Book

I have a big, enormous deadline to finish writing my book by 31st July. That's five days away so, quite rightly, I'm panicking like you can't believe.

Panic is subjective though. Some people respond very well to the panic and work very hard.

Others, like me, get paralyse by it and do even less than they're supposed to. So instead of writing, I doodle on Facebook, I do my laundry, I stare at my fish, I look up idiotic things online, I daydream about boys, do more laundry, dry the laundry, fold away the laundry etc. Writing this useless blog post is also a nice form of procrastination.

I like the book actually and when I do start writing it, I do really enjoy it. I just don't have the mettle to keep the momentum.

Okay, I think it's very important that I now go upstairs and have a shower. I'll come back to the writing after that. Really. I promise.

Parties

After a fun night out at Red Box last night, I decided I want to have a karaoke party for my birthday.

Then I started thinking about who I'd invite and it got so complicatd I think I may just give up on the whole idea.

See, there's the 20 liaisons, and the 12 KMP people. If you don't invite everyone, it not very nice. Then when you do invite them, everyone feels obliged to come even though some of them don't like karaoke and would much rather stay home.

Then there's ALL the other people out there that I want to invite, which brings the total up to about 60. And it's a bit ridiculous to have a karaoke party with 60 people because not everyone wants to sing and everyone ends up spending the whole night listening to only about two people singing bad songs.

Not such a good idea then, this karaoke thing.

I think I'll just get a giant cake and eat it all by myself.

Prayer

I'm a bit - well, rather a lot - in love with a boy whose name means Prayer.

Let's talk about him for awhile, just to be self-indulgent. There is this incredible purity about him. The first time I felt my heart get pins and needles for him was when I saw just how devoted he was to Rinpoche. I've seen so many people with amazing faith and believe in Rinpoche but not like this, not this way - he showed me what it would look like to live in a way that was totally surrendered to Dharma.

This is ironic, of course, because I'm in love with someone because of his very devotion to a path that teaches non-attachment and renunciation of worldly affectations.

But affairs of the heart must be complicated, mustn't they? There would be no fun - or corresponding pain - in them, otherwise.

The complications don't end there. Of course they don't. I would pick the most complicated of the lot. He may be straight (for a change) but that doesn't mean it's simple.

You see, now they're telling me that - despite all the purity and faith and incredible devotion - he's still got this one tinnnny attachment - his girlfriend (who, by the way, I had always thought was already an ex-girlfriend). Girlfriend! What girlfriend!

This is after the whole world has been trying to matchmake us, for months. Cruel really, to make someone feel all gooey and happy and stuff, and then tell them that errr, actually, he's not really available. Tease.

The other day, in the midst of conversation about fatness and thinness in general KB said in a not-so-subtle way, "Oh yah. Prayer's girlfriend is very thin."

I felt suddenly very conspicious about my flabby arms and my need to lose 10 pounds.

Then he said, "Prayer misses his girlfriend verrrrrry much."

I blinked *blink blink* and decided then to back off. You cannot compete with an (ex) girlfriend.

I went home, talked to my newly adopted stray cat and spent all night lamenting.

Writing and such stuf

I wonder sometimes if I'd actually get anywhere if I applied myself and bothered to update my blog properly and regularly. Each time I get back on it, I say to myself (and my readers), "This is it! This time shall be different and I shall be diligent about it!"

Which is rubbish of course because I fizz out after a week.

So I shan't make any promises now. I'll just write when I'm bothered, or when there's enough time in between Everything Else.

I am writing things for BuddhistChannel now and it's going very, very slowly. I wonder if maybe getting new laptop would help with the inspiration. It is good sometimes, I think, to be a bit superficial if it motivates you to get proper things done. I think a beautiful new macbook would help me write lots of lovely things.

And inspire the world.

And become Enlightened.

And bring peace to all beings.

I need a macbook. Yes I do.

Paris Hilton

I don't care what people say. I think Paris Hilton is fabulous and very cute. I spent all of yesterday watching back episodes of her (rather crappy) reality show, The Simple Life and her (even crappier) reality competition Paris Hilton's British Best Friend. And in spite of the supposed crapness, it's got me really thinking about how she's got to where she is. Are there valuable lessons in fame we could be learning from Miss Hilton?

Really, everyone should watch Paris Hilton's BBF just as a sociological study of how the world is and what they look up to in This Day and Age. The premise of the show is that 12 people compete to become well, Paris Hilton's new British Best Friend. She puts them through tasks to "test" their loyalty and find out more about their "ability" to keep up with her lifestyle and be her best friend. Silly really, but also quite fascinating to watch - a bit like roadkill.

The kind of awe that the contestants of this show have towards Paris is incredible. They swoon, they gasp and they are absolutely enthralled when she comes into the room. They speak in hyperboles - "When Paris walked into the room," they gush with sheer adoration in their eyes, "It was like the whole room lit up. She looked like AN ANGEL!"

When all's said and done, and even if people the world over despise the very mention of her name, she's still OUT THERE and you can't help but hear about her. She's bloody everywhere. She's now got a perfume line, handbag line, 4 seasons of a reality show, her own reality competition in Britain, an album, a top 10 hit, a modelling history, film roles, and constant media interest. She must be doing something right? Despite being so strongly disliked - usually for her superficiality - she can still safely boast a fan base that goes well into the thousands, all around the world... which is probably a lot more than all of us "very sincere, very real, very genuine" people can say for ourselves, no?

It's interesting really, that there are probably more people in the world who know of her than of celebrities that are actually contributing something back to the world (politicians, philantropists, religious leaders, people who make a difference). When she went into jail awhile ago, newspapers the world over journaled her time in jail. She was right up there in the world news, together with all those others important updates about war and terrorism and genocide in Sudan.

So really, how is it that a rich kid with nothing truly beneficial to offer the world can end up being so widely talked about? Sure, most of the talk is probably negative - people can't stand her - but hey, the only thing worse than being talked (badly) about is not being talked about at all. Paris, for all the plasticity, superficiality, decadence and spoiltness that people dislike her for, is a clever little girl who manages to turn everything to her advantage.

Sex scandal? Exploit the media and ride on the headlines while you're there!

Dumb blonde? Play it up all the more in reality shows where you really get to exaggerate the dumbness for entertainment's sake. You'd have to be pretty wiley and smart to learn how to turn that round to your advantage. If you think she's really that dumb, the joke's on you actually.

Getting thrown in jail? Well, she certainly presents a different, new, interesting type of prison story. Capitalise on it with plenty of worldwide interviews after her jail release and garner lots of sympathy from people who can't bear to see a simpleton blonde girl get thrown behind bars.

Vacuous socialite? At least people are paying attention to this socialite. There are THOUSANDS of socialites the world over and nobody has heard of. You gotta give credit to someone who has made herself famous just from doing what she does best - having fun, partying, living a glamourous life and wearing pretty dresses.

Don't be too quick to diss the candy-coloured blonde. In terms of sales and marketing pitches, we have PLENTY to learn from Miss Hilton.

The Business

Don't laugh, but I'm now learning the Business Side of Things.

This involves things like balance sheets and complex diagrams outlining our marketing strategies, learning the tactics of effective promotion, and being thrown in the deep end of all those people out there: the marketplace.

It's horribly frightening.

But well, books don't sell themselves. It's no good producing beautiful books unless people know about them, buy them and read them. So we're pulling up our business socks and getting out there in the world.

It would be amusing really, if I was a fly on the wall, looking at ourselves with our heads in our hands, muttering and sighing and cringing at our desperate lack of business sense.

This is what it's about, I suppose? Dharma isn't just about doing what you like to do. It certainly isn't all about sitting with our hands on our laps, in an idyllic state of meditation, having psychic tea with the Buddhas.

It's about this constant state of panic that makes you grow (well, I hope I do grow through this exercise), feeling the hard smack of trying something new and falling flat *smack* on your face. You'll never know if you don't try, whisper the guardian angels, before they collapse about us laughing.

Okay, no, not really. I don't suppose Guardian angels really engage in that sort of mockery.

So the whole KMP is working hard to learn in a matter of days what people study through a whole university course. Impossible is nothing, say Adidas and I am inclined to believe them. Positive affirmation is the only way forward as we navigate the tricky paths of business.

Honestly, if only I could find myself a Donald Trump. In my post-it notes to Buddha tonight: Dear Buddha, Please send me a rich husband. It would help an awful, awful lot!

Long locks

I am being ridiculous, I know, as I embark, yet again, on trying to grow my hair out.

When I told my charming housemate of my new great life ambition, he said, matter-of-factly, "You'll look like Ting Tong."

Ting Tong is a short, bald, overweight British man dressed as a Thai mail-order bride, off the hugely acclaimed Little Britain series. Ting Tong looks like this:


Pish. I won't look like Ting Tong. I won't even be growing my hair out that long!

The reason(s) for this deep and profound, life-changing decision is only because
1) I'm tired of waking up every morning and finding my short hair in a total state of disarray.
2) I fancy a boy who told me, in passing, that I should grow my hair out. "It'll be nice!" he said, smilingly.

Actually, it's mostly the second reason and yes, yes, I know how juvenile it all sounds. The very feminist part of me has given a nasty glare, crossly folded her arms and stormed, cursing, out of the room.

But the boy is a special one and I'm going to give this long-locks thing a go for the sake of Harlequin romance and true-love-forever-and-ever. The worse that could happen is I look crap and get mistaken for Ting Tong's twin - nothing that a pair of sharp scissors and wonderful Emil The Stylist at The Met couldn't fix.