the Hollywood Trenches." The quote off the top is from that book. Most of these stories have been inspiring, some have been frightening, but all of them make me want to believe. And I have come to terms with the fact that I have chosen to do what I do. I am bound to be an insecure, determined, creatively driven mind, and I am who I am and this is what I do for a living. I am in the entertainment business. I wipe studio floors, I build props, I write scripts, I pitch show ideas, I grip lighting rigs, I work the camera, I stay up all night to make 30 seconds of video, I laugh, I cry, I make television. I entertain people. I love my job.

I've read some really good stories in that book, I haven't finished it, but I'll leave you with one small paragraph about a writer working at MGM (in the 60s). The studio gives him a last minute deadline and he rushes to finish his script. And it sucks. They reject it. This is how the story ends...
'a disinterested studio guard let me into the basement of the Thalberg Building, where behind a chain-link screen we discover, among other artifacts, my personal items in a cardboard box. With the box under my arm, I walked across the parking lot to my car, realizing even then that I had been taught a valuable lesson. You'd better learn how to write a story, or your things wind up in a cardboard box.'

My Sex Toys and Chocolate...

2005-04-21T12:13:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone,
Like I said on my last post in March (my only post in March), I have been considerably busy given the slow times in the television industry here in Canada this past winter. I was working on a production called Sex Toys & Chocolate. This is the second season of this show and I have had the 'fortune' of working on it for both seasons. Well for the most part, it is a talk show about sex, indepth details about sex. For my friends outside of Canada....I am sorry but I don't think the international distribution rights to this show haven't been sold yet.
There are so many funny stories from this year's taping of 39 shows in hi-definition. But my favourite is the Porn Stars episode. Our guests were Ron Jeremy, Seymour Butts, Sean Michaels, Linda Lovelace, Gina Lynn and this other woman whose name escapes me right now. SO this other woman, lost her luggage in transit on the way to Toronto (or so she said). So she went shopping and bought some clothes for the day of. Anyhoo, this is what happened. She bought a really really short skirt. This is not just a short skirt, this is a short skirt a porn star is wearing......without underwear!!! One of the segments is a living room segment and there is a coffee table with a row of candles on it. So just before we roll tape, I go to light these candles and she's sitting on the couch with her legs spread just about wide enough. And I was lighting the row of candles, my eyes fell upon 'the sight' and I shamelessly, kept looking till my lighter got really hot and burnt my finger....and that my friends made everyone on set laugh, including the lady in question.
There you go people, that was my "go ahead, laugh at me, i fucked up!" anicdote for the time being.
Enjoy.
Ajeeth

My Absence

2005-03-30T01:22:00.000-05:00

Hey everyone....
Sorry I havent been writing for a while...
loads has happened since the last blog....and I wish i had the energy in me to fill you guys in on everything but I will soon.....tomorrow perhaps...its too late in the night to be typing anything sensible...but there is loads to talk about....porn stars...sex shows...comedy shows...concerts....loads!!!!
later guys
Ajeeth

My Big White Book

2005-01-09T02:58:00.000-05:00

As a child, I can't quite put my finger on when and where these memories come from, but my brother and I had this book with pictures of cars, fire trucks and planes in it. It was a big white book. And I distinctly remember this one picture of a fire truck with two little Dalmatians sitting in the fireman's boots. Another picture in that book was that of a PanAm airplane. We used to dream about flying in it one day. And not too long after that, we did. We visited our family in the States. He was 11 and I was 7. We had a blast, though I have very fragmented memories of that trip, the photographs from that trip do bring back great memories.

When we were kids, we used to dream about flying on a big plane, that would take us away to some place that we knew nothing off except that our Aunt lived there. It was so innocent, that wish of going away to that far away place. We knew nothing about passports, visas, plane tickets, jet lag, international borders, the yellow embarkation line at the airport. None of that made any sense to us. We just wanted to get on the big plane and fly.

Between 1988 and 2003, I hadn't left India and in those 15 years, I grew up, made some great friends, had many experiences good and bad, and in August of 2003, I embarked on another great adventure. I came here to Canada. Its been "just" a year and half (maybe less) since I've left India to come here to Canada. In the time that I've been away I have learnt to love what I've left behind even more. My parents, my brother, my friends.

I miss home terribly. But, I know that I am here for a reason...I am here to achieve something. And at the same time, I have a new big white book. Only this time, it doesn't have pictures of fire trucks, dalmatians, planes and cars. It's got memories, memories of home. Memories of my parents, my brother (and our petty fights), my friends (hanging out with them at home, at the university, at the record store, at the local pub, at the bench.) I flip through the pages of this new white book, and I long to go home, even if for a short while and just return to innocence for a few days, for a few precious days. And if I wish and hope hard enough, I know I will be there soon.

I miss you.

"Alone in these strange streets
I think that I've walked them enough
Poetry and Aeroplanes
I am tired of waiting for love"

My Age of Innocence

2005-01-03T02:35:00.000-05:00

The contents of this blog is extremely confusing, even to the author...God Speed!!!

Its 2005.
The year that I will turn Twenty Five.
Me? Twenty Five?
Darn.

When I was 17 years old, when I was still Happy Go Lucky, I told myself, I would kill myself before I got that old. But guess who chickened out of that one?

I remember how easy life used to be, even 2 years ago, when the only thing on my mind was getting up, going to university and hanging out with people, people who meant something to me. People who I could hang out with and not want anything else in return. Be free, be calm, be in love, be best friends, be silly, be wasted. But all of a sudden, all the people I used to know then are going through the same perils of life that I am going through. I used to think it was such a load of crap when someone said, I think I am at the "crossroads of my life". And now, I can safely say, that I am too...I so am. Yes, indeed so. I am lost, I am unsure about anything and everything. I am at the crossroads of my life.

I waited a long time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life...careerwise. I thought once I figured that all out, everything would fall into place. But guess what? What I didn't realise was this: When I thought up that ridiculous theory about everything falling into place, I was lost. I hoped everything would fall into place, I still do. I know what I want careerwise, I just don;t know what I want for myself as a person. Some of my closest friends get married this year. I wonder how and what convinced them that it is the right time to get married. I am happy for them, I am glad they have met the right person. But something gives them the confidence to get married. That's such a big committment. (And I can hardly even get myself to commit to do laundry once a week. I don't have that confidence.) But I am thankful for one thing...that I know that I am not ready for something like that yet. And from what I know, I don't know if i will ever will be.

I wonder what life would be like if you knew everything. Especially everything about the future, just how boring would that be? If you knew who the "right" one was before you found out. If you knew what the right thing to do is before you figured out what the right thing to do is. I am at that stage where I can question all these things. The answers, I don't have, I will have them in good time, I know. But the fact that I have these questions about the next job, about the meaning of satisfaction, the yearning for love, the quest for some kind of stability in some part of my life. Unfortunately though, in our Emotional, Personal and Professional lives...change is the only constant. A stable life would be a boring life. An innocent life would be great.

After a lot of thought, a lot of self torture, a lot of sleepless nights, I have come to this conclusion. I am still innocent. I might not be the twelve year old I once was, or the young rebel without a cause, or the student of Statistics...but somewhere deep inside, I am still seventeen, somewhere deep inside, I am still twelve. That's what keeps me sane. That's what keeps me anxious, that's what makes me eager and keen and thats what keeps me smiling.
I will be "grown up" when i need to be, I will be a child when i need to be. Maturity doesn't come from actions and words. It comes from feelings, emotions and it comes from being yourself. And even who you are changes.

Life's a Beach!!!

"What I want is what I've not got....what I need is all around me!"

My Heart Goes Out...

2004-12-30T01:58:00.000-05:00

My heart goes out to those who have been affected by the Tsunami waves that rocked the shores of South Asia earlier this week. I am here, half way around the world and my hands feel tied. There is not much I can do, not much I can spare, but every little bit counts and I am trying to do my part.
Many of you may have got this email in your Inbox but I will paste it here as well.
Please give generously.

Hello All,
As you've probably seen on the news or read in the newspaper or on the Internet: On December 26th a devastating earthquake in the Indian Ocean has killed over 80,000 people (at last count). Hundreds of thousands more are homeless, have lost loved ones and their homes washed away. In a matter of minutes, these people have lost everything they've owned, treasured and cherished.

One Canadian Dollar may not get you much in Canada but it will go a long way to help the victims. As you celebrate and bring in the new year tomorrow night, people half way round the world are mourning the loss of thousands.

Sacrificing just one beer will feed 10 victims.

Please do try and make a contribution, no matter how small. It all counts.I thank you with all my heart.

God Bless and have a wonderful 2005.

Ajeeth
416.824.2776

Canadians wishing to make a financial donation may donate online at www.redcross.ca , call 1-800-418-1111 or contact their local Red Cross office. The 24-hour toll free line accepts Visa and MasterCard. Cheques should be made payable to the Canadian Red Cross, earmarked "Asian Earthquake and Tsunami Relief" and mailed to Canadian Red Cross National Office, 170 Metcalfe Street, Suite 300, Ottawa, OntarioK2P 2P2.

My Winter Jitters

2004-12-22T02:44:00.000-05:00

The weather has officially gone nuts...it was a nice 1 degree celcius a few days ago...and then on Friday night, it was a -8, which is bareable...but suddenly friday night/early saturday morning it just went nuts, it wasn't snowing, it was bright and sunny but the darned windchill was -36 C degrees at one point...and the next day it was "warmer" a nice comfortable -20 C.
I am glad I wasn't working for these two days, but that didnt stop me from pulling out the long-johns and making a trip to the corner store and curse my damn luck... thinking to myself...what the hell was I thinking...why the fuck would I give up 17 degree winters and come to this hell hole....damn damn damn....what the hell was I thinking...why, why on god's great earth would someone want to live here? And Its not just me I am talking about.

The folks who discovered/founded this land, Canada, they were here before America was formed...and they looked at the whole continent, they said, oh "Who needs the damn beaches and warm, tropical weather...we'll just take this big chunk of Ice right here!!!!"
Only the British would be dumb enough to send all the convicts to Warm Sunny Australia and settle here.

Anyways, the last few days, I've been thinking up these "You-Know-You're-In-Canada" jokes...
here are a few of them.....

1. You know you're in Canada when you have to wear 4 layers of clothing to go have a smoke.

2. You know you're in Canada when you say, "Oh it must have warmed up a bit, its snowing!"

3. You know you're in Canada when you wear a University of Indiana tee that has "Indiana" written across it, and the guy on the bus looks at you and says, "Indian, eh?"

4. You know you're in Canada when George W. Bush visits and says, "I am glad the people who turned up to welcome me were waving it at us...and and I especially glad they were waving with with all five fingers!"

My Sporting Nature

2004-12-06T02:57:00.000-05:00

SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT…

There is something about men and live sport. Not to sound like a male chauvinist pig or like a “man’s man”, but there is just something about men and live sport. All my life, I’ve been addicted to watching live sport on television, be it cricket, football (I mean football, not soccer), hockey (I mean hockey not ice hockey), the Olympics (not the winter Olympics) or basketball (yes, the NBA); I’ve always watched sports on television. Then I came halfway across the world from India to Canada, South East Asia to North America, from Bombay to Toronto, from a city of 19 million to a city of 4 million. Suddenly everything changed. No more live cricket. No more live European football, unless I make the effort to find out what channel it is on…oh let me guess…digital…cannot afford it.

So now, the only live sport I can watch really is football, (American Football, maybe some Canadian Football, its only recently that I discovered that there is a difference between American and Canadian football, but the game still doesn’t make sense to me, so I won’t talk about it and make myself look stupid.) Curling (now that doesn’t make any sense either, I’d rather watch American Football, maybe even some Canadian Football….they seem the same to me anyways.) and then there is Hockey. I am starting to enjoy hockey. I mean I do not know all the finer points of the game, but then again I know the important stuff. I know that there is a puck, two goals, two teams with five/six players each on the ice, unless there is a power play. But the most important thing I’ve learnt is that if you are in Toronto you’d better support the team with the blue maple leaf on their jersey. It’s either that or you go to Ottawa. So I won’t risk it. Go Leafs, Go!!!
So coming back to men and live sport, I grew up in India. So it’s only natural that I know everything there is to know about cricket. But more than the rules, the stars, the team that won the World Cup in 1975 and who they beat to win it, I know that I have memories. The memories attached with cricket. My first memory of watching cricket on TV is back in 1983. I was barely three years old. India was in the final of the world cup against the West Indies. I don’t remember a thing about the game. I was too small to remember. All I remember is that my father got home our first colour television. It replaced the old black and white TV, I don’t know why it was called black and white anyways, everything seemed blue on it. All I remember is that my dad bought a brand new colour television to watch India play the world cup final, and we won! I mean we beat an almost unbeatable team. Twenty years later, that old television, still exists. I am sure it still works fine, except that it’s lying in the garage in a box above the trunk which has my mother’s entire collection of jazzy 80’s plates, cups and spoons.
I remember watching on that same old television in 1989, on the 9 o’clock news that the Indian team selected a 16 year old child batting prodigy from Bombay to go on the tour to Pakistan. The same kid who went on to become the greatest player India ever produced, the same kid who has now become a man, Man enough to shoulder the hopes of close to a billion people. But if there is anything I remember about that night in 1989 is that I was playing scrabble with my parents and my brother in the balcony of our home. I remember every World Cup match between India and Pakistan. I remember the joy of beating them every time we played them in a World Cup. I remember that in 1992, I was allowed to watch the game and my older brother wasn’t because he was in Grade 10. And in India, if a kid is in grade ten he won’t even be allowed to eat a full meal let alone watch cricket, especially a week before the final exams. I know that four years later when the World Cup was held in India, I was in Grade 10. I remember that my grade 10 exams were postponed because the World Cup was being held in India. I know we beat Pakistan in astounding fashion. I know that Ajay Jadeja slammed the Pakistani bowlers. I know Venkatesh Prasad got Aamir Sohail bowled out in spectacular fashion. But what I remember most is my dad showing a rare show of emotion while watching cricket. I remember my mom for the first time watching the whole game without complaining. I remember that in 1999, the Indian team won a game against them in England when the army was battling Pakistani infiltrators on the border. And I remember partying all night on the sea-face in Bombay in 2003 with both the street kids and the kids who got out of daddy’s car. I remember my dad calling to find out if I’d got to watch the game knowing that I didn’t have television in the dorm. I remember that the same morning I had an uncomfortable situation with my then girlfriend’s father.
I remember that I cried when India lost the semi-final of the World Cup in 1996. I remember that my dad said, “I’m still alive so don’t cry. Don’t be a sissy.” I remember that my brother, my father and I all faked illnesses at school and work to watch India win the white wash home series against England in 1993. I remember that around this time a year ago, when India beat Australia in a Test match in Australia for the first time in 22 years, for the first time since I was a year old, I was in Toronto, listening to live commentary on the Internet at 2 a.m. I remember calling home to India to talk to my friends about it. I remember wanting to be out on the street watching the kids light fireworks to celebrate. I remember wanting to watch the highlights but instead, my roommate and I watched the Toronto Maple Leafs win a game that took them to the top of their division. I know that my Canadian friends have memories etched around Canadian hockey just like I do with cricket. It’s a man thing. Just like the kid in Brazil who know exactly what was happening in his life when Brazil won the football (not soccer) World Cup. Or like the old man who sits at Tim Hortons every morning, who knows exactly what he was doing the last time the Leafs won the play-offs; Or the kid in Chicago when Jordan returned to lead the Bulls to three more NBA titles. There is just something about men and sport. Not to say that women don’t enjoy sport or are not passionate about it. But there is just something about men and the sport they watch on TV. It’s about growing up, growing old and it’s just something to talk about I guess.

My Advice to You

2004-11-26T18:07:00.000-05:00

“Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it”

Its funny how advice works; when someone else needs it, you dispense it with great wisdom and confidence. When someone is down in the dumps, and they come to you for help, you give them advice, you tell it to them like it is, you make them feel good about themselves (well, most of the time at least!). And when you do that, you feel wise and profound. Life has an uncanny way of turning around kicking you in the “behind”.
Eventually, you will have a bad day, or something will affect your life and you will be in need of advice. Ironically, you will be in need of similar, if not the same, advice you gave someone else. And that same person will probably be the one giving it to you. It is not that people need to be told how to live their lives, or make decisions about their lives; just that sometimes, they need to be reminded of how things stand and they need another perspective that is un-biased and that seems to help.
Advice you give, or advice that you take, should not be “the decisive factor” with your future actions with regards to the problem at hand. You listen, you comprehend and then you decide what’s best for you. For at the end of the day, you are responsible for your own actions. You choose what you do. If you don’t hold yourself accountable for you have how can you blame someone else? I am preaching as I write this. But I know for sure, that when I wake up tomorrow, I will need someone to remind me of all this. I will need to be “told” this. For I am human, I am as lost and confused as the next person.

“Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth”

My Interpretation

2004-11-24T01:43:00.000-05:00

I do this thing sometimes, this thing, with lyrics. I love listening to music. One of my only "true" passions. Listening to music, appreciating it, getting all profound about it. There is this one thing I noticed, when I first listen to a song I like, I listen to it all the time, sometimes two or three times a day. Then, I get bored of it. Time passes, sometimes days, months, years even, and I listen to that song again. And it's like, I never forgot the tune, never forgot the lyrics (or most of the lyrics) but the emotion that comes with listening to that song is somehow new and refreshing.
I think its what I am going through in my life at that point in time, and something that I've known for a long time comes through for me, in some really unexplainable way. I don't know if this just me, or others feel that way too. It's like, somehow these songs "make more sense to me now." The songs come through for me, just like other things in life, like family, or your pet, or your buddy.

For me its music, for others it could be a book, God, work, food, a TV show, a poem, a movie, the stranger they met at the coffee shop, or a Playstation game.
Profound thoughts have roots in the most unsuspecting of things, it just dawns on you, you just stumble upon it. I guess that's why they call it pro"found". (there you go, that's my dumb blonde moment for today!!!)
Anyways, here are the lyrics that got all this verbal diorreah tonight.
These are lyrics from a song I first heard in the Summer of 2000, the best god damn summer ever. Its a song from the soundtrack of the movie "The Beach".

Beached - Orbital

Trust me
It's Paradise
This is where the hungry come to feed
For mine is a generation that circles the globe in search of something we haven't tried before
so never refuse an invitation
never resist the unfamiliar
never fail to be polite and never out stay your welcome
just keep your mind open and suck in the experience and if it hurts you know what... it's probably worth it
you hope, and you dream but you never believe that something is going to happen for you
not like it does in the movies
and when it actually does
you expect it to feel different
more visirale
more real
i was waiting for it to hit me

i still believe in paradise
but now at least i know it's not some place you can look for
cause it's not where you go
it's how you feel for a moment in your life
and if you find that moment it lasts forever

My To Do List

2004-11-20T22:48:00.000-05:00

Lately, I've been scared (I think thats the right word?!) of stepping out of the house. I can't quite explain it, but I've developed this liking to staying in bed watching TV or spending time on the computer. This combined with my recent sleep cycle which can only be described as pitiful, has completely messed me up.
Is this a perk of working freelance or just the devil's workshop?
I'd say its a bit of the former, and mostly the latter. Yes, I have an idle mind, yes indeed!

This is what they mean they say you have to be 'creatively unemployed'. (I wanna meet "they" cause "they" seem to know a lot, "they" seem wise. "They " talk a lot. I need some of that knowledge and wisdom, I already know how to talk a lot.) Here I am between jobs, its saving grace, that I know I have to work next month. The whole of November is gonna be just sitting around doing nothing...or is it?
Well, mostly yes. But I do have a list of things to do.

Here it is:

1. Work on my cooking show idea.
2. Write at least 30 pages of my "yet to be named" script.
3. Experiment with some new recipes.
4. Swim (atleast twice a week)
5. Get a grip on my sleep patterns.
6. Listen to some new music.

If I do at least 2 of the 6 above mentioned items everyday, I will be happy with November/December.

My Dinner Party

2004-11-16T01:14:00.000-05:00

One day you're wearing torn jeans, growing a beard and listening to Pink Floyd thinking the whole world is against you. The next thing you know, you haven't heard a Pink Floyd record in its entirity in four years, you listen to jazz once in a while, you are shaving three times a week and the only pair of torn jeans you own are still in your closet because you haven't had time to get rid of them.

I feel like I am at a stage in my life where I've put college life behind me, but haven't embraced professional life either. It's this transition phase.

The end of the summer that's just gone by was a real surreal one. It was the first time in almost 20 years that I wasn't going "back to school". It never struck me that, I've been in some kind of educational institution since I was 4 years old. Every year of my life from 4 to 24. That, to me, is just brilliant. I don't feel like I've spent 20 years of my life "educating" myself. It feels in some ironic way that I have been out of school for almost ten years, or maybe that's when I realised that all this schooling is not good for me, and continued just because I had to. Okay, now this piece is not going where I intended for it to go, so I will just cut to the chase.

So what got me thinking about this whole thing was this:
Last night, I had a "dinner party". A dinner fucking party!?!?
What's happened to me? The last time I had a party, there were people I had never seen before at my place passed out, I was sitting up at 4 a.m as most people were leaving, I still had Vodka to finish, and my close friends and I were bitching about the teacher's pets in college.
Cut to: Last night.
Everyone arrives between 7 p.m. and 7:30 p.m
Drink beer and/or wine till 8:30 p.m.
Dinner is served at around 8:40 p.m.
Dessert at 9:15 p.m and by 10 p.m everyone's left!!!
And the funny thing is that I actually enjoyed it. Every frickin' minute of it.
Right from making dinner for eight people, setting the dinner table, making sure there were enough forks and knives...and talking to everyone, making sure they are comfortable and having a good time, and doing the dishes after. I actually had a good time.
And all my guests were between 24 and 40. It makes me think...Have I actually grown up or am I just pretending to be older?
It makes me think of a paragraph from the book High Fidelity (Nick Hornby). The following is my version of that paragraph:
I felt like a fraud. I was like all those people who suddenly shaved their heads and said they'd always been punks before punk was even thought of: I felt as though I was going to be found out at any moment, that someone was going to burst out into the room and yell, "Ajeeth used to be a boy!". It never occurred to me that the people in the room have boxes of their own that contain GI Joe toys, little Teddy bears, Archie comics and New Kids On the Block posters.

Makes you think huh? Well, it should!

My Name (Addendum)

2004-11-15T03:27:00.000-05:00

Hey All,
I forgot to mention one of my nicknames.
My cousin used to call me "Papita". (And she was quick to point out that I conviniently forgot about it.)
That means Pappaya or something like that.
Why did she call me that?
Truly, I don't know how it came about. And she didn't call me that out of affection (or not just affection). I think it was because, at that point in time, I did look like a Pappaya. Yes, it's sad but it's true. I did look like a Pappaya, more like a pumpkin... yes indeed.

My Sleep Deprivation...or something like that...

2004-11-14T02:23:00.000-05:00

My sleep pattern's F***ed up!
That's the best way to put it really.
Since I finished my contract on the last job, I've had all the free time in the world. I don't have to wake up at 6:45 a.m any more. (Not for the foreseeable future at least.) No more setting the alarm for 6 a.m and hitting the snooze button six times every eight minutes to wake up on time for work. This is one of the few perks of unemployment. (Till I start my next contract!)

So since I don't have to wake up early anymore, I don't have to sleep early anymore.
That finally gives me the freedom to catch up on all the late night television I've missed in the last 7 months. I am a late night television freak. So now, I can switch between David Letterman, Jay Leno, Conan O'Brien, Jon Stewart and Jimmy Kimmel. (not necessarily in that order)

So here is my usual pattern:
11:05 pm....Watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
11:35 pm to 11:45 pm watch Jay Leno's opening monologue.
11:45 to 11:50 Watch David Letterman's Top 10....(whatever the topic is on the night!)

[for about 30 minutes from Midnight to about thirty after, it gets tricky!!!]
At midnight, Jimmy Kimmel starts. So its a toss up between Dave, Jay and Kimmel.
And it's hard to keep up with all three of them. So I just see who has the most interesting guests on.

Then, at 12:35 a.m, Conan O'Brien has my undivided attention for the most part of the next hour.
Conan, you are the best late night show, yais, for me to poop on!!!

Once, Conan is done, begins the real fun. Full-fledged channel surfing. God Bless the man who invented the remote control. And god bless the person who invented cable television. 72 channels, one remote control. That's something else. Between now and 4 a.m, I shamelessly switch between the 72 channels and with great virtuosity, and avoid the French channels with such elegance, I surprise myself.
In the unlikely event that there is nothing interesting on television, there is always the Internet. I love high speed internet. I love the fact that I can watch streaming videos, or listen to music online, or just download whole episodes of my favourite TV shows and not to mention Movies!
I have almost downloaded all the episodes of the first three seasons of my new favourite sitcom 'Scrubs' and the first season of 'Arrested Development' (the greatest show on TV right now!). Oh, I am such a television Geek.
Also, another new obsession, is Stick Cricket. Check it out at www.stickcricket.com , its good fun!!!

This usually takes me to close to 4 a.m. Then I read a book, till I fall asleep.
Only to wake up around Noon.

So here's the skinny,

My sleep's f***ed up!
My New Best Friend is the Remote Control.
I need a new Hard Drive to accomodate all the new Video files that are queued up on Kazaa.
I need to get my life back in order.
Someone please help!!!
Get me a job, or at least sleeping pills!!!

Thanks for listening, as always!
Its 3:20 a.m now, must go read the book!

My Name

2004-11-09T02:25:00.000-05:00

I was sitting idle today, just because the television was not holding my interest. And my internet download speeds were pathetically slow, so I couldn't download any episode of Scrubs. (Downloading episodes of Scrubs is now my favourite pastime.) As I was laying down on my bed, under the covers, all warm and sleepy, I started thinking about the names people call me by.
Don't ask me why I did that, I really, I mean really, cannot explain.
Sometimes, somethings just cannot me explained. And me thinking about all the nicknames I've had thus far, is one of life's unexplainable mysteries.

So, my actual name is Ajeeth Parkal. (don't let it scare you, my ignorant North American friends...It is pronounced like it's spelt. Go on, try it. It's easy...there you go, nicely done!)
My first name, commonly spelt Ajit in India, means Invincible. I like that. I like my name.
But throught out my life, I've had some kind of nick name.

At home, my parents call me, Ajoo...but hang on a second, they just call me that when they want something. I know, I am not judging my folks, I love them, God Bless their hearts. But, they just use Ajoo only when they want something done; chores, errands etc. My mother especially!
My dad on the other hand, has these real rare spurts where he shows me some affection. Three times in the last 24 years (something like that). He uses Ajoo too.
My brother, he probably doesn't realize it, but he does the same.
The only person who uses Ajoo consistently, with or without any ulterior motives, is my cousin in the States.

Growing up, at school, my friends started calling me Perky. Yes, Perky. I guess it came from my last name: Parkal. I got so used to being called that, that I started signing my name as Perky on birthday cards, school benches etc. A variant of that name is Perks. I have a close circle of friends who still call me that. And I still respond. I too, have names for them. There is Dur which is short for Durand; Bulldog for Siddharth Rege because he used to look like one; and Yogesh was Dhaps. (Dhaaps is short for Dhaapneya...which is slang for Bespectacled in Marathi.) And I still call all of them by that name. Its been atleast 8 years since I've been called 'Perky' consistently, but if someone were to yell out Perky while I was walking down the street, I would turn around and look for an old chum.

This brings us to what I am known as now, here in Toronto. Well most people call me this anyways: A.J.
Yes, I know, that's also the name of a Backstreet Boy.
How did this come about? Ok, I do have an explanation.
At College, here in Canada, one of my professors/instructors, decided to call me that. And it's stuck with me since. Everyone I've gone to school with here, or worked with, inevitably call me that. Some people do make the effort to call me "Ajeeth". But those same people, refer to me in the third person as A.J.
A.J has its own ups and downs. When someone introduces me as A.J, I get a wide spectrum of reactions, ranging from "They have people in India with a name like that?" to "Oh a brown man with a white name." (I like that reaction. I get to typecast some more people as ignorant. I like doing that. ) The good thing about being called AJ is that people remember me. And that's a good thing I guess, especially at work. I was really uncomfortable at first but now, I used to it. I thought I was being lame by calling myself that, but, what the hell, I am used to it now.
Some people even call me "A to the J" or "A dot J dot".

I prefer being called Ajeeth, and most of the time I tell people that. But they have the choice of calling me what suits them best.

What's in the Name, eh?

Thanks for bearing with me. Hope you enjoyed today's quota of useless information.

My Justification (Vol. 2)

2004-11-09T02:22:00.000-05:00

So I started reading a book today, and it had an interesting Introduction.
Kurt Vonnegut's Mother Night

This is the only story of mine whose moral I know. I don't think it's a mavelous moral; I simply happen to know what it is: "We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

How about that? Think about it.

My Justification

2004-11-08T01:25:00.000-05:00

So in the last twelve hours or so since I started my Blog, the few people (say 5 or 3) who have visited it, ask me, "Why charlatans?"
I say, "Why not?"

Then again, I think its only fair that I justify myself.
Here are my top 3 reasons...

1. I have an Under-grad degree in Statistics, yet, I do not know my Alpha from my Beta...and I still get confused between Mean, Median and Mode. Though, if I put my head to it, I could probably get around it. In my second year at College (or as the Canadians like to call it: University) when they were teaching us Statistical Models, specifically, the Latin Square Design (LSD) model, I had no clue what was going on. The only thing running through my head was, well, Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds (LSD), lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD), and lotsa sleep deprivation (LSD). In spite of this, I take pride in the fact that I am a Statistics graduate. (Hey, don't judge me, I'll do that myself.)

2. At my last place of work, whenever there was a computer glitch, they turned to me with doubts, questions and panicked when they had no internet or their computer screen was bombarded with pop up ads. The only reason I knew how to fix their computers was because, there is nothing worse than a computer without Internet. So I'd fix it with trial & error methods (another thing I claim to know because of Statistics.) And as far as the pop-up ads are concerned, I mastered the solution to that problem 'cause I frequent websites with pornographic content ( I already asked you not to Judge me okay, that's two strikes!)...and when you have years and years of experience with that, you can never go wrong. With any other computer problem, its easy, just unplug it and then plug it back.

3. My career of choice is Television production. Hmmm, the TV Industry, the charlatans of the world unite. We just show up and they pay us. Need I say more?

There you go!

My First Weblog

2004-11-07T13:24:00.000-05:00

charlatan: (noun); a person claiming a skill or knowledge he does not have; quack; imposter

I see things, I think things, I say things and then I put my foot in my mouth.
So while I am at it, I might as well write things.

I have not been writing as much as I used to (and definitely not as much as I should). So here am I, writing, hoping that I will make it a habit to write as often as I can; writing as much sense as my brain will allow. Some of it will be profound, some of it will be just exercise for my fingers, and some exercise for the old noodle. ( In doing so, If I connect with anyone person, anywhere, my efforts will not be in vain.)