Too exhausted to write, so watch this

There are some real gems on YouTube, this is one of them. I think the clip is freakishly accurate - maybe that's because it appeals to my jaded spirit. Enjoy.

Unawatuna

From Black Sand Journal

From Black Sand Journal

From Black Sand Journal

From Black Sand Journal

From Black Sand Journal

From Black Sand Journal

I love it when I get text messages from the government asking me to enlist

"Women Soldier vacancies exist in Volunteer Force of the Sri Lankan Army. Applications close on 31st Dec."

"Home"

The word has a fairly ambiguous meaning in my vocabulary. I'm ethnically Sri Lankan, was born in Vienna, but have never felt happier than when in New York. If I was forced to put down a definition I'd say "where I am going, but never where I am." Home - it definitely has a restless connotation for me.

I'm spending such a short time in Sri Lanka this December, a mere nine days, but it only took a couple of hours after I landed to be woken up to the reality of life here. I'm not sure how many people in New York can expect to find a jeep loaded with fully-uniformed, fully-armed soldiers parked in their garage. I would upload a photo, but I've been warned by several people that soldiers are camera-shy and trigger-happy.

Too Much Time in Airports

From Black Sand Journal

The natural Häagen Dazs reservoir beyond the ferns at Dubai International Airport.

I should live here!

Tree Houses in Madison Square Park!

From Black Sand Journal

Dodging Bullets

From Black Sand Journal

The hardest bullets to dodge are the ones I see coming. The moment of recognition deteriorates into hypnotic fascination before my body expresses a desire to move. Then, BAM. I'm hit. There is blood everywhere. I clumsily grasp at tissues, attending to the crimson mess that my fatal wound is spluttering before I dare admit feeling pain. I've lost so much blood that there is no feeling left.

I suppose there are no easy bullets to dodge, but ignorance serves me better than anticipation. I tend to bring these things upon myself.

Origins

My childhood fascination with black sand is what gives this blog its name. Instead of building castles with it, six year-old Suri would collect the stuff into little plastic buckets with a glorified ice cream scoop and refine black sand in process similar to panning for gold. The result was a titanium-iron oxide called Ilmenite - much to my father's disappointment, that is the last time I cared about anything remotely related to chemistry.

I'm studying Journalism in New York and have made a hobby out of photography (with my super sexy 12M Canon Rebel xSi). The fusion of the two is what you'll find here, with the odd rant.

Ode To Stefhan

Decided to hide this further back in my blog - it was actually written during Summer 2009 and published on August 30th 2009.

Following in the footsteps of Cassius Clay,
I'm not only starting to box,
I wrote you a poem as my personal way
Of declaring, "my friendo rocks!"

You love watching big men fight mano-a-mano
And some people might think that gay,
But I bet you rather mount Gina Carano
(You know I would too any day).

That vlog where we talk about Ellen's clitoris
Might have got us in some trouble,
For those who did not think us so vociferous,
We were bursting quite the bubble.

But our best friendship is defined by jokes like that
And high fives between chats on life,
I know your weapon of choice in single combat
Would be my Dad's kitchen knife.

My sable-haired friendo, what a summer it's been,
I can't measure how much I've changed,
Thanks for keeping me happy, coherent and clean
As opposed to drunk and deranged.

Despite my hundred day liquor-free vacation,
That Ribena-Thambili drink
Must be your greatest mixed-beverage creation,
(It tastes better than one would think).

Though our friendship is usually convivial,
You've also steered me through hard times,
Remember all my problems become trivial,
If the help that you seek is mine.

There is no one else in the world I'm more missing,
I wish you could come back with me,
In an N.Y.C. park one night you'll be pissing,
I promise, friendo, wait and see.