The Sunday Times Mirror Magazine Section

15th October 2000	Front Page\| News/Comment\| Editorial/Opinion\| Plus\| Business\| Sports\| Sports Plus\|

Clothesline We are very happy with the response we've been getting for our 'Clothes Line', but sometimes there is just not enough room to hang all the items we get during the week. So if you don't see yours this week look out for it in the coming weeks. And meanwhile, please keep writing in about all those annoying, intriguing or uplifting experiences or ideas in not more than 350 words. Send in your submissions to, Clothes Line Mirror Magazine C/o Sunday Times No. 8 Hunupitiya Cross Road Colombo 2 Email : clothesline_lk@yahoo.com Love hurts Many times I have been defeated by feelings of lost hope; thoughts of unattainable desires & dreams that may never dawn true. I simply view life as a sea of agony that ebbs and flows with waves of countless heartaches, dusted with remnants of shattered ideals. A path, which I'm to conquer with only an unsteady boat tarnished by a broken heart. Why does life have to be so frustrating? Most of the time it only drains the entire life out of your body, crushing your bones ever so silently. And most of all piercing your heart with the jagged edges of thousand knives. The heartaches of life -the feelings of insecurity, hopelessness, anger and lost love all battered & baked with cold hard reality- is a mystery. Sometimes I feel as if I'm standing solitary upon an open road, with only a bleeding heart blindly guiding me to my destiny. I've heard the saying, "It's better to have loved & lost, than never to have loved at all". But I'm not such a believer. Because love imprisoned me, defeated me and finally stole my soul. I wish I could some how erase all my feelings & emotions, and lock my heart away never to be opened by anyone. Then I would never feel lonely or sad. I would never feel the anxiety of being denied life's most precious joy. I would be immune to life's pains and boundless sorrows. And most of all I would never feel the hurt & pain of loving a man I can't have. S.S. Why change your name? I think it is unfair that a man can call himself Mr. So-and so and get away with it, whereas a woman has to be either Miss or Mrs. Why is it that a man need not tell the world whether he is married or not, whereas a woman must when she gives her name, indicate her marital status? (Using Ms is not a solution because it is often pronounced as "Miss"). How unfair that society demands a girl to give up the name she inherits from her father when she gets married, while a boy can keep his till the end of his life. For the first half of a girl's life she is known in one name, then she must take on the name of the man she marries. Surely this is almost the same as sacrificing one's individuality to become another's slave? I believe the convention that a woman must take on her husband's name when she gets married, should be abolished from the face of the earth forever. After all, sacrificing the name you have lived with, throughout your life,to take on the name of the man you marry is not an indication that you love him more. It merely shows you are walking behind him as his submissive lawful wedded wife and not as his partner, equal in every thing. I don't think Shakespeare was thinking of proper names when he made Juliet say what's in a name? Would not a rose by any other name smell just as sweet? For names do count, and I am going to stick to mine - the one I was born with - to the end of my life, come what may. Paperclip Inanimate communication Life as a student in the US can be described as 'fun and interesting'. Mostly with day-to-day tasks. I do posses a pet peeve for automated answering devices. Especially when I am desperately trying to speak to a human being, preferably in flesh and blood. Corporate America seems to love the automated devices, in order to provide a 24-hour service. One night I started working on a design (I am graphic design student), that was due the following day for a critique and guess what? The printer wouldn't move. It was dead. Before I got frustrated and destroyed the printer, I decided to sleep on the matter. I couldn't sleep a wink. I woke up around 4.00 a.m., and tried again. Started over with troubleshoot (by now I wanted to shoot myself). Nothing helped. The printer is there, almost with an evil smile. I remember banging my head a few times each time I crawled under the table and meddled with the connection and so on. I grabbed the phone and called for HELP.... I finally got through to what seemed like a human voice, which greeted me 'Good evening' at 5.45 a.m. Questions were running though my head like a bunch of bulls at a bullfight. Immediately I decided not to speak much, but simply state what I needed to know. The 'voice' listened silently as I explained my problem...and simply said "Ma'am, please restart the computer." I felt encouraged; at least I wasn't called 'Sir'. As if it was a command from heaven, the printer obliged. It did. I am sure, these inanimate things and voices communicate in a silent language that I will never find out in this lifetime. Jayarangi De Silva Louisiana, USA
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