Autograph

Yesterday was the first time somebody asked me for an autograph. Somehow some people had thought it was a good idea to launch a new barbeque restaurant with a fashion show. They paid me and gave me food and booze, so I wasn’t going to complain. Anyway, after the show was done and I was into my umpteenth beer this little girl comes up to me, must have been six or seven, and asked for my autograph.

So I slapped her.

Just checking if you’re still awake! I didn’t actually slap her. Instead I did what I was supposed to do and signed. There was about four or five other people that they had got signatures from, so it wasn’t as if I was that special; but it was still a new experience.

Apparently the fashion week has been a success, at least for me. I’m still waiting to see what the fall out will be, but people recognise me now, that’s for sure. Is this my fifteen minutes of fame?

I’ve taken to just assuming that it won’t maintain itself and enjoying it while it lasts. Of course, hopefully I’ll be able to make a bit of cash before it fades away completely, then on to Goa.

I really need to get back to the beach. I want to find myself a little beach hut by the side of the water and write about all the shit that’s been happening to me. I might well be able to produce something worth while. I’ve got a number of short stories that desperately need writing (except for sleep, the thing that has suffered most lately from my popularity has been my writing) and some time to recalibrate would be good.

Though, that said, I’m back on an upswing. The last two weeks were a bit down (everybody has those swings right? It’s just not me that’s nuts, is it?) but now I’m back in full force and enjoying life as much as I possibly can.

I wonder, if I read back over my blog, would I be able to spot those periods where I had my down swings and those periods where I was up and happy just by the language I use? I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

The Day After

Yesterday was the last day of the IMFF and the last day of the first week of work I’ve done this half of 2007. It was a gruelling week. What got to me (and everybody else) the most was the standing around, waiting for people to decide where you go in the order, what clothes you should wear and if a shawl should or shouldn’t be added. The word modelling has lost its original meaning for most people, I think. To model means to stand as an example of how something would look.

We create models of the world to test our hypothesis. These models are then put up to stringent test and inspected from all corners to see if it holds true and gives an accurate representation of what it is trying to model. These models rarely complain because, for one thing, they are not sentient.

Unfortunately, when your model is a human being and you spend as much time looking at it, poking it and considering it, that human model often won’t appreciate it terribly much. People think that modelling is all glamour, parties and pictures. Most of modelling, however, consists of standing around and waiting for something to happen.

You don’t realise how tiring doing nothing can be until you’ve been forced to do it for five days.

Last night there was supposed to be a party to celebrate the ending of the fashion week. There was a frenzied, desperate pushing at the door with people trying to get in, screaming and generally acting like there was actually something worth seeing inside. There wasn’t, really. Just clumps of people standing around and talking, wondering why they had tried so hard to get inside in the first place. I think the negative energy of getting into the hall seriously affected the atmosphere, poisoning everybody’s mood before they had even arrived.

Then, at about 1 o’clock they police arrived and shut the entire party down. I had kind of expected that the party organisers would have been well enough connected to make sure something like that wouldn’t happen, but apparently they quite frequently have run-ins with the police, according to the rumours that have come my way.

As a whole the week was tiring, discouraging but definitely an experience I wouldn’t have like to miss out on

Fashion Week

It’s 10:40 in the morning and I’m sitting in a nearly deserted hall waiting for the day of fittings and choreography to start. Last night the show’s organiser yelled at all the models that they had to be on time, otherwise there would be some major repercussions. On time was forty minutes ago. Apparently the majority of the models didn’t take the threat very seriously. With good reason too, I might add. The show’s organiser isn’t here yet either.

I have been steadily coming later to these things. The first day I was here before the official time. The next day I was exactly on time. Yesterday I was fifteen minutes late and today I only took the rickshaw when the allotted time had come. I don’t like being late, but I also hate being forced to wait around.

These shows are an interesting combination of dreary boredom and frenzied insanity. For most of the day we either sit around, waiting to get called upon or standing around in designer’s outfits hating the fact that the designers are showcasing autumn and winter collections when it isn’t really autumn or winter yet.

Then, because the scheduling always goes to hell in a hand basket, in the last two hours of the show they try to get four hours of work done. This is normally the time they choreography of the entire show is done, so we generally don’t really know what the hell we’re doing. I swear, the woman that does the choreography will have to take a month long holiday just to recover from herding around sixty models; who all either have no experience or egos big enough to give cover from the rain.

It’s amazing that the shows work as well as they do. In front there’s models walking down a long white ramp, looking beautiful and composed. Behind there is only screaming, confusion and chaos. ‘Where’s my shoes! Where’s whatshisface? Where’s my beer!’ (Drinking, by the way, is a normal part of the shows. No complaints here!)

My noteworthy walk so far was for Levis. They didn’t want to showcase the jeans like they usually do, so they dressed up all of the strange gear. They gave me jeans, a leather apron and two knives (no shirt) and said ‘look menacing’. So I did. I thought thoughts of murder and destruction and let them all show on my face as I walked down the ramp. The effect was, apparently, quite something according to all the compliments I got afterwards. I must have looked like an absolute psycho, with a cleaver in one hand, a sharpener in the other and murder in my eyes.

Anyways, things have finally got going so I’ll leave you with that and I’ll be sure to update you all soon.

Of lies and power

I was weak, I was soft and I capitulated without getting what I want. What’s more, I know the guy that I was dealing with me was lying to me on probably at least two counts. I really need to become less nice to people, though admittedly I didn’t really want to lose this deal. Through this I’ll hopefully get the necessary ‘cred’ to not have to capitulate in the future.

I’m still finding it very hard to deal with all the lying around here. I’m getting a bit better at spotting it, but being so bloody honest myself (often to a fault) I often just take other people’s words at face value. I guess that’s an important lesson for me to learn.

Almost everybody seems to lie. It’s an expected characteristic, I think. I wonder what they think of me always telling the truth? Maybe they think I’m an idiot. Yet I’m still of the opinion that honesty is the best policy. If people know they can trust what I say then they will be more likely to depend on me, rather than on somebody whom they can’t trust.

Being caught in one lie is enough to destroy your credibility. After that people will always wonder if you’re telling the truth, never really forgetting that you already lied at least once. So if you’re going to lie, lie so that nobody catches you! That’s a pretty pessimistic piece of advice, isn’t it?

‘The devil will tell a thousand truths to make you believe one lie’ (not sure where that’s from)

I’ve been learning a lot of pessimistic advice recently. I’ve read ‘The 48 laws of power’ and I don’t think you can find a more pessimistic book about utilising power as that one. It’s right up there with Machiavelli’s ‘The Prince’ (it actually often quotes it, as a matter of fact).

Still, I advise the book. It’s got a lot of good ideas, even if you chose not to utilise all of them. An interesting thing is, I initially rejected quite a few of them, but then later on realised that the writer was probably right and I was probably wrong.

So do I actually want power? I’m not sure, but I’d sure like to have the skill set available to take it if I find out I do.

The story continues

I haven't written in a long time, have I? Nothing really to report. The last week has been very busy, if not that useful. Went to a lot of parties and for some reason they all sucked. Probably to make up for last week, where we had a weekend of parties that were absolutely phenomenal.

I'm finally getting some writing work. I'm writing the newspaper stories for a local fashion event (I offered to help the organizer) and last night somebody asked me to quote him a price to write the content for his web page. For some reason, people over here seem to assume that I'm capable, purely because I'm social and self confident.

The same dude was even talking about if I stuck around that he'd like me to possibly help coordinate his models for his company. He doesn't have any yet, but he he thinks he can start a successful agency over here. I told him the offer was interesting, but that we should take everything one step at a time. First, let's see how the writing thing goes and after that we'll take a look at if we want to work together more in the future.

So far the dude hasn't impressed me much. He hasn't called back when he was supposed to and has generally been flighty. According to the word around town that's because he's really busy. That's an explanation, but far from an excuse in my book.

The IMFF (Indian Men's Fashion Festival) is starting in a few days time. I'm supposed to be walking it and it was supposed to be my great debut. There is now a question, however, about whether I'll be walking it at all. It's through my provocation and I don't regret the provoking, but it would pretty much be the end of my modelling career here in Bangalore. Oh well, so be it. I never saw it as much more than a bit of fun and a way to make money.

Maybe I'll just hit the road again if it doesn't work out. Continue on my journey and take all the experiences and lessons learned as my prize for the price I've paid (cash wise, experience wise my time here has been brilliant).

I'll get back up here soon and tell you all how this cross road in my life has resolved itself.

Expectations

I seem to have created a bit of a reputation. I’m the guy who’s come into town only a short while ago, but knows everybody, is always full of positive energy, drinks like a fish and dances like a madman. I’m the guy who you see at every happening party and who raises the energy level through his exuberance and attitude. I am the guy that everybody wants to be around.

Somehow my reputation has way outgrown the actual me. It’s a bit intimidating, actually. When I’m tired and not full of energy, people ask me what is wrong. When I bend down to tie my shoe laces the DJ tells me to get back up. When I go home early to get some sleep, people call me up to ask if I need to talk.

When I’m in a good mood, that’s brilliant; their very expectation creates a self-fulfilling prophecy. They expect me to have good energy, therefore walk up to me with good energy themselves, thereby infecting me with their energy in turn; which then helps to perpetuate the cycle. When I’m in my downtime, on the other hand, and just want to spend a bit of time by myself to philosophize and incorporate all the new things that I’ve learned into my psyche, it can become a drag to constantly have to sit with everybody, great everybody and meet everybody (especially since I don’t remember half of their names!).

I’m also just not used to this much attention. It’s a bit freaky, to go from having only a few real good friends in Singapore and almost nobody else, to having this huge social network that I somehow have to maintain.

I’m secretly expecting the entire thing to implode on me. When the novelty of the new kid in town wears off and people realise I’m not quite as amazing as they make me out to be, things will doubtlessly change.

Unless, of course, I actually am the person everybody makes me out to be. That is, however, a thought I don’t want to tackle just yet. I’d rather just live with the idea that it will end (and therefore enjoy it all the more) so that if it does I won’t be too scarred and if it doesn’t, well then I’ll recalibrate my thoughts at some future time, when I’m more certain of the course of my social life.

Applied Body Language

This weekend I experimented with body language. I’ve been studying it for a while now, but this weekend I really focused on reading other people’s body language and giving out the right body language myself. The effect, to put it mildly, has been tremendous. Being able to understand what somebody else is thinking before they say something, or what they really mean when they are saying it can have a huge effect on rapport building. What’s more, by consciously working on my own body language I not only influence other people’s reactions, but also my own mood.

So my piece of advice for today (I’ve got a lot of advice, I admit) is to pick up a body language book and try to internalise the information inside. It will honestly make a world off difference to you and people’s reactions to you.

That’s not terribly convincing in and of itself, so I think I’ll give you some examples to think about.

1) Last night we were standing in a club, when a young man walked over that none of us particularly liked. In one sentence, he tries to hard and in that way really gets on everybody’s nerves. We didn’t want him to be a part of our group, but we didn’t want to be rude and tell him to fuck off. So, instead, the guy and I who were talking closed off our communication circle (he’s studying body language too) and within five minutes he had taken the non-verbal cue and walked away to bother somebody else.

What do I mean with ‘closed off our communication circle’? Okay, normally when you’re talking to a person you stand at about a 45 degree angle to them. This is natural and creates a triangle, with two points taken and the third point free. Anybody that walks up to the triangle will naturally take the third point, thereby making a complete triangle. If the people are happy with that person there, they will continue to stand in the same way and the conversation continues.

If, on the other hand, they don’t want the person there they turn towards each other, facing each other full on. This is a much more intimate (or intimidating if the people don’t know each other very well) way of standing. It informs the third person, subconsciously, that he or she is not welcome and unless they are complete social morons, they will quickly pick up on that and bugger off. This actually works.

2) Your body language conveys your mood and how comfortable you are in a situation. How comfortable you are in a situation in turn influences how important people think you are in a room. Therefore, the more comfortable you appear in a situation, the more important people will think you are. Closed body language (folded arms, head tucked down, folded legs, etc.) makes you come across as defensive and uncomfortable. People will not approach you and will think you are of lower social standing. Open body language (open arms, legs apart, taking up extra space and head tilted straight or tilted back) conveys you are comfortable and as a result will make people think you are more confident, more approachable and of higher social status.

What is more, when you do this you actually end up feeling more comfortable! You will find yourself speaking more and being more accepting of other people’s moods and ideas. Your mind doesn’t just influence your body, but your body also influences your mind.

3) Where you sit at a table actually influences your status in the group your in. What is more, it will impact how you sit. Sitting with your back to a wall will make you more comfortable than sitting with your back to an open space. When you are more comfortable, you take on more comfortable body language. With your back to an open space, on the other hand, you will feel more defensive as you’re not sure what is approaching behind you. This will close you off, which again will impact how much you talk and how people see you. The best place to sit is at a table is at the head, with your back to the wall. The worst place is at a side with your back not only towards an open space but also an exit.

Next time you’re sitting at a table just watch who speaks most. Interestingly, you will find that those in the more comfortable positions will speak more and you can actually make a shy and quiet person become more talkative and (vica versa) a loud person quieter by putting them in these types of positions.

That’s just three little things that I haven’t only read about, but actually seen in action over the last few days. This stuff works. If you don’t believe me, try it. Then go out and buy yourself a body language book!

Black and White

There was a book that I saw in the book store the other day called ‘social vampires’. The cover said that it was concerned with those people in your life that drain you of positive energy. People that are like energy sinks, just bringing people down with their very presence and their attitude. I didn’t pick it up because I thought I didn’t have any such people around me. Last night I realised I was wrong.

There is this one person who is exactly that. You might know these these types of people; they are determined to pull everybody around them into the same quagmire of unhappiness and discontentment, because they are too stubborn and stuck in their ways to find their own way out. This is the type of person who will constantly tell you how to lead your life, when you know you’ve got things sorted out better in your own head than they do.

They are convinced they have the right answers when you can see that the answers they’ve got aren’t satisfying them or leading to any type of happiness or self-fulfilment. I think what I’ve noticed with these types of personalities (and I’ve met a few I now realise, thinking back) is that they don’t understand that there are actually other versions of reality that are just as right as their own. It’s their way or the highway.

Last night I chose the highway. Bugger buying that book. Why spend 5 US when there is a much simpler way to deal with these types of people? Avoid. ‘Give me maximum warp, Scotty, we need to outrun this monster!’ I’ve worked too long and too hard at improving my internal world to let some semi-stranger come along and try to disrupt it. I am not a councillor, I can’t prescribe medication and frankly I’ve got much more interesting and better people around me to devote my time and attention to.

So late last night I finally walked out, along with most of the rest of the group, and we instead went and had tea in the lobby of hotel. Sounds like a strange thing to do in the wee hours of the morning, but when choice is limited you’ve got to make do with what ever comes along. (Remember, the clubs and bars close here at 11:30)

It was amazing how the mood changed after that. We sat around and cracked jokes about everything and the kitchen sink (especially each other) and ended up spending numerous hours in hysterics. I’m sure the people in the hotel thought we were high on something, but if any of us were they didn’t have the decency to share it with me. There was tea of course, and cigarettes and down in the car a premixed bottle of vodka-coke that we frequently nipped out to sip, but for the rest it was just about timing, tone and delivery.

In the end we tried to slip off with a real feather boa that had been found on the premises. We tried distraction, bullying, bribing, begging; in short we tried everything but violence (and that’s just because they took away our cutlery). They wouldn’t let us take it, however. It was, apparently, property of the hotel. My bet was that it had been left there by some other guest and they’d just decided it looked good on one of the shelves. From forgotten and ownerless party wear it was somehow converted into hotel property just by the act of long-term association. Well, we’ll just have to be more sneaky next time.

I got in at 6:30 this morning, which I think is quite an achievement considering the clubs had closed seven hours earlier. All-in-all a good night with two important lessons that I kind of already knew, but it is always good to have reinforced: ‘Sometimes just walk away’ and ‘If they haven't told you you can't, don't ask them if you can’.

The Power of Interest

I don’t know when it happened, but I think one of the biggest changes that has happened inside me over the last few months has been that I’ve started to really like and become interested in people. I’m sure that this isn’t the only reason that I’ve had such a positive response off late (maybe I just fit better with the Indian people than with the South East Asians) but I believe that it has played a major role.

With every person I meet I try to show a genuine interest in them. This isn’t pretend, either, this is honest interest and overwhelmingly people have responded well to it. I think most people are too busy in their own heads to give their full attention to the people around them. Therefore, when somebody does do that people feel special. it’s a bit like shining a spotlight on them and giving them centre stage.

Of course, not everybody is interesting. I’ve met a great deal of people that I’ve come to realise I have nothing in common with and not surprisingly I do lose interest in them; but the key is that they have my interest from the start and it is theirs to lose.

For every single person in this world there is one thing that interests them above all others and that is themselves. A person can never get out of their own head. They are permanently in there and everything they do, see and feel is always in relation to their own experiences. When you take an interest in them you focus on what they think about and care about the most. Naturally, they are going to appreciate that.

Can this type of interest be faked? It probably can be, but I think you’ll find that as you try to fake it you end up actually feeling it. When you properly manage to connect with another person (or establish rapport with them, as it’s called in the official jargon) you can’t help but enjoy it and when somebody truly enjoys the company of another person, that second person feels complemented on a subconscious level. It starts a positive feedback loop that ends up really enhancing both people’s day (if not lives).

I find that my life has been greatly enhanced by the huge number of people I call friends over here. Just their company would be enough, but that is far from all they give. They help me when ever they can, they bring me to places and let me experience things that otherwise I wouldn’t have experienced and they introduce me to ever more people with whom I can then start the whole process again.

That’s the great thing about being likeable; people actually want to introduce you to their friends as your friendship reflects well on them. Therefore I suggest that if you want to meet more people you try to take a real and active interest in the people you already meet. In that way you’ll soon find your social circle expanding and your social interactions being fuller and more enjoyable than they ever were before.

Chugging along

I would like to say that Cochin was great, but I have no idea. I was basically only in the hotel, the pub or being driven between the two. I did have a blast, though. The show was fun (nice people) and the party after was even better. I think the free piss might have had something to do with that, of course.

I met a ton of people and yet again they were positive, receptive and generally friendly. One guy was even talking about bringing me back down for a photo shoot. We’ll see if that one pans out as well.

The trip down was a little odd, as we had a mother of one of the many girls with us and she was one of those people who unfortunately wants to teach everybody how to live their lives. I think it’s rather interesting that a person who’s never been on one of these trips before thinks they have a better idea of how things should be done than the other dozen people who all have been in the industry for the longest time.

Back, on the other hand, was great. We were eight of us (me and seven girls) which, as you might be able to guess, was highly enjoyable at least for me. My room (which I had shared with one of the stylists) had been used both as a place for make up and a place for pre-drinks (as in the drinks that are consumed before the show. A brilliant idea that certainly makes you think the show went a lot more smoothly than if you hadn’t drunk). The result was that there was still a whole bottle of vodka that hadn’t been drunk. Wasting is, of course, a sin; so I felt it was my Atheist duty to finish the bottle.

12 hours go a great deal quicker when you’re surrounded by beautiful women and have vodka in your belly (making the women all the more beautiful). I don’t think I stepped on too many toes, except possibly for the other people staying in the carriage who were trying to sleep.

So yes, everything is still a sweet dream. We’ll see how long it lasts, but I’m going to enjoy it while it does.

Unique

Two nights ago was unique. I’ve met this guy down here, who’s wild, crazy and a little bit insane; a great deal of fun, in other words. We were sitting around in the local coffee joint with yet another friend (a woman from Italy who works in the IT industry, though you wouldn’t guess that until she told you) and it was a dry day. In most countries that means no rain, but over here that means no booze - a very difficult situation to be in for at least two of us.

Suddenly the bloke had the good idea of going up to these hills (I can’t remember the name). ‘It feels,’ he said, ‘like you’re at the edge of the world.’ Now, that was something we had never felt before, so we readily agreed. We didn’t know, at that point, what we were agreeing too. We walked to the car to pick up supplies (warm clothing, smokes, chocolates, etc.) and found that the lights had been left on.

That, of course, meant that the battery was flat (it always does. You’d think they would have made batteries that could last a while longer with the lights on) and that, in turn, meant we had to push. Finally all the working out in the gym was good for something! It took two tries (the first time he let the engine stall, which was quite naturally met with cries of great enthusiasm) but then we were off.

We passed the guy’s house, but he’d left his keys at his friend’s place, so we were forced to just admire it from outside, without picking anything up from there. That wasn’t such a great thing, because the hills were supposedly cold, but we were still full of good spirit, so we just headed on.

We drove down to the country, visited a banyan tree that you could park inside, tried to have a cigarette there but were thwarted in that attempt as we had no fire. No matter, on we went.

Then we ran out of gas.

I was quite impressed with how well everybody took it. We all just looked at each other (a little bit more at the guy that was driving) and then got out and made our way to the gas station. We filled a sprite bottle with gas, made our way back and continued on our way.

It was an hour long drive, in which we chatted, smoked and braked suddenly for speed bumps that would loom up out of the darkness (the highways over here have speed bumps. No, I’m not quite sure what to think of that either.)

We made some detours, on purpose, and then the Italian lady had a paranoia attack. Not a pretty thing to have happen to you when you’re speeding through the darkness with two guys you barely know in a country you know even less well and after having smoked a nearly pure joint of the strongest stuff. Actually, now that I come to think of it, those things might have had something to do with it.

Some gentle words and slow driving later and she got over it. At which point a cat jumped onto the road in a desperate attempt to commit suicide. Or maybe it just didn’t understand the laws of physics about force, reactions and all that kind of stuff. We hit it and went back to check where it was. It wasn’t there anymore. Fortunately its attempt had failed and it had scampered, or possibly hobbled, off into the darkness.

The mood was still surprisingly good and we soon made it to the top of the hill. It was about 2 am at this time and the hills were completely covered with the thickets of mist. You really couldn’t see past three meters.

For a time we just sat, talked and smoked. Then others arrived (whom we initially didn’t know) and soon what had just been three people talking turned into nearly ten people jamming to music, quibbling with each other and generally having a blast. I’m ashamed to say that the three of us drank easily as much as the rest of the people combined, but we did have a reputation to uphold (or create).

Then dawn came and we were allowed into the park. There we reached the edge of the world. It was, in true Indian style, a cliff which was hard to see in the mist, with no guard rails. It was called ‘the suicide point’ and I thought it was very nice of the authorities that they had not tried to hold back those people that might want to do that name justice.

It was an amazing view. The mist was thick as soup and ended just beyond the edge of the cliff. The sounds were muffled and the wind whipped and chased around us, pushing the fog this way and that. On a high from the drugs, drink, company and altitude we each sang a song on our own, into the mist from the bottom of our souls. It was simply amazing.

Coffee in a little tea house, accompanied by omelettes and bread. Then back into the car to bead back to Bangalore. Both of them were supposed to show up for work that day. Neither of them made it. We actually only got back in at 11 am. By that time I had well and properly passed out in the back seat.

I was told that after he had dropped us off he had discovered that the wobbling that had started on the way back turned out to be a flat tire.

Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong; but it just made the trip that much more brilliant. Hardship on the journey makes the it all that much more special.

The Moment

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but this weekend I get to travel to Kochin in Kerala for free, stay in hotel there for free and get to party for free after I do a fashion show for which I’ll get paid. Pretty sweet deal, huh? It will be my third show in India (I did another one yesterday, which wasn’t that much fun, but alright.) That number will soon explode upwards, as I’ve got a fashion week to walk and so far it seems like people’s response to me has been pretty good, as I’m supposed to walk quite a few shows.

I’m still waiting for my first shoot, though. That’s where the real money and fun are at. And then I can finally show (some of) you some pictures!

I’m still having a great time. Except for a couple of hours in the gym every day (well except for yesterday, because of the show and today because it being a public holiday) and the occasional show, I really don’t have to do terribly much. Somehow, though, I still manage to fill up every minute of every day without getting bored.

I think it’s the huge number of people I’ve met and that want to hang out with me. I’m still mystified about what has changed so drastically to make so many people react so positively to me.

I was invited to dinner at the house of one of the head chefs of one of the big hotel chains here in Bangalore and he told me ‘every one of my friends likes you, every one.’ He likes me too (slightly too much, I’m afraid). Don’t worry, there were other people at the dinner as well.

Another guy from Dubai who’s a stylist there has said that I should come up there and even offered to get me a ticket at some point, so that I could work down there (though admittedly he wasn’t exactly sober at the time, so I don’t know if he’ll either remember or act on that memory).

What ever the reason for it though, I seem to be meeting a ton of people and they all seem to want to meet me again. Tonight I’m meeting a gentleman who throws the parties in the clubs three to four times a week (and now greets me very warmly and always waves me right in, past the ques and – more importantly – the cashier’s counter). He might be able to give me some writing work down here as well. That would be excellent, as then I’d be doing yet another thing I love.

Life is good. I hope I manage to keep it that way.

Open invitation

I’ve been reading this book about body language called, surprisingly enough, ‘Body Language’ by Allan and Barbara Pease. I’ve read it once before, but decided to read it again as I didn’t get as much out of it as I could have got the first time. Now I found this one trick in the book that I decided to try out the other night and the response was amazing.

But before I tell you about the trick, some background information about my self. I’m not sure why but apparently I’m a very unapproachable person. People I don’t know almost never just walk up to me to start a conversation (neither guys nor girls). I’ve never been able to figure out why. I’ve tried opening up my body language, smiling and a whole host of other things, but it never generated any approaches (though it did cause quite a few people to look over in interest).

It can’t be because I’m ‘too good looking’ or anything like that, because I have this mate here in Bangalore who also models is at least as good looking as my self and constantly gets approached by both women and men (including me on the very first day I came out here).

I had accepted that there was something about me that just didn’t make me seem approachable. That is, until last night. Last night I tried something (only once, admittedly) and the response was tremendous. The girl I did it to (I’m generally far more interested in attracting women to come talk to me than men. I realise that is sexist, but then anybody that prefers one sex over the other can be labelled as sexist, in that case!) smiled immensely broadly and actually waved. She even almost walked over, but then checked herself as she became uncertain (I could see the uncertainty suddenly cloud her face) and she walked by. I could have stopped her right there and then, if I’d wanted to, but I was still too amazed by the reaction that a simple gesture had provoked.

I can hear you thinking, even now, ‘okay, you jerk, great story, but what was the gesture?’ Ah hah! I’m not going to tell you. No wait, yes I am. The gesture was what is called an ‘eyebrow flash’. That does not mean you burn off your eyebrows, put lights in them or anything like that (though I’m sure people would talk to you if you put lights in your eyebrows). It just means that you quickly raise and lower your eyebrows.

The reason this is effective is that this is something that we do to people we know and want to talk to. It’s a subconscious signal that tells the other person we recognise them and are willing to talk. Doing it consciously towards a person is basically inviting them in for a conversation. They can approach without fear of rejection.

‘Yeah right’ many of you now think, ‘so how come I never noticed it?’ That’s because it is subconscious, just like a ton of others signals. But I have a much better idea than trying to convince you. I’m going to tell you to try it. If it doesn’t work, well then you’ve really not made a fool of yourself (unless, of course, you think raising and lowering your eyebrows makes you look foolish) and if it does work, well imagine the possibilities!

And it works. That’s the great thing. You might not get everybody to approach, but you’ll certainly get a lot of smiles and positive reactions. In fact, I’m not sure why I’m sitting here typing this. I’m going to go out on the street and try it. And yes, I will also ‘eyebrow flash’ a few men as well, for equality’s sake.

Apartment

I now have an apartment in Bangalore. Well, almost. I’ll have it tomorrow, which is a bit tight because I’m being forced out of my hotel tomorrow morning (and they still have to paint the apartment tomorrow as well, bugger). Still, everything is working out well and it looks like I’ll be here for a while longer.

So all of yous can come and visit! I’m not sure we’ll be able to fit all of you in my one room apartment, but half the fun of India is trying new things, right?

The room has no furniture, only one window and an Indian toilet. Washing will have to be done by bucket (you take water from the bucket, dump it over your head and then repeat) what’s more there is a construction site on one side and a graveyard on the other. It is also on the third floor and has no elevator. That’s all not much of a problem though, because it’s really central (10 minutes walk from my gym) and it has a really nice roof terrace, which I imagine I’ll be sitting on a lot.

It also only costs me about 160 Singapore Dollars a month. That’s a pretty sweet deal, right?

My muscles are finally starting to get used to taking a beating every day and slowly I’m starting to notice the effect. If things go well I’ll actually have a six pack by the sixth. That’s important, because I’m travelling half way across the country for a show then and need to be in good shape. It will also be the first time in my life that I’ll have a full on six pack. It’s about bloody time.

I hope all of you are good and really appreciate the comment that you’ve sent my way. I know I’m not very responsive but I promise I read and think about each of them. Be good, wherever you are.

Alpha

I never used to be the alpha, but of late I am. I notice it in the way that people interact with me, behave towards me and want to be around me. After many months of study, practice and experimentation I am now frequently the leader of the groups I am in. People expect me to make the decision, look to me for acceptance and want me to set the mood.

Some people are naturally alpha. I am not. Everything I am today has been learned from literature, observation and my own thought process. When I was younger I was a social outcast. I had very few friends, was considered weird by most people and generally didn’t have much of a social life. I was introverted, felt uncomfortable talking and was generally shunned by people that cared about their social image.

Here I’d like to talk about what I did to change from somebody at the bottom of the pack to somebody at the top. Most of this stuff has already been mentioned in numerous books, essays and forums. I realise that quite a lot of this will sound repetitive. Still, I include it here because I want to include the whole package, not just those bits that are new (if there are any).

First I’d like to start by talking about the inner alpha, as I think that it is better to start fixing your inner game, before you start fixing your outer game. For one thing, when you’ve got the right frame the rest will all happen quite naturally. Though there might still be quirks that need to be ironed out, it will all flow much more naturally if you’ve go the right mindset. There is a lot of stuff to being an alpha, so I’ll only include some of it in this post. So here are the first four, in no particular order (they’ve been written as they came to my mind):

Alphas expect to be obeyed.

Alphas do not use words like ‘could’ ‘would’ or ‘might’, they tell other people what they want them to do, because they expect other people to do them. So you don’t say ‘could you pass me the butter’ but you say ‘pass me the butter’. You can include please, if you like. Being alpha does not mean being nasty and impolite.

Alphas also make decision for the group and expect others to follow their decisions. This does not mean they walk all over other people’s opinions. Quite to the contrary, they might well wait with making their decision until they’ve heard what everybody else suggests and then go with the suggestion that they think will be best. If, however, nobody knows what to do then the alpha will decide a course of action.

This might sound rude to you, but that’s because society’s ideals are not actually in line with our natural state of mind. We are led to believe in democracy, freedom and free will, but in small group dynamics people give up some of their freedoms in order for group cohesion and enjoyment. People don’t mind if others make the decisions, as long as those decisions bring them something. One thing a leader’s decision brings the rest of the group is a more dynamic time (as they don’t end up arguing endlessly about what’s going to happen next) as well as freedom from responsibility. They don’t have to stick their necks out, as the alpha is doing that for them.

Alphas do not mind if others take the spot light.

Sometimes people want to be alphas and they constantly hog all the attention and the spot light. This is because they are insecure in their alpha status. They are not true alphas, as a true alpha doesn’t mind somebody else taking over for a while, as they still know that they are the leaders. In fact, the alpha of the group need not necessarily be the most talkative person in the group. Some alphas are very quiet, but they dominate by force of will and personality.

An alpha that is insecure in his alpha status will soon be out alphad and might not even be aware of it. What is more, they will quickly get annoying to the other people in the group. A lot of people like to talk and if they don’t get the chance, they will resent the person who is hogging too much of the attention. A true alpha is like a chairman, deciding who should speak by focusing their attention on them (at which point others will follow their lead).

Alphas do not try to be alphas.

An alpha is an alpha. They do not have to try to be an alpha. Anybody that tries to be an alpha is, by definition, not the alpha. In fact, people that try very hard are often resigned to the bottom of the pack. Alphas do not try, they are.

So what does that mean? It means that you tell stories, do tricks and generally behave the way you do because that’s what you enjoy and because you do it well, other people enjoy it too. You talk about things that interest you or talk about things that interest other people because you’re interested in them. You don’t do it because the person will like you more if you do that. You don’t need to be liked, you already are.

If you do things for your own enjoyment people will catch your mood and believe you to be more genuine (which is true). They will enjoy being around you because you give them energy by being full of energy.

Alphas do not seek approval, they give approval.

Alphas rarely ask such questions as ‘Do you like it if I do [blah]’ or ‘do you mind if I do [blah]’. This is because that is a form of approval seeking. The alpha knows not only that he is already approved, but that he must be the one to approve of others. Other people will frequently ask them for their advice and ask them about what they should, or shouldn’t do.

This does not mean the alpha doesn’t care about what other people think. Of course they do, because otherwise they would soon lose their alpha status. They just watch for how others approve through more subtle cues. They read body language and listen to what others say without the alpha prodding. What somebody says in approval about you without you asking is far more valuable than when you try to force them to give you complements. The first types of complements are much more likely to be genuine than the second.

Alphas also give approval to others and, because they are leaders of the group, this approval is very much appreciated. When the alpha of the group gives a complement, this can make another person’s day. Note, however, that this power is lost if you give too many complements. Complements should be used sparingly and truly meant when they are given. That way they hold more value for everybody involved.

More is to follow, please give comments on what I’ve written so far. These are my observations, so they might not all be correct so I expect you to criticise, correct and counter. To be continued…

This too shall pass

I haven’t read a great deal of Buddhist philosophy, but I did read one book of stories at one point. I can’t remember the name, nor the author. In fact I can only remember very little, but the thing I do remember will stay with me for a very long time. At one point the author explains that something we should absolutely take to heart is the sentence ‘this too shall pass’.

As long as we never forget that our low moments will be less low and our high moments higher. After all, depression becomes a great deal easier to deal with if you realise that it will end. What’s more, understanding that the high moments in your life will also pass will make you appreciate them more. You will be less likely to become complacent and more appreciative of the good times you already have.

‘But wait,’ some of you might say, ‘how can you truly enjoy something if you can’t forget that it will end?’

The thing is, I don’t think we ever really do forget that the moment will end. True happiness (or ecstatic happiness) is at best momentary. For a moment you can suspend reality and live in the moment, but within minutes – if not seconds – the moment will pass and though we’ll still be happy, the worries in our mind will come slipping back in.

The realisation that this too shall pass means that those moments of ecstatic happiness will mean more to us and, what is more, those people, things or ideas that bring them will be appreciated more.

Is that pessimistic? I think realistic is more like it, though of course one person’s realism is another’s pessimism. Still, I don’t think it’s pessimistic, as I see myself as an optimistic person.

The first of many

Yesterday I did my first fashion show in India and I have to say it is quite unlike anything I’ve experienced before in the fashion industry. Back in Singers, when I modelled there seemed to be an unwritten rule that models should not have any fun. Not so here in Bangalore. Before and after the show the models were allowed to mingle and behave like the guests. So that included bites, booze and bickering.

The show was, in true Indian style, a bit of organised chaos. The run was practiced once (as opposed to the two hours back in Singers) and then when the show happened the event manager decided to improvise on the mike, ordering the models to do things that they were not in any way expecting to do. They had to answer questions, remove garments and smell each other, while all the time not trying to embarrass themselves in front of hundreds of people.

It went surprisingly well. Nobody made an ass out of themselves, nobody tripped and nobody said anything overly stupid. Well, except for me when they shoved a camera in my face for some local news channel and asked me about the products (which I had not even heard about until yesterday). ‘The products? Oh yeah, they’re really great. What products do they have? Well, uhm, skincare and uhm, hey look over there! That man is using a moisturizer on an uncleansed face!’

No, I didn’t say that. Instead I rattled. I always rattle when people shove a camera in my face. If I’d slow down then I’d sound much more in control and I’d have much more time to think about what I’m going to say next. Slowing down would be the logical thing to do. At that moment logic is not foremost in my mind, though, and I end up speeding up. I guess I can hope I talked so fast that they couldn’t understand me so they’re not going to use any of my footage, or maybe they’ll just slow down the track.

It was quite funny seeing the reaction of the lady interviewing me, when I asked her name (this was before the cameras were rolling) she actually looked shocked. As if I should already have known who she was. She did mention her name, but then I promptly forgot it, as the heavy camera light momentarily blinded me and she started in on her questions. Now that I think about it, maybe she asked me those questions I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know who she was. Would TV personalities be that petty?

Talking about TV personalities, I met another woman last night and she’s the anchor for a new TV show. We chatted about what doing TV was like and only about 15 minutes in did I realise I didn’t know what kind of TV show it was. I hadn’t asked and she hadn’t volunteered the information. It became clear why when I asked her. Her show was the overly exciting and highly entertaining ‘Realty Check’ a program dedicated to bringing the newest news and the hottest tips in the real estate industry.

Wow, that must make for stimulating viewing. I can just imagine getting some mates together, cracking open a beer and sitting in for a long evening of real estate news. One group could cheer for the improving economy and the other group could cheer for dropping house prices. We could invent our own chants and occasionally tussle in a friendly, non-lethal kind of way.

Anyways, the evening was fun. Not profitable in the least (it paid a measly $50 US) but at least it kept me from spending money elsewhere and allowed me to meet some new people. As if I haven’t met enough of those over the last few weeks.

No pain, no gain

I’m in a great deal of pain. Thursday and Friday (as in yesterday and the day before) I went to the gym for a total of three and a half hours. A trainer has been arranged for me and this guy’s a bit of a masochist. He gets you to push yourself to your limits and then asks you to push yourself a little more.

The place I was in was air conditioned and everybody there seemed to be doing alright with the temperature. Everybody, that is, except for me. Both days I was absolutely drenched with sweat; so drenched that I needed to hang out my shirt to dry, just so that my bag wouldn’t end up stinking of sweat along with all the other lovely scents that have gathered in there over the last month and a half.

Now my whole body is sore; my chest, my upper and lower arms, my legs, my back and even my throat. No, he didn’t find some mysterious muscle in my throat that he felt needed training. Instead I’ve got a throat ache. I think I got it from a combination of getting caught in a rain storm the other day (even my underwear was drenched) along with the suppression of my immune system that happened as a result of the hard training. I’m glad that the dude isn’t available for the next two days, so that I can at least get some rest.

But that’s not all. I also almost managed to electrocute myself. You see, my room is not exactly rain proof and it’s been raining a great deal over the last few days. It’s not like my room gets absolutely flooded, but puddles do seem to form. My charger, unbeknownst to me, was lying in one when I decided it was absolutely essential that I recharge my laptop. I plugged it in and immediately a charge started to build up all over the laptop, which I was holding. I got three nasty shocks before I was able to pull the cord out.

Of course I am stubborn, so half an hour later I tried again (hoping that by this time the plug had dried). One more shock made me aware of the folly of my ways. I gave up on the charging till the next day. Fortunately only my ego (and possibly my nerves) were harmed and my laptop continues to function well.

No pain, no gain. At least now I know I’m going to get a little stronger, a little huskier and a little wiser about using wet electronic devices. It’s about time. I’m almost thirty and I’m still perfectly capable of electrocuting myself. I have the feeling that as the rate I'm going I'll be long dead before I'm wise.

Deja Vu

I’ve been picked up by a modelling agency in Bangalore. As I’ve told all of you I’ve been hanging around with some interesting people and one of them said ‘why don’t you go meet this guy, he’s one of the top stylists in Bangalore and blah, blah, blah.’ I no longer have any pictures, or anything from my modelling time, but I did have a great deal of time. So I thought, ‘why the hell not.’

I was given the address of the place and I got horribly lost. Of course it had to be a hot day, so by the time I arrived there (I walked again, like usual) I was absolutely drenched in sweat. I didn’t give a damn, as I thought my chances of getting any work were pretty slim anyway, without a book. So I just walked in, put a big friendly smile on my face and said ‘hi, my name is Symbol, Blah from Blah called you yesterday.’

He looked at me for a few seconds and then asked ‘do you have a book?’ I said ‘no, I’m travelling so I didn’t think I’d need it. Anyway, I haven’t modelled in a couple of years so they’re out dated.’ He looked at me for a moment longer than said, ‘we can use you.’

That, as you might have figured, was not the answer I was expected (with sweat gushing from my face and the front of my shirt wet with sweat). I stopped myself from talking for a few moments, in case I’d stutter and then just said ‘cool’.

That same evening the dude took some new pictures (to send to clients) booked me for the Bangalore fashion week (which he was managing anyway) and got me two shows. The next day he got me a free one year gym membership with a local place and told me I have one month to get in shape.

I love dead lines. They push you to perform. Getting into shape will be a fantastic thing, even if I don’t get any work. But I have the feeling this bloke is pretty serious about using me (he’s already expended a lot of effort on my behalf).

I guess there just aren’t enough white models in India right now. Apparently they fly most of them in from outside. Using me would mean not paying for the air tickets, accommodation and babysitting. That, not surprisingly, is an enticing offer for any stylist cum event organizer.

So what does that mean? Well, I suppose it means I’m going to be sticking around Bangalore for a while longer. I’ll have to make short day trips to the surrounding area. That doesn’t bother me, though. Bangalore is filled with excellent people and I’m sure I’ll even learn to deal with the 11:30 closure time.

Plus there’s a ton of cheap book shops around the city, so I can pick up anything I want to read. I paid four Sing dollars for two books the other day! And if things go wrong? Well, then I’ll just go back to my original plan and keep moving. It’s great living out of only two backpacks. It only takes about an hour to leave almost anywhere.

Still in Bangalore

As the title might already have given away, I’m still in Bangalore. My days have been occupied with writing, reading, drinking coffee, going out and generally spending too much money. I might have mentioned this before, but the clubs in Bangalore close early, frustratingly early. At 11:30, just when you’re really in the groove, the lights come on and the staff start to usher the people out. For me the night only really gets started around twelve, so it has been quite an adjustment.

In the beginning I thought that this would result in fantastic after parties, where all the crowd in the know go to continue revelling deep into the night. But either I’m not hanging out with the crowd in the know, or these parties don’t actually exist in Bangalore. The best I’ve been able to find is to end up sitting in an apartment that needs a new coat of paint with a group of guys who need more female friends.

The result is that I’ve been going out every day of the week, just in order to get the number of hours together that I’d normally do on one or two nights back in Singers. I wonder if the way I’m partying now is more or less expensive than the way I used to party before.

So why am I still here? I’m not exactly sure, to be honest about it. I like the people I’m hanging out with and they are probably the primary reason that I’m still hanging around. Travelling has always been about meeting new people for me. The people here are interestingly different, with a whole new set of hang ups and problems. Watching them has given me some insights into how I deal with my own problems.

One of the biggest problems I’m currently stumbling over time and again is that deep down I’m actually shy and of the opinion that I’m not that good at making contact with new people. I’ve made it my mission to stamp that trait out before I leave India. So far, however, I haven’t been doing as well as I might have liked. I constantly doubt my own ability to initiate an interesting conversation. I know intellectually that I can keep a good conversation going with most people, but unfortunately my fears and worries don’t really care a great deal for what I consciously know. Communication is in so many ways a subconscious thing.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that I am apparently unapproachable. I don’t know why that is, but ever person I end up speaking to I speak to either from my own initiative or through an introduction by somebody else I already know. I realise that this is pretty normal for most people, but everybody must occasionally get approached by a stranger interested in meeting somebody new, right? Well apparently they prefer initiating those kinds of conversations with people other than myself.

It must be something in my body language that seems to scream ‘danger, do not approach’. The problem is that I haven’t quite yet figured out what it is that I do. Do I appear too arrogant? Too cocky? Too self assured?

What ever it is (and I am determined to find out what it is) it is leading to me not being approached, while my own insecurities lead to me not approaching. Those two things together, in turn, lead to me spending a great deal of time sitting alone in all the cafes, coffee shops, bars and restaurants I frequent.

I guess it's simply another barrier that needs to be overcome. I'll keep you posted about how well I'm doing in overcoming it.

Infinity

Don’t think too hard about what is to follow. It isn’t meant to make sense. It isn’t meant to be understood. If it was supposed to be understood, then I would have made it understandable, wouldn’t I? I don’t care about what you really think. Just give me your compliments; just give me your praise. If you tell me the truth I’ll smile and nod, while inwardly wondering at what you’re trying to prove.

The colour of truth is an awful shade of green that nobody really likes. It’s one of those colours that’s available, but so few people paint with. It is only there to shock and awe. It’s one of those things to which we pay lip service, but we never truly appreciate. Truth is a dagger, driven into comfort’s heart.

The syllabus of creation theory is a manuscript written with the sole purpose of destroying reason. If we really wanted to think, we wouldn’t rely on God; instead we would rely on our own judgement, a flawed mismatch of chaos and misunderstanding, a troubled tool of uncertainty and confusion.

When the time comes for our own demise, will we run screaming into the night? When the time comes to pay the Pied Piper, will we haggle for a better deal? It doesn’t matter that we say we’re ready, when the real time comes we’re bound to find that our existence was both too short and too brutish. If we were happy with the little time we were given, then we’ve obviously lived too long.

Try to understand what I’m failing to tell you. Try to comprehend the beauty of my dementia. After I’ve committed suicide, I’ll be certain to clean up the mess. I’ll drag around my lifeless body and wash my carcass with the waters of forgiveness. Even if it then remains tainted, at least I tried to make the best of it. I’ve tried to take this moment and draw it into eternity.

The eternal moment continues into infinity. The boredom was excruciating. It was that extended bus trip, with us stick forever one third of the way through. It was that road trip with those people you called friends, but never really liked.

The bottom of the bottle draws near, but yet I’m too far along to believe I should end it. The last grains of sand are wasted on regret. Don’t hope for anything more than you’ve got. After all, only when we’ve lowered our expectations to where we’ve already met them will we ever be happy with what we’ve got.

I dream of the stars and how one day I will conquer them. I dream of a time where eternity is at my beck and call. It doesn’t matter that she’ll hate me. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. Ultimately I will just take her and even if she will hate our children for the pain they have caused her, the beauty of my love will eclipse the sordid way that I have created everlasting pain and destroyed her hope for redemption.

Delusions of Grandeur

How logical are you as an individual? Chances are that you consider yourself far more logical than you really are. The reason for this is that you (just like everybody else) post rationalise. You apply logic after the fact and then believe that it was always there. Very often we react out of an emotional basis, but then fool ourselves later into believing that it was all done from a completely logical point of view. Though we might not be able to change what we did terribly much (though even that is possible) we can change why we did it.

Our motivations for our actions are largely internal and frequently not immediately shared with those around us. For that reason the only person who could possibly notice them changing is you and, since you never vocalised them, the chance of you noticing that happening is rather slim.

That is especially true considering the weakness of memory. Every single time you remember something, what you’re really doing is remembering the memory as you last remembered it. Yes, that sounds like quite twisted way of saying the same thing, but it isn’t quite. If you remember something you recall it from your memory, bring it into your conscious mind, play around with it and then put it back in your memory. There is no backup copy that remains behind!

Every single time you do that little details change. This is made even easier because, contrary to the common held view, memories are stripped off all but the most essential information so as to make it easier to store them. The rest of the memory isn’t actually memory at all, but simply your imagination filling in the details.

You’d think you’d notice, wouldn’t you? But of course you don’t, because the only thing you have to compare your memory to is, well, it self. You have (as mentioned before) no backup. There is no part of you that’s going ‘but wait a minute, wasn’t her coat red the last time I remembered this?’ because the only thing you have to go by is your memory and if you this time remember her coat as blue, well then it must have been blue all along, mustn’t it?

The only way to compare memories is to look at other people that were there at the same time. These people have their own memories and will frequently have memories quite different from your own. This is, in fact, the proof of changing memories.

So with these memories so easily changed, it becomes easy to make yourself appear much more thoughtful and intelligent, as well as far less emotional and capricious than you really are. Add to that the halo effect (in which we think we’re more special than everybody else for the simple reason that we are the only person we are fully aware of) and you’ve got a situation where you think you performed more reasonably in the past than you did and you predict you’ll behave more reasonably in the future than others.

No wonder complete strangers are almost as good at predicting our future actions as we are.

It's raining men

Today it’s raining. I think it’s been raining softly for most of the day (a very Dutch style of rain where the rain is really fine, almost like mist and you can walk through it, but it’s cold and continuous) but I wouldn’t know as I was asleep for a great part of it.

Last night I was invited to some of the guys’ home who I’ve been hanging out with. They live in two bedrooms somewhere a short distance away from the centre. We sat and talked about everything from the size of the galaxy to good literature and even, dare I say it, gossip. Yes, occasionally even I gossip.

I crashed out there for a couple of hours, then headed back to my new hotel (which has a 24 hour door, a must for me I’ve found) where the managers looked quite surprised to find me walking in at 11 o’clock in the morning. They probably thought I had had a much more adventurous night than I had actually had.

I slept some more and now I’m back near the MG road (short for Mahatma Gandhi Road). It’s three o’clock and I have another suspicion tonight will not end early.

That’s all cool, except I have one important question that I need answered: Where are all the women? It’s very strange for me to hang out in almost completely male company. It seems like the sexes don’t mix very much over here at all. Though there are women about they seem to almost always be either in the company of each other, or in the company of their boyfriends; and this is in one of the most western cities of India.

I’m going to have to figure out how to solve this, because I find idea of remaining womanless for much longer very unappealing. And no, not just in that way. It isn’t always about carnal knowledge, you dirty minded dodger! Well maybe it is a little, but there is more to it than that. I’d like to meet and get to know (in the normal sense, not the biblical one) Indian women. I’d like to understand how they tick and how different they are from the women I’m used to.

So far, almost all the conversations I’ve had with women have been with Western ones. That’s cool, but I already have a reasonable idea about how Western women work. It’s how the South Asians fit together that still mystifies (and therefore intrigues) me.