Trodding on tepid waters
piranha’s nip
and suckle on
freshly brewed blood vessels
hiding in opaque shadows
that hover between doom
and hope, diluted.
Tingling sensations
run up uneasy spines
as we hand in,
yet another pound
of our naked flesh
to the icy stare
of juries.
---
Om Sai Ram.
Please let us be blessed.
Cross your fingers peeps.
One iota of my, our, career expectantly hangs upon the decision that a bunch of judges make in a dark room with free booze.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Hindsight
Light
slithers in stealth
unwittingly blinding
sinful venetian blinds
that adorn
caramel kissed expressions.
You passed me by.
No wayward glance.
No sign of recognition.
Our shadows
hurriedly kissed
hello
and in a flash,
goodbye.
You were me,
two years ago
two peas
trapped
in the requiem
of a broken dream.
And it was then,
my fuscia infused
arms reached
t o s t r a n g l e
your package
of doom.
It had arrived
clandestinely unattended
hand delivered to
hand over
the end
of an era.
i blinked
knowing that I
the savior,
of your sanity –
had slowly
and
surreptitiously
lost mine.
yet,
no arms
fuscia or otherwise
reach out
t o e x o r c i s e
mydemonsoffear.
---
something that demanded to be written.
period.
slithers in stealth
unwittingly blinding
sinful venetian blinds
that adorn
caramel kissed expressions.
You passed me by.
No wayward glance.
No sign of recognition.
Our shadows
hurriedly kissed
hello
and in a flash,
goodbye.
You were me,
two years ago
two peas
trapped
in the requiem
of a broken dream.
And it was then,
my fuscia infused
arms reached
t o s t r a n g l e
your package
of doom.
It had arrived
clandestinely unattended
hand delivered to
hand over
the end
of an era.
i blinked
knowing that I
the savior,
of your sanity –
had slowly
and
surreptitiously
lost mine.
yet,
no arms
fuscia or otherwise
reach out
t o e x o r c i s e
mydemonsoffear.
---
something that demanded to be written.
period.
Monday, March 28, 2005
A pastel rendition
Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.
---
Easter. I recently discovered that Easter is a time of renewal. Jesus Christ, in all his glory, rose from the dead and graced this doomed earthscape with his presence. So the egg reference is totally relevant to new life. The bunny? Not so much.
Church was packed. The intentions were all there though – people dressed up, looking good and ready to celebrate the re-birth of JC. Funnily, the sermon touched on the Da Vinci Code – something about those who choose religion based on an inherent bond vs. those who turn to the facts and are guided by them. According to M’s church, those who fall into the latter category are deemed misfits. M was just grateful that they kyboshed bashing gays during the course of the sermon. I had fun, I mean as much fun as one can have at a place of religious worship.
B taught me a new acronym – CNE – catholics who only go to church on Christmas N Easter. Hehe. Made me cackle with blue blooded Krishna infused joy. Not so righteous innit.
Lunch was divine. R joined us at M’s house. Uncle once again outdid himself. Let me tell you, the man is a culinary rockstar. We trudged through curried duck, coconut rice, ball curry, masala curd, brinjal bake (eek), devil chutney and the yummiest prawns ever. I felt like a blimp after that meal – it certainly was cause enough for celebration. I love M’s home, its so comfy and as R so insightfully pointed out: his folks are like a bunch of teenagers. Full of verve.
After a stuffy meal we picked up R & T, the newest Brit arrivals, who talked our ears off. T’s got so much energy that it baffles me – how does she recharge? After a viewing of Hitch, which im pretty sure the kiddieboppers weren’t really allowed to watch, we picked up their mom and headed to Pickering. Dinner was another hefty meal complete with a second helping of prawns (except my mom can’t touch uncle ronald’s even with a prayer and a miracle – but that’s okay).
Fun, certainly was had by all. A fascinating weekend filled with everything pastel and easter like.
-----
And today, reality sets in.
Wednesday march 30th at 5pm – that’s the deadline for the Young Creatives Contest.
Im freaking out.
B, not so much.
I think im going to beat that punk ass.
Peace.
---
Easter. I recently discovered that Easter is a time of renewal. Jesus Christ, in all his glory, rose from the dead and graced this doomed earthscape with his presence. So the egg reference is totally relevant to new life. The bunny? Not so much.
Church was packed. The intentions were all there though – people dressed up, looking good and ready to celebrate the re-birth of JC. Funnily, the sermon touched on the Da Vinci Code – something about those who choose religion based on an inherent bond vs. those who turn to the facts and are guided by them. According to M’s church, those who fall into the latter category are deemed misfits. M was just grateful that they kyboshed bashing gays during the course of the sermon. I had fun, I mean as much fun as one can have at a place of religious worship.
B taught me a new acronym – CNE – catholics who only go to church on Christmas N Easter. Hehe. Made me cackle with blue blooded Krishna infused joy. Not so righteous innit.
Lunch was divine. R joined us at M’s house. Uncle once again outdid himself. Let me tell you, the man is a culinary rockstar. We trudged through curried duck, coconut rice, ball curry, masala curd, brinjal bake (eek), devil chutney and the yummiest prawns ever. I felt like a blimp after that meal – it certainly was cause enough for celebration. I love M’s home, its so comfy and as R so insightfully pointed out: his folks are like a bunch of teenagers. Full of verve.
After a stuffy meal we picked up R & T, the newest Brit arrivals, who talked our ears off. T’s got so much energy that it baffles me – how does she recharge? After a viewing of Hitch, which im pretty sure the kiddieboppers weren’t really allowed to watch, we picked up their mom and headed to Pickering. Dinner was another hefty meal complete with a second helping of prawns (except my mom can’t touch uncle ronald’s even with a prayer and a miracle – but that’s okay).
Fun, certainly was had by all. A fascinating weekend filled with everything pastel and easter like.
-----
And today, reality sets in.
Wednesday march 30th at 5pm – that’s the deadline for the Young Creatives Contest.
Im freaking out.
B, not so much.
I think im going to beat that punk ass.
Peace.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
A few observations
25 Things Men Shouldn't Find Sexy, But Do
Courtesy of www.ihaveanidea.org - thanks boys!
----
1. BIKE SEATS
Their primary purpose is to be straddled. Is it any wonder we want to be reincarnated as one?
2. GIRLS FIGHTING
Cursing, crying, pulling hair, throwing drinks, abusing bathroom attendants and being convicted of assault: sexy. A mug shot with a tear-streaked face: even sexier.
3. THE AUTOMATED FEMALE VOICE YOU HEAR WHEN YOU DIAL 4-1-1
"I think you said, 'Spank me hard.' Is this correct? To confirm, press 1 or say yes."
4. GYNECOLOGY
Very serious matter, seven years of training, blah, blah, blah...We just want a set of those stirrup things. Think they can be rented for private parties?
5. LEOPARD PRINTS
Because they say, "I really do not care." Just add vodka and Bon Jovi for a down-and-dirty good time.
6. OUR FRIENDS' MOMS
They were hot when we were 13 and didn't know any better. Then we grew out of it - only to grow back into it. We were right the first time.
7. GIRLS HUGGING
Look! Their nipples are almost touching! Damn those blouses!
8. WOMEN DRESSED AS MEN
Either lolling around in our shirts the morning after or doing the full drawn-on-mustache cigar-suit thing. It's like Groucho Marx with a vagina.
9. SHOE-STORE EMPLOYEES TYING YOUR LACES
It was the most mind-blowingly erotic experience of our young lives. Now we have to buy $500 shoes for the pleasure. At least we're smart enough to ask for double knots.
10. FEMALE BARTENDERS
If we passed them on the street, we wouldn't look twice. But put them in a dark room and in charge of beer and suddenly we're babbling idiots. And not just because we're wasted out of our mind. Well, it's not totally because we're wasted out of our mind.
11. FEMALE POLICE OFFICERS
Beneath the stern expression, starched shirt and firearm is the soft, yielding, lightly scented flesh of a woman. A woman who could shoot us if we looked at her the wrong way. Ideally, while we're handcuffed to the headboard.
12. PREGNANT WOMEN
Because their boobs get even bigger. And because they're broadcasting to the entire world that they just had sex.
13. FAT GIRLS
We come for the cleavage. We stay for the sex. We leave in shame - satiated shame.
14. SCHOOLGIRL UNIFORMS
Especially when worn by Japanese girls. White socks optional. Pigtails essential. It's not a fetish if 100 percent of men like it - it's a law of nature.
15. JESSICA RABBIT
If she lets a stuttering bunny take a crack at her, it means we might actually have a chance. But unfortunately, we're not a cartoon. Hear that, Lucy Van Pelt? There's no way that's our baby!
16. HELENA BONHAM CARTER IN PLANET OF THE APES
Yes, a monkey girl. Is that so wrong? Know what? Watch a female ape eat a banana and get back to us.
17. CONDOM INSTRUCTIONS
Not that we need instruction, but the detailed language and explicit diagrams make us want to try it right now. (And don't think we won't.) They're also good for a little light bathroom reading.
18. WOMEN WHO HATE US
Particularly if they've belittled us in front of our friends, called us ugly and/or gay and are going out with much better-looking, manlier men than us. Those girls are as hot as our confidence is shattered.
19. CAROLYN FROM THE APPRENTICE
She's like a female cop, but with an extra dash of fascism.
20. LINGERIE DEPARTMENTS
Not the lingerie itself, but rather the notion that we might get a sales girl so wildly turned on by our blithely fingering the same undies she's wearing that she has to enact her fantasy of raunchy sex with a total stranger in the nearest dressing room. (Preferably, that stranger would be us.)
21. BURQAS
We hear that women who wear them also sport ultrasexy lingerie underneath, reserved for the eyes of their husbands. Now that's all we can think about. Allah, please forgive us! And angry husbands, don't stone us!
22. TAN LINES
The pale parts look even more naked next to the tanned parts. This also works with sock marks and bra indentations.
23. FEMALE COLLEAGUES BENDING OVER
You respect her. She respects you. Then you stare at her ass crack like it's the Grand Canyon.
24. VISIBLE PANTY LINES
Because they're visible! And they're panties!
25. HORSEBACK RIDING
Expert thighs clamped around hard, quivering muscle? Ass-whipping? Steamy snorting? Notorious for giving young women their first orgasms? Bareback and mounting? If that's not sublimated sex, then neither is Kathy Bates' nude hot-tub scene in About Schmidt.
And as an added bonus, in the extended entry are Five Things We Should Find Sexy...But Don't.
1. FEMALE EJACULATION
The only thing she should be squirting is perfume. Or mace.
2. SEX AND THE CITY
One's an actual lesbian, and they don't even work it in? We wuz robbed!
3. WOMEN WHO LIKE FOOTBALL
Next thing you know, they'll be farting and stealing our Cheetos.
4. SPOONING
Cuddling is only hot when penetration is involved.
5. JULIA ROBERTS
Unless you have a horse fetish.
----
Yup, you never know when one of em might come in handy.
Cheersch to a good weekend.
Courtesy of www.ihaveanidea.org - thanks boys!
----
1. BIKE SEATS
Their primary purpose is to be straddled. Is it any wonder we want to be reincarnated as one?
2. GIRLS FIGHTING
Cursing, crying, pulling hair, throwing drinks, abusing bathroom attendants and being convicted of assault: sexy. A mug shot with a tear-streaked face: even sexier.
3. THE AUTOMATED FEMALE VOICE YOU HEAR WHEN YOU DIAL 4-1-1
"I think you said, 'Spank me hard.' Is this correct? To confirm, press 1 or say yes."
4. GYNECOLOGY
Very serious matter, seven years of training, blah, blah, blah...We just want a set of those stirrup things. Think they can be rented for private parties?
5. LEOPARD PRINTS
Because they say, "I really do not care." Just add vodka and Bon Jovi for a down-and-dirty good time.
6. OUR FRIENDS' MOMS
They were hot when we were 13 and didn't know any better. Then we grew out of it - only to grow back into it. We were right the first time.
7. GIRLS HUGGING
Look! Their nipples are almost touching! Damn those blouses!
8. WOMEN DRESSED AS MEN
Either lolling around in our shirts the morning after or doing the full drawn-on-mustache cigar-suit thing. It's like Groucho Marx with a vagina.
9. SHOE-STORE EMPLOYEES TYING YOUR LACES
It was the most mind-blowingly erotic experience of our young lives. Now we have to buy $500 shoes for the pleasure. At least we're smart enough to ask for double knots.
10. FEMALE BARTENDERS
If we passed them on the street, we wouldn't look twice. But put them in a dark room and in charge of beer and suddenly we're babbling idiots. And not just because we're wasted out of our mind. Well, it's not totally because we're wasted out of our mind.
11. FEMALE POLICE OFFICERS
Beneath the stern expression, starched shirt and firearm is the soft, yielding, lightly scented flesh of a woman. A woman who could shoot us if we looked at her the wrong way. Ideally, while we're handcuffed to the headboard.
12. PREGNANT WOMEN
Because their boobs get even bigger. And because they're broadcasting to the entire world that they just had sex.
13. FAT GIRLS
We come for the cleavage. We stay for the sex. We leave in shame - satiated shame.
14. SCHOOLGIRL UNIFORMS
Especially when worn by Japanese girls. White socks optional. Pigtails essential. It's not a fetish if 100 percent of men like it - it's a law of nature.
15. JESSICA RABBIT
If she lets a stuttering bunny take a crack at her, it means we might actually have a chance. But unfortunately, we're not a cartoon. Hear that, Lucy Van Pelt? There's no way that's our baby!
16. HELENA BONHAM CARTER IN PLANET OF THE APES
Yes, a monkey girl. Is that so wrong? Know what? Watch a female ape eat a banana and get back to us.
17. CONDOM INSTRUCTIONS
Not that we need instruction, but the detailed language and explicit diagrams make us want to try it right now. (And don't think we won't.) They're also good for a little light bathroom reading.
18. WOMEN WHO HATE US
Particularly if they've belittled us in front of our friends, called us ugly and/or gay and are going out with much better-looking, manlier men than us. Those girls are as hot as our confidence is shattered.
19. CAROLYN FROM THE APPRENTICE
She's like a female cop, but with an extra dash of fascism.
20. LINGERIE DEPARTMENTS
Not the lingerie itself, but rather the notion that we might get a sales girl so wildly turned on by our blithely fingering the same undies she's wearing that she has to enact her fantasy of raunchy sex with a total stranger in the nearest dressing room. (Preferably, that stranger would be us.)
21. BURQAS
We hear that women who wear them also sport ultrasexy lingerie underneath, reserved for the eyes of their husbands. Now that's all we can think about. Allah, please forgive us! And angry husbands, don't stone us!
22. TAN LINES
The pale parts look even more naked next to the tanned parts. This also works with sock marks and bra indentations.
23. FEMALE COLLEAGUES BENDING OVER
You respect her. She respects you. Then you stare at her ass crack like it's the Grand Canyon.
24. VISIBLE PANTY LINES
Because they're visible! And they're panties!
25. HORSEBACK RIDING
Expert thighs clamped around hard, quivering muscle? Ass-whipping? Steamy snorting? Notorious for giving young women their first orgasms? Bareback and mounting? If that's not sublimated sex, then neither is Kathy Bates' nude hot-tub scene in About Schmidt.
And as an added bonus, in the extended entry are Five Things We Should Find Sexy...But Don't.
1. FEMALE EJACULATION
The only thing she should be squirting is perfume. Or mace.
2. SEX AND THE CITY
One's an actual lesbian, and they don't even work it in? We wuz robbed!
3. WOMEN WHO LIKE FOOTBALL
Next thing you know, they'll be farting and stealing our Cheetos.
4. SPOONING
Cuddling is only hot when penetration is involved.
5. JULIA ROBERTS
Unless you have a horse fetish.
----
Yup, you never know when one of em might come in handy.
Cheersch to a good weekend.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Inspired invective: A dissection of March 21st 2005
Live up to your own expectations.
Always be hungry.
Never chase money.
Beware that money chased often handcuffs you to complacency.
Chase perfection – in thought, ideas, exploration, execution.
Work as hard and as tirelessly as you can to achieve what you want.
Fall in love with your first idea but explore atleast one hundred others.
Realize that bad briefs, no time, sucky budgets are merely excuses that the mediocre hide behind.
Take everything about an idea personally.
Never take office politics, creative hierarchies or the drama of creative departments to bed with you.
If you must stay awake – do it for the love of that singular thought.
Get as close to the idea as you can. And plant your feet there.
Be humble, always.
Never be content with good enough.
Always keep your goals in mind.
Embrace risks, always. It’s the only surety in this lifetime.
Realize that ego and insecurity are two constants in a creative persons life.
They don’t leave so you might as well learn to bed ‘em both.
Fight for the ideas you believe in.
Always have one brief that is an opportunity on your desk.
Never forget: you get paid to influence pop culture.
Advertising isn’t the be all and end all of everything – but it could be the greatest experience in your life.
Leadership is a direct result of cultivating your gut.
Observe people and realize that emotions are the only things that are consistent, globally.
Know the infinite interpretations rise from those very finite emotions and explore them.
Learn to manipulate the tone and feeling of those emotions to fit your product.
Exploration can be tiresome but it’s a necessary evil for those with aspirations.
This is not art. It is problem solving for big businesses. Don’t forget that.
Trust your instinct to inspire trust in your clients.
Trusting clients feel secure relinquishing control to your instincts.
Be grateful for the people that fill your day with authenticity.
Inspiration is life. Full Stop.
Fight for what you know the client needs-not for what will win you an award.
Make things real and keep things real. Simplicity is golden.
Advertising mimics real life – nice guys don’t finish last.
To be a great creative director – you have to prove yourself to your creative department – junior or senior.
Be humble, it helps.
Never expect others to do things that you wouldn’t dream of doing yourself.
Kill the demon of complacency.
Don’t settle for “good enough” – it’s your job to instill hope, faith and trust in your creative department.
Always put yourself on the line.
This is a business not an art form. Perspire to be inspired.
You will never have enough time.
Fighting it will change nothing, especially if you want to be the best.
Success comes with its own set of sacrifices.
If that’s a regret, this won’t be a ‘life changing’ experience for you.
Be grateful for the opportunity to live this life.
This industry is inherently good, when you’re in it for the right reasons.
And most importantly,
Have fun and laugh a lot.
Until your sides hurt.
And you pee yourself.
And when that feeling stops and you can’t remember why you got into this business:
GET OUT.
- courtesy of Black Bag’s interview with David Droga.
Inspiration does come in small packages.
I refuse to wash the hand that shook the hand of a man who has made his mark on our journey.
B & I are truly grateful for having had this opportunity.
R, thanks for listening to me ramble on and on and on and on about my Australian Idol.
M, thank you for the ride, the conversation and the pat on the back.
Tonight, reaffirmed everything we inherently knew and gave us the warm and fuzzies.
Gosh, I love advertising.
Respect.
Always be hungry.
Never chase money.
Beware that money chased often handcuffs you to complacency.
Chase perfection – in thought, ideas, exploration, execution.
Work as hard and as tirelessly as you can to achieve what you want.
Fall in love with your first idea but explore atleast one hundred others.
Realize that bad briefs, no time, sucky budgets are merely excuses that the mediocre hide behind.
Take everything about an idea personally.
Never take office politics, creative hierarchies or the drama of creative departments to bed with you.
If you must stay awake – do it for the love of that singular thought.
Get as close to the idea as you can. And plant your feet there.
Be humble, always.
Never be content with good enough.
Always keep your goals in mind.
Embrace risks, always. It’s the only surety in this lifetime.
Realize that ego and insecurity are two constants in a creative persons life.
They don’t leave so you might as well learn to bed ‘em both.
Fight for the ideas you believe in.
Always have one brief that is an opportunity on your desk.
Never forget: you get paid to influence pop culture.
Advertising isn’t the be all and end all of everything – but it could be the greatest experience in your life.
Leadership is a direct result of cultivating your gut.
Observe people and realize that emotions are the only things that are consistent, globally.
Know the infinite interpretations rise from those very finite emotions and explore them.
Learn to manipulate the tone and feeling of those emotions to fit your product.
Exploration can be tiresome but it’s a necessary evil for those with aspirations.
This is not art. It is problem solving for big businesses. Don’t forget that.
Trust your instinct to inspire trust in your clients.
Trusting clients feel secure relinquishing control to your instincts.
Be grateful for the people that fill your day with authenticity.
Inspiration is life. Full Stop.
Fight for what you know the client needs-not for what will win you an award.
Make things real and keep things real. Simplicity is golden.
Advertising mimics real life – nice guys don’t finish last.
To be a great creative director – you have to prove yourself to your creative department – junior or senior.
Be humble, it helps.
Never expect others to do things that you wouldn’t dream of doing yourself.
Kill the demon of complacency.
Don’t settle for “good enough” – it’s your job to instill hope, faith and trust in your creative department.
Always put yourself on the line.
This is a business not an art form. Perspire to be inspired.
You will never have enough time.
Fighting it will change nothing, especially if you want to be the best.
Success comes with its own set of sacrifices.
If that’s a regret, this won’t be a ‘life changing’ experience for you.
Be grateful for the opportunity to live this life.
This industry is inherently good, when you’re in it for the right reasons.
And most importantly,
Have fun and laugh a lot.
Until your sides hurt.
And you pee yourself.
And when that feeling stops and you can’t remember why you got into this business:
GET OUT.
- courtesy of Black Bag’s interview with David Droga.
Inspiration does come in small packages.
I refuse to wash the hand that shook the hand of a man who has made his mark on our journey.
B & I are truly grateful for having had this opportunity.
R, thanks for listening to me ramble on and on and on and on about my Australian Idol.
M, thank you for the ride, the conversation and the pat on the back.
Tonight, reaffirmed everything we inherently knew and gave us the warm and fuzzies.
Gosh, I love advertising.
Respect.
Monday, March 21, 2005
My favorite letter in the alphabet:
D.
Folks, David Droga is in town. And little ole star struck me will be there drooling in the sidelines, as he speaks his piece.
i love it.
today, life is suspended in a pregnant pause.
liberation: 6pm at Second City.
sweeet.
Folks, David Droga is in town. And little ole star struck me will be there drooling in the sidelines, as he speaks his piece.
i love it.
today, life is suspended in a pregnant pause.
liberation: 6pm at Second City.
sweeet.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Twice in a day
who would've thunk it?
well, this just in:
Today (March 18th) is the last day of winter.
The day after tomorrow (March 20th) is the first day of spring.
so my question: what the hell happened to saturday? is it the last day of Wing?
im confoooosed people - more confoooosed than a child in a dark scary cave filled with wombats and the sasquatch!
J
well, this just in:
Today (March 18th) is the last day of winter.
The day after tomorrow (March 20th) is the first day of spring.
so my question: what the hell happened to saturday? is it the last day of Wing?
im confoooosed people - more confoooosed than a child in a dark scary cave filled with wombats and the sasquatch!
J
Through the tunnel
I found that elusive flicker of light.
After a much needed conversation- M and I have come to the conclusion that we cannot bear to be without each other. Not out of desperation. Not out of a sense of need. But mainly because he truly is one piece of the puzzle that makes me who I am. And gratefully, I discovered that he felt the exact same way.
It’s amazing how a little bit of reality, space and perspective can totally transform a situation and leave it re-newed. Amongst all the serious and extremely real issues that we ran through, one that surprised me was this: M felt that my blog slandered him. That I went out of my way to make him look like a horrible guy. I painted him in the colors of a villain and left him handcuffed in the middle of a highway.
But truth is, that wasn't my intention.
Verbal Nirvana, is merely my outlet. A dialogue that I conduct with the many facets that exist within me – the public me, the private me, the advertising me, the emotional me, the daughter, the sister, the girlfriend, the writer etc – a way of making sense of the rollercoaster ride that is my existence. I say this by ways of clarifying a few things:
1. Everything on this blog is my perception ONLY.
2. As a writer and a self diagnosed manic depressive with hints of ADD – some of the invective is born from a truly selfish and overly dramatic place. But that's okay. Only because this is my arena to voice my emotions, air out my dirty laundry and deal with my dramatic episodes.
3. My friends, my family and all the other things in my life are only displayed relatively – in relation to my day, my mood, my temperamental state of being. They wouldn't mean so much to me if they weren't tremendously fine people who were chock full of goodness.
4. VN is merely a conversation that I have with myself. A conversation that the nearest and dearest ones in my life are privy to. My way of writing every day. My way of maintaining sanity. My way of crafting my life.
So in conclusion, M, I wasn’t trying to slander you. Nobody hates you. If anything, I was bombarded by tremendous amounts of advise to treat you nice and be good to you because you are nothing but goodness. Of course we have fundamental differences and that’s what makes us work so well together. And sometimes, that’s exactly what drives us apart. And that’s okay. Being frustrated and venting is okay. Being selfish and slandering – not so much.
Here is my apology not for slandering you (because I truly wasn’t trying to) but for the simple fact that you felt tremendously uncomfortable. I'm sorry for making you feel any sense of discomfort through the words i so selfishly spew on this page.
Thank you for understanding my selfish needs to live an advertising driven life. And thank you for letting me learn that when I love something/someone completely that I too can be selfless. Who would’ve thought that could be possible!
So folks, all is well in the world of Jana. All is sublime, surreal and has set itself back to the normalcy of life. I love being loved for being the broken me that I am.
----
Cultural observations:
1. Moms always over-complicate situations
2. People are still using WALKMANS – yup, tape players – not because they can’t afford to buy a discman or an mp3 player but because a walkman reminds them of their youth – yeah.
3. When you stand right up against the subway door – you see the depth of that dark tunnel and your wide-eyed reflection – firmly planted in an abyss of motion. But have you ever tried to escape the blank stare of your own eyes and look past it? It’s hard folks, it’s harder than it needs to be. I find myself transfixed by the person that stares right back at me – my twin in every sense of the word but for once, you see the emotion in her eyes. It’s surreal, this is yet another indication that people are born with a healthy sense of vanity. We find ourselves haunted by our own image.
4. I always seem to have these pre-recorded conversations with people that go something like this:
Hey, How are you?
Good thanks, and you?
Good thanks.
Yup. And the sad part is …to some people that’s all I’ve ever said. I’m sure they’re wonderful young men and women but, I’ve never tried to look past the veneer. Never cared to. Next week, that’s my resolution. I’m going to start a conversation with someone that I normally wouldn’t speak to.
It sure is something to think about innit?
Respect.
After a much needed conversation- M and I have come to the conclusion that we cannot bear to be without each other. Not out of desperation. Not out of a sense of need. But mainly because he truly is one piece of the puzzle that makes me who I am. And gratefully, I discovered that he felt the exact same way.
It’s amazing how a little bit of reality, space and perspective can totally transform a situation and leave it re-newed. Amongst all the serious and extremely real issues that we ran through, one that surprised me was this: M felt that my blog slandered him. That I went out of my way to make him look like a horrible guy. I painted him in the colors of a villain and left him handcuffed in the middle of a highway.
But truth is, that wasn't my intention.
Verbal Nirvana, is merely my outlet. A dialogue that I conduct with the many facets that exist within me – the public me, the private me, the advertising me, the emotional me, the daughter, the sister, the girlfriend, the writer etc – a way of making sense of the rollercoaster ride that is my existence. I say this by ways of clarifying a few things:
1. Everything on this blog is my perception ONLY.
2. As a writer and a self diagnosed manic depressive with hints of ADD – some of the invective is born from a truly selfish and overly dramatic place. But that's okay. Only because this is my arena to voice my emotions, air out my dirty laundry and deal with my dramatic episodes.
3. My friends, my family and all the other things in my life are only displayed relatively – in relation to my day, my mood, my temperamental state of being. They wouldn't mean so much to me if they weren't tremendously fine people who were chock full of goodness.
4. VN is merely a conversation that I have with myself. A conversation that the nearest and dearest ones in my life are privy to. My way of writing every day. My way of maintaining sanity. My way of crafting my life.
So in conclusion, M, I wasn’t trying to slander you. Nobody hates you. If anything, I was bombarded by tremendous amounts of advise to treat you nice and be good to you because you are nothing but goodness. Of course we have fundamental differences and that’s what makes us work so well together. And sometimes, that’s exactly what drives us apart. And that’s okay. Being frustrated and venting is okay. Being selfish and slandering – not so much.
Here is my apology not for slandering you (because I truly wasn’t trying to) but for the simple fact that you felt tremendously uncomfortable. I'm sorry for making you feel any sense of discomfort through the words i so selfishly spew on this page.
Thank you for understanding my selfish needs to live an advertising driven life. And thank you for letting me learn that when I love something/someone completely that I too can be selfless. Who would’ve thought that could be possible!
So folks, all is well in the world of Jana. All is sublime, surreal and has set itself back to the normalcy of life. I love being loved for being the broken me that I am.
----
Cultural observations:
1. Moms always over-complicate situations
2. People are still using WALKMANS – yup, tape players – not because they can’t afford to buy a discman or an mp3 player but because a walkman reminds them of their youth – yeah.
3. When you stand right up against the subway door – you see the depth of that dark tunnel and your wide-eyed reflection – firmly planted in an abyss of motion. But have you ever tried to escape the blank stare of your own eyes and look past it? It’s hard folks, it’s harder than it needs to be. I find myself transfixed by the person that stares right back at me – my twin in every sense of the word but for once, you see the emotion in her eyes. It’s surreal, this is yet another indication that people are born with a healthy sense of vanity. We find ourselves haunted by our own image.
4. I always seem to have these pre-recorded conversations with people that go something like this:
Hey, How are you?
Good thanks, and you?
Good thanks.
Yup. And the sad part is …to some people that’s all I’ve ever said. I’m sure they’re wonderful young men and women but, I’ve never tried to look past the veneer. Never cared to. Next week, that’s my resolution. I’m going to start a conversation with someone that I normally wouldn’t speak to.
It sure is something to think about innit?
Respect.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Out of sorts
and on unfamiliar ground, i find myself gently treading on unearthed half-truths.
M - gosh, i miss you dude. But I've given you the space you need to reclaim what is yours. And at the end of that journey, if you miss me and see me as yet another piece in that puzzle that is you - i will be waiting. Right here. In cyber-space: where life begins, ends and replays that cycle in different rhythmic patterns.
R's man R: from now on my three precious R's will be known as Rcubed. You will never be forgotten. And in my booty-splitting list i would like to also give you my sister - and dude, it doesn't get any sweeter than that.
My head is out of the clouds now. I apologize for the cheesy-overly dramatic invective from yesterday. For those who held my hand as I made my way through the maze - my undying gratitude is once again left at your doorstep. Thank you for being everything you guys are.
Relationships are finicky lil buggers - they shroud themselves deceptively letting you believe that things should be easy, breezy and beautiful. But reality escapes that format. Relationships are work. Tremendous amounts of back breaking, soul shaking, sweat inducing labour. And sometimes, love without the labour is just not enough.
Ten things I've discovered in the last 48 hours:
10. Expectations reek of last-nights memories - they are what they are but they refuse to guarantee anything.
09. It's the ones that love you that hurt you the most. There is no escaping pain when your life is filled with love.
08. Disappointment festers and it's far worse than ire. There is no erasing the memory of another gash on your ticker.
07. Loyal friends like loyal blogs put up with your ass through the best and worst of times.
06. Nobody owes you anything in this life. Regardless, of what they might believe.
05. Sacrificing you to be happy with someone else doesn't bode well for a relationship with longevity.
04. The only person who puts you above everything else - has to be you. Yet another condition of our debased humanity.
03. Regardless of popular belief, your heart does feel pain. That convulsing, sinking, airless feeling is but the indicator.
02. A difference of opinion/expectations doesn't kill the love you feel for someone - it either strengthens or weakens it.
01. Sometimes you have to believe that everything will be okay, as long as you've given it 150% of a fighting chance to survive. Oh and never settle - never ever ever ever settle.
Sometimes, i wish i could just curl into bed with my elephant and cry my spirit out. It's worn down folks, tired/exhausted and desperately in need of a break.
I wish..
i wish...
*sigh*
I really do wish this numbness would make a getaway.
Faith.
(its the only thing that keeps me going)
M - gosh, i miss you dude. But I've given you the space you need to reclaim what is yours. And at the end of that journey, if you miss me and see me as yet another piece in that puzzle that is you - i will be waiting. Right here. In cyber-space: where life begins, ends and replays that cycle in different rhythmic patterns.
R's man R: from now on my three precious R's will be known as Rcubed. You will never be forgotten. And in my booty-splitting list i would like to also give you my sister - and dude, it doesn't get any sweeter than that.
My head is out of the clouds now. I apologize for the cheesy-overly dramatic invective from yesterday. For those who held my hand as I made my way through the maze - my undying gratitude is once again left at your doorstep. Thank you for being everything you guys are.
Relationships are finicky lil buggers - they shroud themselves deceptively letting you believe that things should be easy, breezy and beautiful. But reality escapes that format. Relationships are work. Tremendous amounts of back breaking, soul shaking, sweat inducing labour. And sometimes, love without the labour is just not enough.
Ten things I've discovered in the last 48 hours:
10. Expectations reek of last-nights memories - they are what they are but they refuse to guarantee anything.
09. It's the ones that love you that hurt you the most. There is no escaping pain when your life is filled with love.
08. Disappointment festers and it's far worse than ire. There is no erasing the memory of another gash on your ticker.
07. Loyal friends like loyal blogs put up with your ass through the best and worst of times.
06. Nobody owes you anything in this life. Regardless, of what they might believe.
05. Sacrificing you to be happy with someone else doesn't bode well for a relationship with longevity.
04. The only person who puts you above everything else - has to be you. Yet another condition of our debased humanity.
03. Regardless of popular belief, your heart does feel pain. That convulsing, sinking, airless feeling is but the indicator.
02. A difference of opinion/expectations doesn't kill the love you feel for someone - it either strengthens or weakens it.
01. Sometimes you have to believe that everything will be okay, as long as you've given it 150% of a fighting chance to survive. Oh and never settle - never ever ever ever settle.
Sometimes, i wish i could just curl into bed with my elephant and cry my spirit out. It's worn down folks, tired/exhausted and desperately in need of a break.
I wish..
i wish...
*sigh*
I really do wish this numbness would make a getaway.
Faith.
(its the only thing that keeps me going)
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Verbal Therapy.
Love.
A funny little word with a plethora of connotations attached to it.
A word that leaves most of us in a life long pursuit to attain, own, maintain or simply experience it’s worth.
A word that is highly sought after regardless of age, ethnicity, religion or socio-economic status – a word that unites us all in this eternal search.
A word that country singers, rock stars and R&B divas croon about and make their millions with.
A word that acts as a catalyst and motivates a ceaseless search to own that entirely ambiguous-totally subjective feeling.
A word that is truly a mutha-effin conundrum.
According to Webster (the dictionary not the dude) Love can be defined as the following:
love n
1. an intense feeling of tender affection and compassion
2. a passionate feeling of romantic desire and sexual attraction
3. somebody who is loved romantically
4. a romantic affair, possibly sexual
5. strong liking for or pleasure gained from something
6. something that elicits deep interest and enthusiasm in somebody
7. used as an affectionate word to somebody loved
Mind you, that’s just the first 7 definitions in a list of close to 40.
One word.
Forty different ways of documentation.
One Gazillion ways of interpretation.
No wonder, I’m confused. I mean, who wouldn’t be?
Definition 1: An intense feeling of tender affection and compassion.
My family (both genetic and chosen), My Friends
Definition 2: a passionate feeling of romantic desire and sexual attraction
My beloved M – who is of the belief that I love my work more than I love him. If he only knew the half of it, he wouldn’t be so quick to spew his insecurities upon this canvas of our mutual admiration.
Definition 3: somebody who is loved romantically
My sisters (not incestually. Not sexually. But wholly – like tomorrow would cease to exist if they didn’t fill my today)
M (to punk off a song: truly,madly,deeply and passionately)
Definition 4: a romantic affair, possibly sexual
Yup, M again.
Definition 5: strong liking for or pleasure gained from something
My work. The extension of myself. The verbiage that acts as the lyrics in my song. My cocoon of truth. My coming home. My place of comfort, power and passion. All mine. And fully immersed in the essence that is me.
Definition 6: something that elicits deep interest and enthusiasm in somebody
My life.
My family.
My friends.
Books
Sunshine
People
Warm sand
Blue water
Truffles
Words
Writing
Shoes
Winners
Advertising
Gosh, the list goes on and on and on.
Definition 7: used as an affectionate word to somebody loved
Last used on M, R, R, R, Appa, Amma, Sparky, Trixie, B and whoever it unwittingly and subconsciously graces.
All this by ways of leading into March 15, 2005.
-----
Love.
My life seems so full of it.
Yet, yesterday I realized one more thing: It just isn’t enough.
There aren’t enough hours in the day to love myself, my family, my boyfriend, my work without letting the ball drop on something. The other side of love happens to be hate. Or is it envy? I’d much rather believe that it’s the timing that breaks into my cocoon of peace that either one of those demons.
For once in 27 years I’m ecstatic. I have everything I ever wanted, imagined, dreamt for myself. I have a great family. I have the strength to stand up for myself and my beliefs. I have a man who absolutely adores me. I have a job that lets me live the dream. I have friends who act as legions of courage. I have peace of mind. I absolutely adore my life. And yesterday, M tried to take it all away from me.
Apparently, I’m afflicted.
The disease: a case of imbalance.
Apparently, I need to figure things out and fix it.
The cure: time management.
But how on god’s green effin earth, do you balance how much time and work you put into the things you love? When I was unemployed and depressed, M suffered through my incessant neediness. The way I clung to him for dear life as if he was the savior. And inadvertently, he became my strength. One more person who solidified and validated my dreams.
Now, I don’t cling enough. I don’t give him the attention he so desperately craves. Apparently, now, I’ve forgotten my love for him and chosen the world of advertising.
I wonder if he realizes that he is yet another extension of my family. Another extenstion of me. Another piece of the puzzle that defines my existence.
Chosen. Hand-picked. After years of scouring through frogs, making out with monkeys and walking away with nothing but a feeling of relief – I found love.
A man that I never have to tolerate because I enjoy being around him.
A man that leaves me yearning to spend more time with him, to build a life together.
But – I refuse to give up what my Appa slaved for. I refuse to give up what kept me up at night in tears. I refuse to give up the hard work and the dedication that it took to get here. I refuse to walk away from the only thing that belongs to me – fully. My words are my power. Advertising my vehicle. And for a man that claims to love me, M, silently asked me for the unthinkable.
Yet, another condition of humanity. Nothing can be perfect for too long because that angers the powers that be. And from their wrath comes my chaos,
I want it all folks. And whoever said that you can’t have your cake and eat it too – sure didn’t understand the relativity of that statement. Sure you can – especially when you’re in Costco – holding on to the cake you will buy and sampling a piece from the nice lady at the counter. That’s all this game is about – that’s life in a muthaeffin nutshell. A sampling of experiences before moksha (nirvana/the ascension – call it what you will).
Love cannot and should not be custom designed for comfort, unless that comes standard of course. You can’t choose the people you fall in love with and they in turn, don’t choose your destiny. But love, is work. And love is patience. And love is knowing when to hold on tight and when to let go when need be – secure in the knowledge that it will return. I will always return to my spot on your shoulder dude – don’t you get it?
Love isn’t coming home at 5 every night to hang out. Love isn’t being able to cater to someone’s needs all the time. Love isn’t a necessity folks – love is a mutha effin bonus. And once you realize that – you don’t take it for granted. And you don’t have to give up who you are to hold on to it. Because it will – just be. It grows, matures and binds you not by your longing for it – but by the secure knowledge that it exists so seamlessly in your life. And with the good comes the bad and the ugly. So what? Everything good in this life has a god damn price. And I refuse to barter about something so imperative to my existence. I need you because I love wanting you – and this is what I refuse to do.
M, I refuse to voluntarily walk away from you because I’m happy with my life.
M, I refuse to voluntarily let you go because you want comfort.
M, I refuse to let you convince me that I don’t know how to love you
M, I refuse to let you instigate the evil meanderings of doubt
I love you dude. The best way I know how.
M, I need you to realize that life is hard and love shouldn’t be easy and it isn’t.
But most of all M – I refuse to stop you from doing what you need to do.
And what does that mean for me? I will hold a match up to everything we’ve shared (been blessed to share), in the crevices of my memory and gratefully sustain it for life. I’ve never loved anyone that I wasn’t born with – as much as I love you. Unfortunately, I’ve got to love myself first.
Exhaustion. Verbal vomits are tough and sometimes, necessary.
Be Blessed.
A funny little word with a plethora of connotations attached to it.
A word that leaves most of us in a life long pursuit to attain, own, maintain or simply experience it’s worth.
A word that is highly sought after regardless of age, ethnicity, religion or socio-economic status – a word that unites us all in this eternal search.
A word that country singers, rock stars and R&B divas croon about and make their millions with.
A word that acts as a catalyst and motivates a ceaseless search to own that entirely ambiguous-totally subjective feeling.
A word that is truly a mutha-effin conundrum.
According to Webster (the dictionary not the dude) Love can be defined as the following:
love n
1. an intense feeling of tender affection and compassion
2. a passionate feeling of romantic desire and sexual attraction
3. somebody who is loved romantically
4. a romantic affair, possibly sexual
5. strong liking for or pleasure gained from something
6. something that elicits deep interest and enthusiasm in somebody
7. used as an affectionate word to somebody loved
Mind you, that’s just the first 7 definitions in a list of close to 40.
One word.
Forty different ways of documentation.
One Gazillion ways of interpretation.
No wonder, I’m confused. I mean, who wouldn’t be?
Definition 1: An intense feeling of tender affection and compassion.
My family (both genetic and chosen), My Friends
Definition 2: a passionate feeling of romantic desire and sexual attraction
My beloved M – who is of the belief that I love my work more than I love him. If he only knew the half of it, he wouldn’t be so quick to spew his insecurities upon this canvas of our mutual admiration.
Definition 3: somebody who is loved romantically
My sisters (not incestually. Not sexually. But wholly – like tomorrow would cease to exist if they didn’t fill my today)
M (to punk off a song: truly,madly,deeply and passionately)
Definition 4: a romantic affair, possibly sexual
Yup, M again.
Definition 5: strong liking for or pleasure gained from something
My work. The extension of myself. The verbiage that acts as the lyrics in my song. My cocoon of truth. My coming home. My place of comfort, power and passion. All mine. And fully immersed in the essence that is me.
Definition 6: something that elicits deep interest and enthusiasm in somebody
My life.
My family.
My friends.
Books
Sunshine
People
Warm sand
Blue water
Truffles
Words
Writing
Shoes
Winners
Advertising
Gosh, the list goes on and on and on.
Definition 7: used as an affectionate word to somebody loved
Last used on M, R, R, R, Appa, Amma, Sparky, Trixie, B and whoever it unwittingly and subconsciously graces.
All this by ways of leading into March 15, 2005.
-----
Love.
My life seems so full of it.
Yet, yesterday I realized one more thing: It just isn’t enough.
There aren’t enough hours in the day to love myself, my family, my boyfriend, my work without letting the ball drop on something. The other side of love happens to be hate. Or is it envy? I’d much rather believe that it’s the timing that breaks into my cocoon of peace that either one of those demons.
For once in 27 years I’m ecstatic. I have everything I ever wanted, imagined, dreamt for myself. I have a great family. I have the strength to stand up for myself and my beliefs. I have a man who absolutely adores me. I have a job that lets me live the dream. I have friends who act as legions of courage. I have peace of mind. I absolutely adore my life. And yesterday, M tried to take it all away from me.
Apparently, I’m afflicted.
The disease: a case of imbalance.
Apparently, I need to figure things out and fix it.
The cure: time management.
But how on god’s green effin earth, do you balance how much time and work you put into the things you love? When I was unemployed and depressed, M suffered through my incessant neediness. The way I clung to him for dear life as if he was the savior. And inadvertently, he became my strength. One more person who solidified and validated my dreams.
Now, I don’t cling enough. I don’t give him the attention he so desperately craves. Apparently, now, I’ve forgotten my love for him and chosen the world of advertising.
I wonder if he realizes that he is yet another extension of my family. Another extenstion of me. Another piece of the puzzle that defines my existence.
Chosen. Hand-picked. After years of scouring through frogs, making out with monkeys and walking away with nothing but a feeling of relief – I found love.
A man that I never have to tolerate because I enjoy being around him.
A man that leaves me yearning to spend more time with him, to build a life together.
But – I refuse to give up what my Appa slaved for. I refuse to give up what kept me up at night in tears. I refuse to give up the hard work and the dedication that it took to get here. I refuse to walk away from the only thing that belongs to me – fully. My words are my power. Advertising my vehicle. And for a man that claims to love me, M, silently asked me for the unthinkable.
Yet, another condition of humanity. Nothing can be perfect for too long because that angers the powers that be. And from their wrath comes my chaos,
I want it all folks. And whoever said that you can’t have your cake and eat it too – sure didn’t understand the relativity of that statement. Sure you can – especially when you’re in Costco – holding on to the cake you will buy and sampling a piece from the nice lady at the counter. That’s all this game is about – that’s life in a muthaeffin nutshell. A sampling of experiences before moksha (nirvana/the ascension – call it what you will).
Love cannot and should not be custom designed for comfort, unless that comes standard of course. You can’t choose the people you fall in love with and they in turn, don’t choose your destiny. But love, is work. And love is patience. And love is knowing when to hold on tight and when to let go when need be – secure in the knowledge that it will return. I will always return to my spot on your shoulder dude – don’t you get it?
Love isn’t coming home at 5 every night to hang out. Love isn’t being able to cater to someone’s needs all the time. Love isn’t a necessity folks – love is a mutha effin bonus. And once you realize that – you don’t take it for granted. And you don’t have to give up who you are to hold on to it. Because it will – just be. It grows, matures and binds you not by your longing for it – but by the secure knowledge that it exists so seamlessly in your life. And with the good comes the bad and the ugly. So what? Everything good in this life has a god damn price. And I refuse to barter about something so imperative to my existence. I need you because I love wanting you – and this is what I refuse to do.
M, I refuse to voluntarily walk away from you because I’m happy with my life.
M, I refuse to voluntarily let you go because you want comfort.
M, I refuse to let you convince me that I don’t know how to love you
M, I refuse to let you instigate the evil meanderings of doubt
I love you dude. The best way I know how.
M, I need you to realize that life is hard and love shouldn’t be easy and it isn’t.
But most of all M – I refuse to stop you from doing what you need to do.
And what does that mean for me? I will hold a match up to everything we’ve shared (been blessed to share), in the crevices of my memory and gratefully sustain it for life. I’ve never loved anyone that I wasn’t born with – as much as I love you. Unfortunately, I’ve got to love myself first.
Exhaustion. Verbal vomits are tough and sometimes, necessary.
Be Blessed.
Monday, March 14, 2005
2 days of 2 much
“We do not see things as they are, we see things as we are” Anais Nin
Yet another life lesson that had to be vocalized in order to be realized as the truth. Not to mention, a nice piece of realism neatly wrapped in linguistic semantics.
----
Saturday:
I spent the day scurrying between activities: work at Merl’s and his never-ending demands, a freak storm on the way to dinner at B&M’s and some much needed liquor and chill-time at the Queenshead. Life sprung quite the surprise on me when we walked into the Retro night at the Queenshead and I was amazed at the crowd there. Young looking twenty plus/early thirty something’s jamming to the tunes of the early 80’s. Now, old age seems to have crept into my life and silently placed itself amongst the creases of my physical being.
Yup. Another revelation. You might want to sit down for this one. Because I sure as hell had to.
I have wrinkles. Yup- no word of a lie. Experiential lines have marred the wide-eyed innocence that I so vehemently embrace.
Tiny little baby ones by the corner of my eyes. Laugh lines that have firmly etched themselves into my genetic portrait. I’m slowly and surely becoming my mother. Now, that’s not scary at all because quite frankly, she’s absolutely age-defying – it’s just that I’m faced with a slight dissonance.
You see, I’ve always thought of myself as a “growing child” and inside, somewhere in the abyss of emotion and psychology – I still am. But, on the flip side, I’m accosted by evidence that says otherwise.
Old age has caught me by surprise and bitch slapped me into submission. But, I, much like every other revolutionary spirit, will not just disappear into the woodwork and embrace complacency. I will forge ahead with a full blown persona of immaturity, fun and childishness. And for those who don’t quite get it: that’s just too bloddy effin bad.
---
Sunday:
S & Magic’s engagement gig – it was a night to remember. The girls really pulled it all together and created a wonderful ambiance with corresponding décor, invites, favours and yummy Thai food. S looked gorgeous, an angel in a blue suit and Magic was an uber contemporary metrosexual donned in exquisite black. They sure do make a beautiful couple. And this was the first time I met Magic’s family –a genuinely likeable bunch of people. As always, S’s brother kicked the jokes and made the slightly uncomfortable evening much more entertaining.
I walked away with one thing that I couldn’t fully resolve: how does ONE person have two sets of friends who are just so vastly different? I don't dislike them and even if i did, that would be okay. After all, you can't like everyone you meet. They just leave me itching to make an exit - its instinctual. We're different as night and day - fun and bland - those that just be versus those that try too god darn hard. And that's okay. It's something that the three of us (R&R&I) have cultivated and turned into an art form - we only bond with like minded souls, no holds barred. And the rest - is merely an exercise in tolerance.
I mean I can understand how it works when you chill with each group on an individual basis – but together, it was disastrous. Rabbits stuck in a fox den. Discomfort exemplified. We spent the better half of the evening cordoned off from the rest of the girls and hung out with Magic – who is now not only a friend but also family. Gawd, I love him. He’s just so bullshit-free and that’s refreshing. A Fresca-kinda guy.
Mmmmm....Fresca. A bubbly grapefruit delight.
Thankfully, we got out in one piece with one clear piece of evidence: this planning process will be long, bumpy and unsettling. Learning to like people that you just don’t jive with can be extremely uncomfortable and unfortunately, in this instance it has to be done. For the love of the couple in question, at least.
I can’t wait for their dum dum dum – it will bode the beginning of something great for them and for us - the end of these group shindigs.
I think I need a vat of liquid cocaine to regain my sanity.
Amen.
Yet another life lesson that had to be vocalized in order to be realized as the truth. Not to mention, a nice piece of realism neatly wrapped in linguistic semantics.
----
Saturday:
I spent the day scurrying between activities: work at Merl’s and his never-ending demands, a freak storm on the way to dinner at B&M’s and some much needed liquor and chill-time at the Queenshead. Life sprung quite the surprise on me when we walked into the Retro night at the Queenshead and I was amazed at the crowd there. Young looking twenty plus/early thirty something’s jamming to the tunes of the early 80’s. Now, old age seems to have crept into my life and silently placed itself amongst the creases of my physical being.
Yup. Another revelation. You might want to sit down for this one. Because I sure as hell had to.
I have wrinkles. Yup- no word of a lie. Experiential lines have marred the wide-eyed innocence that I so vehemently embrace.
Tiny little baby ones by the corner of my eyes. Laugh lines that have firmly etched themselves into my genetic portrait. I’m slowly and surely becoming my mother. Now, that’s not scary at all because quite frankly, she’s absolutely age-defying – it’s just that I’m faced with a slight dissonance.
You see, I’ve always thought of myself as a “growing child” and inside, somewhere in the abyss of emotion and psychology – I still am. But, on the flip side, I’m accosted by evidence that says otherwise.
Old age has caught me by surprise and bitch slapped me into submission. But, I, much like every other revolutionary spirit, will not just disappear into the woodwork and embrace complacency. I will forge ahead with a full blown persona of immaturity, fun and childishness. And for those who don’t quite get it: that’s just too bloddy effin bad.
---
Sunday:
S & Magic’s engagement gig – it was a night to remember. The girls really pulled it all together and created a wonderful ambiance with corresponding décor, invites, favours and yummy Thai food. S looked gorgeous, an angel in a blue suit and Magic was an uber contemporary metrosexual donned in exquisite black. They sure do make a beautiful couple. And this was the first time I met Magic’s family –a genuinely likeable bunch of people. As always, S’s brother kicked the jokes and made the slightly uncomfortable evening much more entertaining.
I walked away with one thing that I couldn’t fully resolve: how does ONE person have two sets of friends who are just so vastly different? I don't dislike them and even if i did, that would be okay. After all, you can't like everyone you meet. They just leave me itching to make an exit - its instinctual. We're different as night and day - fun and bland - those that just be versus those that try too god darn hard. And that's okay. It's something that the three of us (R&R&I) have cultivated and turned into an art form - we only bond with like minded souls, no holds barred. And the rest - is merely an exercise in tolerance.
I mean I can understand how it works when you chill with each group on an individual basis – but together, it was disastrous. Rabbits stuck in a fox den. Discomfort exemplified. We spent the better half of the evening cordoned off from the rest of the girls and hung out with Magic – who is now not only a friend but also family. Gawd, I love him. He’s just so bullshit-free and that’s refreshing. A Fresca-kinda guy.
Mmmmm....Fresca. A bubbly grapefruit delight.
Thankfully, we got out in one piece with one clear piece of evidence: this planning process will be long, bumpy and unsettling. Learning to like people that you just don’t jive with can be extremely uncomfortable and unfortunately, in this instance it has to be done. For the love of the couple in question, at least.
I can’t wait for their dum dum dum – it will bode the beginning of something great for them and for us - the end of these group shindigs.
I think I need a vat of liquid cocaine to regain my sanity.
Amen.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Minutia.
Dear Lifetime,
Your preposterous ways baffle me. I’m left questioning your sanity when you school my tush using the smallest, most minutest situations in life. Now, call me crazy but shouldn’t life altering lessons be gigantic events? Complete with a marching band, a committee of soothsayers and a simulated shoulder to lay your weary head upon? You would think so, I certainly did.
But apparently, I was wrong.
The best (most imperative) of life’s coaching comes neatly packaged in a small snail mail parcel. It arrives without warning on your doorstep. A lonely parcel that bears the wrath of pedestrians and the weather until you accidentally stumble upon it. That’s how life’s crucial learning happens (in my world atleast). Suddenly and without a hoop-la it arrives admist the dust of chaos and presumptuous actions. Now Mr.Lifetime, why on earth would you subject me to unexpected learning? Don’t you think that being prepared would help me absorb the lesson better?
Either way, I’m astounded. A walk to the Timmies across the street could be an un- scheduled appointment with Mr.LifeLessons and I, am constantly caught unawares by it all. So here’s my humble plea: a sign of some sort would be greatly appreciated. Small, Large, a white dove or perhaps a burning cross – a vision or an inherent stirring of the spirit – something, anything – I’ll even settle for a lucky penny. All this to simply read: If I am prepared for that moment, I will be well-prepared to change perceptions and to absorb the semantics of this life.
And if you simply can't afford to grant me that one little concession - i wonder if i could schedule an appointment to kick your a$$.
Sincerely,
Disgruntled and Insane.
Your preposterous ways baffle me. I’m left questioning your sanity when you school my tush using the smallest, most minutest situations in life. Now, call me crazy but shouldn’t life altering lessons be gigantic events? Complete with a marching band, a committee of soothsayers and a simulated shoulder to lay your weary head upon? You would think so, I certainly did.
But apparently, I was wrong.
The best (most imperative) of life’s coaching comes neatly packaged in a small snail mail parcel. It arrives without warning on your doorstep. A lonely parcel that bears the wrath of pedestrians and the weather until you accidentally stumble upon it. That’s how life’s crucial learning happens (in my world atleast). Suddenly and without a hoop-la it arrives admist the dust of chaos and presumptuous actions. Now Mr.Lifetime, why on earth would you subject me to unexpected learning? Don’t you think that being prepared would help me absorb the lesson better?
Either way, I’m astounded. A walk to the Timmies across the street could be an un- scheduled appointment with Mr.LifeLessons and I, am constantly caught unawares by it all. So here’s my humble plea: a sign of some sort would be greatly appreciated. Small, Large, a white dove or perhaps a burning cross – a vision or an inherent stirring of the spirit – something, anything – I’ll even settle for a lucky penny. All this to simply read: If I am prepared for that moment, I will be well-prepared to change perceptions and to absorb the semantics of this life.
And if you simply can't afford to grant me that one little concession - i wonder if i could schedule an appointment to kick your a$$.
Sincerely,
Disgruntled and Insane.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Light
the truth is the genesis of all cliches
and today, i found one that worked wonders to my day.
sunshine.
bright light = bright demeanor.
i felt better today.
Lungs expanded with O2.
Arteries open wide.
A sensory explosion of goodness.
it's source: sunlight.
i got into work at 8:15 (that's late for my work at dawn ass) and there was light.
glorious. all-encompassing. enveloping me in a warm tortilla of love.
the natural kind.
inspired by the universe
encouraging me to let go
and just bask.
bask in the warmth of a new day
clean slate.
that's what i love about sunshine.
it puts things into perspective.
and today i re-introduced myself to an adage: every day is a new beginning.
it's just that forgetting is a part of human nature.
--
today was hectic, work wise.
I'm learning to cultivate a thick skin.
I'm learning to be assertive.
i'm learning that sometimes you have to stumble to fully learn how to anticipate the next step.
torrid innit?
---
other news: The cheese monkeys by chip kidd. enuff said.
i've once again fallen in love with another man's verbiage. mmmmm....literature rocks.
so what if i'm a big ole nerd!.
Peace.
and today, i found one that worked wonders to my day.
sunshine.
bright light = bright demeanor.
i felt better today.
Lungs expanded with O2.
Arteries open wide.
A sensory explosion of goodness.
it's source: sunlight.
i got into work at 8:15 (that's late for my work at dawn ass) and there was light.
glorious. all-encompassing. enveloping me in a warm tortilla of love.
the natural kind.
inspired by the universe
encouraging me to let go
and just bask.
bask in the warmth of a new day
clean slate.
that's what i love about sunshine.
it puts things into perspective.
and today i re-introduced myself to an adage: every day is a new beginning.
it's just that forgetting is a part of human nature.
--
today was hectic, work wise.
I'm learning to cultivate a thick skin.
I'm learning to be assertive.
i'm learning that sometimes you have to stumble to fully learn how to anticipate the next step.
torrid innit?
---
other news: The cheese monkeys by chip kidd. enuff said.
i've once again fallen in love with another man's verbiage. mmmmm....literature rocks.
so what if i'm a big ole nerd!.
Peace.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Stick me in the corner
and call me a hack.
its been confirmed. We just sold our first radio spot.
No joy.
No exhilaration.
No unbelievable sense of conquering that beast.
No sense of achievement.
just relief.
relief that they bought something.
relief that its over.
that finally i can let IDEAS back into my writing again.
this sucks.
my life in a nutshell.
its been confirmed. We just sold our first radio spot.
No joy.
No exhilaration.
No unbelievable sense of conquering that beast.
No sense of achievement.
just relief.
relief that they bought something.
relief that its over.
that finally i can let IDEAS back into my writing again.
this sucks.
my life in a nutshell.
Silent Epiphanies
Although in this portal, not so silent.
---
I’m astounded by just how many brain cells need to fanatically transmute for me to create advertising that attempts to transmigrate the masses. The observing, the silent pondering, the unobtrusive witnessing of the mundane.
What makes her smile? That Gucci clutch toting goddess teetering on 4” Blahniks. What makes her buy? And what about the dreamboat creating my most delish caramel latte at Starbucks, with the ruffled hair and the rolled out of bed attire, what makes him tick? Even better, what makes his “ipod-toting, so-hip-it-hurts- wearing” behind, purchase a product?
It’s remarkable how advertising is akin to that second voice that lays dormant in your head, provoking my cerebrum with questions and jotting down the mundane details of observations, useful and not. It’s exhilarating to know that I’ve found a career that I feel a vested interest in, I can’t help but take things personally. And simultaneously, I’m flabbergasted by the simple fact that I might be transforming into a damn schizophrenic complete with the circuitous musings of unseen characters.
----
March 8th a.k.a. International Women’s Day. A much-needed and well-deserved celebration of the economic, social, cultural and political achievements for women (amen to that). Here’s a little bit of a backgrounder courtesy of google and the IWD. The first International Women’s Day was held on March 19, 1911 in Germany and other European countries. And how was the day selected? Well, in 1848 the Prussian King had promised German women the right to vote and over one million leaflets calling for action on the right to vote were distributed in 1911.
Women all over the world, often divided by ethnic, linguistic, cultural, economic and political differences, come together to celebrate this day that represents equality, justice, peace and development.
So what does that mean for real women today? You know, the ones that juggle high falootin’ careers, over-grown children (bf’s/husbands), kids, families, siblings and lest we forget the responsibilities that come with having missed that “coveted” XY combination. Basically women like your mom, aunts, sisters, girlfriends and personally - myself.
It means that we have a forum – the opportunity (this is rich by the way) to spark conversations about ordinary women as makers of history. Rooted in the centuries old struggle of women seeking to participate equally in society on an equal footing with men. Wowzers. We get ONE bloody bleepin’ day out of THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE, to celebrate & discuss the role of women in communities, society and history?? Downright preposterous right? Well hold on, it gets better.
So apparently justice is served because after the immense contributions that women have made to the overall workings of the world – we get one day. We don’t share that prevalent XY combination with Hitler, Mussolini, Osama, Bush or the many other MALE world leaders that have contributed to poverty, oppression and a general disregard for freedom of expression/fundamental rights/human rights etc. Sad innit? It’s mind boggling that I need a day to celebrate what generations of Ranjitkumar and Ponnambalam women have persevered through, accomplished and achieved.
Feels like “special rights” innit?
When institutionalized oppression graciously offers us ONE measly day to celebrate our combined endeavours, that’s when you know folks – our patriarchal society is doing just fine as they allocate 24 hours for 52% of our worlds population to feel worthy of a lil’ bit of respect.
When really, everyday should be an opportunity to spark invective, to fight for the cause, to rise above and celebrate the accomplishments of women you know and love. Today, I will remember to give my Amma and my sisters (real and forged) a hug because believe it or not, today is the day we are once again reminded that we enjoy the exclusive status of second class citizens.
I’m leaving you with Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I will survive’. We might get no love (institutionally speaking) but we will forge ahead, empowered.
-----
In other Jana-land news: David Droga will be in town in a few weeks. Here’s a snippet of an email I sent M:
"I'm in the midst of a conundrum,
perhaps you can shed some perspective.
you see, I’ve always believed that one must take great strides to bond
with like minded people.
I haven’t met many in this lifetime
due to circumstance,
due to life,
due to the people I know,
or don’t know.
But there is an opportunity.
David Droga - worldwide chief creative officer for Publicis is coming to the Tdot.
one legend. one show. one time.
one ticket price.
one that I can't afford."
Well there ya go, that’s what I’m trying to wrap my head around. For those of you who don’t know – David Droga is 35 and has been creative director for nearly 14 years. 14 years??? An advertising genius. A man who believes in taking things personally, doing unbelievable work, affecting change and most of all – working his butt off to build agencies that resolve client issues with mind-blowing creative. He survived the Australian, Asian, British ad scene and has now firmly planted his feet on American soil. And soon, those very feet will grace the Tdot and I’m getting far too flustered about all of this. Is it normal to feel your heart beat a dhol drum? And what about the salivating palms? This might be contagious - so i'm going to be socially responsible (as WOMEN usually are) and join the afflicted in that little corner over there.
There are six ad guys that I would give my tarred respiratory organs to meet and in no particular order – here they are.
1. Neil French
2. David Droga
3. Paul Lavoie
4. Piyush Pandey
5. Luke Sullivan
6. The boys from Crispin (they act as a unit – in my mind at least)
Now, M has graciously offered to hook me up with a ticket and we've even got a repayment contract firmly in place - $2 per month for the next 50 months. And while I don’t profess to know much about the world of finances, that sure sounds like a great deal. I wonder if i can coerce/persuade the people at Jacob/H&M/Winners to set up a similar repayment plan for my future purchases? All jokes aside though, I’m lucky to have people in my life that are willing to go out of their way to support my AD-diction. Cheesy eh?
That's me, keeping in tune with the few radio spots we’re presenting in about 30 mins that resemble just that. Triple cheese spread. yum. yay, no awards just a belly ache.
Send me good vibes people. God only knows, I sure need ‘em.
Love.
---
I’m astounded by just how many brain cells need to fanatically transmute for me to create advertising that attempts to transmigrate the masses. The observing, the silent pondering, the unobtrusive witnessing of the mundane.
What makes her smile? That Gucci clutch toting goddess teetering on 4” Blahniks. What makes her buy? And what about the dreamboat creating my most delish caramel latte at Starbucks, with the ruffled hair and the rolled out of bed attire, what makes him tick? Even better, what makes his “ipod-toting, so-hip-it-hurts- wearing” behind, purchase a product?
It’s remarkable how advertising is akin to that second voice that lays dormant in your head, provoking my cerebrum with questions and jotting down the mundane details of observations, useful and not. It’s exhilarating to know that I’ve found a career that I feel a vested interest in, I can’t help but take things personally. And simultaneously, I’m flabbergasted by the simple fact that I might be transforming into a damn schizophrenic complete with the circuitous musings of unseen characters.
----
March 8th a.k.a. International Women’s Day. A much-needed and well-deserved celebration of the economic, social, cultural and political achievements for women (amen to that). Here’s a little bit of a backgrounder courtesy of google and the IWD. The first International Women’s Day was held on March 19, 1911 in Germany and other European countries. And how was the day selected? Well, in 1848 the Prussian King had promised German women the right to vote and over one million leaflets calling for action on the right to vote were distributed in 1911.
Women all over the world, often divided by ethnic, linguistic, cultural, economic and political differences, come together to celebrate this day that represents equality, justice, peace and development.
So what does that mean for real women today? You know, the ones that juggle high falootin’ careers, over-grown children (bf’s/husbands), kids, families, siblings and lest we forget the responsibilities that come with having missed that “coveted” XY combination. Basically women like your mom, aunts, sisters, girlfriends and personally - myself.
It means that we have a forum – the opportunity (this is rich by the way) to spark conversations about ordinary women as makers of history. Rooted in the centuries old struggle of women seeking to participate equally in society on an equal footing with men. Wowzers. We get ONE bloody bleepin’ day out of THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE, to celebrate & discuss the role of women in communities, society and history?? Downright preposterous right? Well hold on, it gets better.
So apparently justice is served because after the immense contributions that women have made to the overall workings of the world – we get one day. We don’t share that prevalent XY combination with Hitler, Mussolini, Osama, Bush or the many other MALE world leaders that have contributed to poverty, oppression and a general disregard for freedom of expression/fundamental rights/human rights etc. Sad innit? It’s mind boggling that I need a day to celebrate what generations of Ranjitkumar and Ponnambalam women have persevered through, accomplished and achieved.
Feels like “special rights” innit?
When institutionalized oppression graciously offers us ONE measly day to celebrate our combined endeavours, that’s when you know folks – our patriarchal society is doing just fine as they allocate 24 hours for 52% of our worlds population to feel worthy of a lil’ bit of respect.
When really, everyday should be an opportunity to spark invective, to fight for the cause, to rise above and celebrate the accomplishments of women you know and love. Today, I will remember to give my Amma and my sisters (real and forged) a hug because believe it or not, today is the day we are once again reminded that we enjoy the exclusive status of second class citizens.
I’m leaving you with Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I will survive’. We might get no love (institutionally speaking) but we will forge ahead, empowered.
-----
In other Jana-land news: David Droga will be in town in a few weeks. Here’s a snippet of an email I sent M:
"I'm in the midst of a conundrum,
perhaps you can shed some perspective.
you see, I’ve always believed that one must take great strides to bond
with like minded people.
I haven’t met many in this lifetime
due to circumstance,
due to life,
due to the people I know,
or don’t know.
But there is an opportunity.
David Droga - worldwide chief creative officer for Publicis is coming to the Tdot.
one legend. one show. one time.
one ticket price.
one that I can't afford."
Well there ya go, that’s what I’m trying to wrap my head around. For those of you who don’t know – David Droga is 35 and has been creative director for nearly 14 years. 14 years??? An advertising genius. A man who believes in taking things personally, doing unbelievable work, affecting change and most of all – working his butt off to build agencies that resolve client issues with mind-blowing creative. He survived the Australian, Asian, British ad scene and has now firmly planted his feet on American soil. And soon, those very feet will grace the Tdot and I’m getting far too flustered about all of this. Is it normal to feel your heart beat a dhol drum? And what about the salivating palms? This might be contagious - so i'm going to be socially responsible (as WOMEN usually are) and join the afflicted in that little corner over there.
There are six ad guys that I would give my tarred respiratory organs to meet and in no particular order – here they are.
1. Neil French
2. David Droga
3. Paul Lavoie
4. Piyush Pandey
5. Luke Sullivan
6. The boys from Crispin (they act as a unit – in my mind at least)
Now, M has graciously offered to hook me up with a ticket and we've even got a repayment contract firmly in place - $2 per month for the next 50 months. And while I don’t profess to know much about the world of finances, that sure sounds like a great deal. I wonder if i can coerce/persuade the people at Jacob/H&M/Winners to set up a similar repayment plan for my future purchases? All jokes aside though, I’m lucky to have people in my life that are willing to go out of their way to support my AD-diction. Cheesy eh?
That's me, keeping in tune with the few radio spots we’re presenting in about 30 mins that resemble just that. Triple cheese spread. yum. yay, no awards just a belly ache.
Send me good vibes people. God only knows, I sure need ‘em.
Love.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Involuntary sabbaticals
Sometimes life has a tendency of throwing you a curveball...well apparently life didn't get the effin memo. It's one at a time hombre.
My disappointment has bled into the fabric of my life - work is hectic (good, draining, impossible to part from and exhausting), life is well life (S's wedding, Merl's nagging, too many commitments and not enough god dang time to fulfill em all) and my health - quickly deteriorating. Yup, guess who didn't get the flu shot and regrets it to pieces now?
Unhuh. that would be me. the invincible me. the me that thinks that flu shots, vitamin supplements and the likes are for the lame and the weak (of mind and spirit). Well, it sure as hell came back and bit me square in the ass. Im dying. Its all there folks - the pounding headache (im convinced that someone decided to throw a carnival on brain matter - this is one instance when sequins dont make up for jack shyte), my throat is on strike (work to rule i believe- its asking for better benefits..something about quitting the nic), my sinuses are veritably congested (the 401 during the height of rush hour would actually be more manageable) - so all in all folks - Im dying.
And in the event that was to occur - here's my booty divided.
R - my clothes, my journals, my surprising collection of 24kt goodies, my books, oh and my elephant
R2 - my cd's, my archived Oprah's, my post cards, my mac, my fantastic vintage gear, my shoes
Mom & Dad - my $$, land, the pleasure of knowing that i won't be contributing to appa's head of white hair
M - my car (with a bunch of payments), my midget on a necklace, my words, my bob marley collage
R's man R - my 2 tamil cd's (alaipayuthe and minnale), my version of the tirukkural and anything else you might want
S - the words i've painstakingly collected (some of them) - no fighting though.
Magic - any and all hidden alcohol or flasks you might find, my johnny walker silver cig case
B - my advertising mindswag - you still owe me that No Copy Advertising book remember?
and to everyone else - whatever you can fight away from the above mentioned folk...its all yours.
Gosh man, i should have more innit? at 27, i should/i should/i should. When will it stop? When will i look straight into the trepid eyes of my soul and tell her straight up: Whose time are you living on anyways biatch? No schedules. No rules. No past comparisons. Nothing. I have to come to terms with the fact that i will always take as long as i need- to accomplish things. I will always be open to the universe guiding me - at my own pace. i will take my time and enjoy this ride cuz god knows, the way i feel right now, i might spontaneously combust. And everyone else - they can entertain themselves elsewhere.
Writing Radio.
Is hard. intimidating. it leaves me shaking in my shoes and quivering for a release. Its thrilling because i get to write. Its terrifying because i have 30 seconds to introduce a product, an idea, entertain and persuade. I'm pretty sure i suck at it right now..im still learning and frankly, this is the hardest part of it all. I hope it gets better. Im sure it will. But in keeping with my pessimistic and largely defeatist attitude, i'll prolly never be able to master this beast. Keep those fingers crossed folks...i need an effin miracle.
---
man, i can't believe its been so long since i've written on here. Through the combined workings of life, work and being ill - i've discounted this outlet and simultaneously realized just how much i need it. It's either my bittersweet meanderings for my own edification or a punching bag. Looking at the state of my culled cuticles...i'm chucking out the latter option for now.
in other news, Richard branson (CEO Virgin Mobile) pulled another stunt yesterday. Dressed as nothing less than a superhero, he swung off a tall building and was greeted by hot nurses. His manifesto: cure canada of the catch. A Roche production - a female driven jr team at the helm. This brings me hope. One day people. One day soon.
i've gotta tackle the radio beast now. outtie.
be blessed.
My disappointment has bled into the fabric of my life - work is hectic (good, draining, impossible to part from and exhausting), life is well life (S's wedding, Merl's nagging, too many commitments and not enough god dang time to fulfill em all) and my health - quickly deteriorating. Yup, guess who didn't get the flu shot and regrets it to pieces now?
Unhuh. that would be me. the invincible me. the me that thinks that flu shots, vitamin supplements and the likes are for the lame and the weak (of mind and spirit). Well, it sure as hell came back and bit me square in the ass. Im dying. Its all there folks - the pounding headache (im convinced that someone decided to throw a carnival on brain matter - this is one instance when sequins dont make up for jack shyte), my throat is on strike (work to rule i believe- its asking for better benefits..something about quitting the nic), my sinuses are veritably congested (the 401 during the height of rush hour would actually be more manageable) - so all in all folks - Im dying.
And in the event that was to occur - here's my booty divided.
R - my clothes, my journals, my surprising collection of 24kt goodies, my books, oh and my elephant
R2 - my cd's, my archived Oprah's, my post cards, my mac, my fantastic vintage gear, my shoes
Mom & Dad - my $$, land, the pleasure of knowing that i won't be contributing to appa's head of white hair
M - my car (with a bunch of payments), my midget on a necklace, my words, my bob marley collage
R's man R - my 2 tamil cd's (alaipayuthe and minnale), my version of the tirukkural and anything else you might want
S - the words i've painstakingly collected (some of them) - no fighting though.
Magic - any and all hidden alcohol or flasks you might find, my johnny walker silver cig case
B - my advertising mindswag - you still owe me that No Copy Advertising book remember?
and to everyone else - whatever you can fight away from the above mentioned folk...its all yours.
Gosh man, i should have more innit? at 27, i should/i should/i should. When will it stop? When will i look straight into the trepid eyes of my soul and tell her straight up: Whose time are you living on anyways biatch? No schedules. No rules. No past comparisons. Nothing. I have to come to terms with the fact that i will always take as long as i need- to accomplish things. I will always be open to the universe guiding me - at my own pace. i will take my time and enjoy this ride cuz god knows, the way i feel right now, i might spontaneously combust. And everyone else - they can entertain themselves elsewhere.
Writing Radio.
Is hard. intimidating. it leaves me shaking in my shoes and quivering for a release. Its thrilling because i get to write. Its terrifying because i have 30 seconds to introduce a product, an idea, entertain and persuade. I'm pretty sure i suck at it right now..im still learning and frankly, this is the hardest part of it all. I hope it gets better. Im sure it will. But in keeping with my pessimistic and largely defeatist attitude, i'll prolly never be able to master this beast. Keep those fingers crossed folks...i need an effin miracle.
---
man, i can't believe its been so long since i've written on here. Through the combined workings of life, work and being ill - i've discounted this outlet and simultaneously realized just how much i need it. It's either my bittersweet meanderings for my own edification or a punching bag. Looking at the state of my culled cuticles...i'm chucking out the latter option for now.
in other news, Richard branson (CEO Virgin Mobile) pulled another stunt yesterday. Dressed as nothing less than a superhero, he swung off a tall building and was greeted by hot nurses. His manifesto: cure canada of the catch. A Roche production - a female driven jr team at the helm. This brings me hope. One day people. One day soon.
i've gotta tackle the radio beast now. outtie.
be blessed.
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