'Cause Pigs can Fly

*includes major spoilers of Aathma*   Aathma, which aired on Swarnawahini, just ended, leaving me quite lost and confused. I depended on it for ways to win the heart of my Fake Crush. So basically Aathma goes like this. Muthu Manika, who always wears these teensy weensy dresses, lives in a great big walawwa and hates Daham, the boy who works for them. Her hate is really intense, which is a sign that things will change soon because any idiot knows there love behind hate. So one day Muthu Manika is bitten by a snake and Dahan sucks the venom out of her (this scene is a mere excuse for Daham to touch/lick Muthu Manika’s fair legs). Daham is now in a life or death situation, but of course survives and it’s during this time that Muthu Manika realized she loves Daham. While most of us just love from a distance, Muthu Manika doesn’t keep silent. Instead she tells Daham she loves him and when Daham says something like ‘dude, I’m your servant boy. I can’t love you’ she threatens to

My parents, maybe because they were mostly unaware of what we did during the day or because they wanted me to have the same carefree childhood they had, let me spend my days outside, bruising my knees and playing till the night was upon us. They weren’t too picky about what we ate, and I remember eating at McDonalds and also having those various sweets from the shop at the top of our lane. We had a lot of junk food, collected money for soft drinks and had achcharu and rata cadju from little shops. Our lives were simple; we played with mud, let the mosquitoes suck our blood and hadn’t even heard of mosquito repellent. We were mostly barefoot, and rarely wore shoes or slippers. Our clothes were always damp with sweat and we didn’t care about what we had to eat. No one told us back then that certain types of food could give us cancer and we weren’t overweight. We were happy eating fried manyokka, instead of the fancy potato chips. Not that we didn’t have the latter. My parents le

*no spoilers- at least nothing I consider spoilers. If you haven't read the book, the spoiler-ish things won't make sense anyway, and if you have read the book, you probably expect these scenes* I usually despise or at least dislike books adapted into movies. As the number of adaptations increase, my faith in them decrease. This is why I didn't want to watch the Fault in Our Stars movie. What if it turned out to be such a disappointed that I fell out of love with the book? However, despite my lack of excitement about the movie release, I did watch a slightly crappy camera copy of the movie today... And I loved it. Basically, the story is about the relationship between Hazel Grace Lancaster and Augustus Waters. It is not a cancer story. It does not make you feel sorry for them just because of the cancers that have taken over their lives. Instead the story talks about these two people who don't let cancer define them. IMDb says the following about the movie:

I've always had my various issues with belief. At times I was without religion. At times I was a Buddhist. Even now, I'm not sure what I am. But that doesn't matter. Faith is a funny thing. It's something we can't explain. It's trust, hope and so many other things put together. Faith is something that we always have, something we remember during tragedy. I've had faith. Not always though. There were times when I got by without this thing called faith. However, I recently found my self going to the temple more and more. This happened at the beginning of the year, I think. Throughout my life, I rarely visited the temple. Even on poya days, I rarely went. And even if I did, it was for an alms giving or some puja. I never got to really think about the Dhamma. I tend to be skeptical about most temples. They are concrete jungles. They are foreign to me. However, I've been going to more and more previously unvisited temples these days. And they all give me hope

When I wanted to leave, you, instead of telling me not to, gave me reasons to stay. They were the reasons that made me not leave, despite the many reasons that made me not want to stay. When I wasn’t sure if I would ever hear his voice again, you told me I will. Even though I couldn’t help smiling, you told me I would hear his voice again because god always listened and you prayed even though I don’t believe. When I wished for the pain to leave her life, as I poured pot after pot of water onto the giant roots of the bo tree, you couldn’t help smiling. You didn’t see how offering flowers to a lifeless statue would help. When we looked at the setting sun, the fingers of your left hand entangled with the fingers of my right hand, we became true believers. We smiled as we realized that what matters isn’t the gods or doctrine preached centuries ago, but the love that runs through our bodies with the blood our hearts pump.

I’m young. Not young enough to be considered a child, but young enough to be able to use my age as an excuse. I’ve made mistakes and many have been blamed on my age. I’m a child, I’m immature and many would even say I’m childish. I don’t deny this. I believe in this perfect world, which means that even the smallest bit of injustice hits me with full force. The smallest lies, the silliest promises broken often leave me in tears. I can’t deal with grownup issues. I don’t know how to save money, or rather, I don’t understand why I need to. I don’t see why I shouldn’t let the bus conductor or three wheeler driver keep the balance. I don’t see how buying books I may never read is a waste of money. I am often too emotional. I don’t keep my feelings in check. When I’m lost in thought, I don’t think about ending poverty or taking part in the next revolution. Instead, I think about seemingly simple things. Puppies, friends, memories, happiness. Things that really annoy me are s