sux.
because i even forget the important things
like verbal nirvana shout outs.
Happy Birthday B!
At 24, you are the loveliest, most balanced goof ball i've had the pleasure of knowing
and ultimately adoring.
You keep me sane and I keep you on your toes. You add colour in places that need it and sometimes in the ones that don't.
thanks for being the bestest art director in the entire world.
xoxo
J
P.S. Your present(s) will come on monday. Pinky swear.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Predictions for the weekend ahead.
I am the proud owner of the world’s weakest immune system. I have to be. After all, it’s quite miraculous that I’ve survived to 27 – my god! Absolutely everything health related has been downhill since the beginning of may.
Yup, im sick, again. Feeling stuffy and congested. Worst part is that I sound like a toad. I’ve always believed that when I’m sick I sound like one of ‘em. Ribbit Ribbit.
Okay, so toads are supposed to be these creatures with the hidden potential of transforming into prince charming – in my fairy tales at least. Using a kiss as a catalyst that is.
And yes, fairy tales are 1% make believe and 99% real&for sure. So it’s inevitable that I believe in them. I mean, that’s a better statistic than condoms offer.
But really, come on people – who would kiss a toad?
On the lips? Okay maybe a few times – in past lives
In the hopes of what? - (of not being single on valentines day)
A man that will eventually return to his former self by ways of attitude or physicality?
I don’t think so peepz.
I for one, don’t kiss toads (anymore).
However it’s quite tragic that I do manage to sound like one.
This weekend will be filled with bliss.
Here’s why.
I’m hopefully going to have a mindblowingly hot date with M tonite. Something about a movie, some din din (which now works out to be a whole wheat bagel or couscus) and some straight up lovin’. Well a girl can hope innit? I won’t be able to breathe mind you, courtesy of my congested sinuses. But who needs to breathe during the act – I mean, its supposed to be breath-taking no?
Although, I recently discovered that respiratory droplets have the endurance of traveling up to 3 feet. Yup, so when you’re on a bus and somebody sneezes across you – you just got sprayed with their germies. Germies that cause all sorts of diseases like E.Coli and Salmonella (to name a few). So perhaps I won’t be splashing M with my flu-droplets although with that boy – he never listens. He takes it quite personally (and offensively) when I refuse to share my sickly germs with him. C’est la vie!
Then Saturday – after a blood test (the fasting variety) yup requires me to give up food for 12 hours – R, R & I head out to S&Magic’s wine labeling/bottling event. Oh my god! They’re getting married in less than 2 months. That’s crazy. It’s scary and overwhelming and just so god darn adorable. I mean, S is gonna be a Mrs. I think I need a few moments to actually internalize all of that. But tomorrow will be loads of fun.
Sat night: my uncle’s birthday bash. N (my cousin and alibi) has decided to get married – in Sri Lanka in August. Yup, August of this year. We had a pact you see. We’ve both been using each other as covers. Each telling people that we’ll get married once the other one does. Well, the rat, went ahead and fixed his date without consulting me. I’m happy for him and stuff but really – what about me?
And me? Tomorrow night, I’ll the one scurrying away in the hopes of avoiding all the “oh it’s your turn now, when are you going to get married?” –esque questions. I actually despise them as I’m sure most adult women do. Initially it was – ‘why don’t you stay with one man for longer than 3 months” – now that I have. The argument has flipped itself and has become a whole new monster, “what’s wrong with M, why doesn’t he want to marry you?”
And I keep wanting to scream – god damnit! It’s not just him. It’s me too. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to leave the safety of my home. Definitely not ready to become ultimately responsible for another human being. Not ready to be a full fledged adult with real life responsibilities. Not ready to deal with Mississauga on a full time basis. Im just not ready people!
But I don’t vocalize these thoughts. I nod. Laugh. Giggle often and much. And cross my fingers and wish that time would fly. I console myself by tuning out the chatter. I actively fight their words in my head and remind myself that:
~I will get married. Hopefully to M. It will be my turn. One day. And that day will happen when we’re both absolutely certain and ready. Whenever that may be. ~
And Sunday – will be bliss. Nothing but pure chillaxing and recovering from the night before. I love my extended family but sometimes, I look around and realize that there’s got to be more than just this. Most discussions quickly deteriorate into friendly mud slinging matches where someone picks on someone and makes said someone feel shoddy for not following the invisible time table.
I keep reminding myself that when the three of us grow up –our family gatherings are going to focus on three things:
Love
Support
Encouragement
And the mud-slinging – we’ll do that in jest in the privacy of our own spaces.
It’s 3:32 and I am bored.
I can’t stand having nothing to do.
Being sick doesn’t help the situation.
I feel like a caged beast – my mind is turning on me!
I need some sugar. Oh yeah, I forgot. I can’t have that anymore.
Grrrr.
Yup, im sick, again. Feeling stuffy and congested. Worst part is that I sound like a toad. I’ve always believed that when I’m sick I sound like one of ‘em. Ribbit Ribbit.
Okay, so toads are supposed to be these creatures with the hidden potential of transforming into prince charming – in my fairy tales at least. Using a kiss as a catalyst that is.
And yes, fairy tales are 1% make believe and 99% real&for sure. So it’s inevitable that I believe in them. I mean, that’s a better statistic than condoms offer.
But really, come on people – who would kiss a toad?
On the lips? Okay maybe a few times – in past lives
In the hopes of what? - (of not being single on valentines day)
A man that will eventually return to his former self by ways of attitude or physicality?
I don’t think so peepz.
I for one, don’t kiss toads (anymore).
However it’s quite tragic that I do manage to sound like one.
This weekend will be filled with bliss.
Here’s why.
I’m hopefully going to have a mindblowingly hot date with M tonite. Something about a movie, some din din (which now works out to be a whole wheat bagel or couscus) and some straight up lovin’. Well a girl can hope innit? I won’t be able to breathe mind you, courtesy of my congested sinuses. But who needs to breathe during the act – I mean, its supposed to be breath-taking no?
Although, I recently discovered that respiratory droplets have the endurance of traveling up to 3 feet. Yup, so when you’re on a bus and somebody sneezes across you – you just got sprayed with their germies. Germies that cause all sorts of diseases like E.Coli and Salmonella (to name a few). So perhaps I won’t be splashing M with my flu-droplets although with that boy – he never listens. He takes it quite personally (and offensively) when I refuse to share my sickly germs with him. C’est la vie!
Then Saturday – after a blood test (the fasting variety) yup requires me to give up food for 12 hours – R, R & I head out to S&Magic’s wine labeling/bottling event. Oh my god! They’re getting married in less than 2 months. That’s crazy. It’s scary and overwhelming and just so god darn adorable. I mean, S is gonna be a Mrs. I think I need a few moments to actually internalize all of that. But tomorrow will be loads of fun.
Sat night: my uncle’s birthday bash. N (my cousin and alibi) has decided to get married – in Sri Lanka in August. Yup, August of this year. We had a pact you see. We’ve both been using each other as covers. Each telling people that we’ll get married once the other one does. Well, the rat, went ahead and fixed his date without consulting me. I’m happy for him and stuff but really – what about me?
And me? Tomorrow night, I’ll the one scurrying away in the hopes of avoiding all the “oh it’s your turn now, when are you going to get married?” –esque questions. I actually despise them as I’m sure most adult women do. Initially it was – ‘why don’t you stay with one man for longer than 3 months” – now that I have. The argument has flipped itself and has become a whole new monster, “what’s wrong with M, why doesn’t he want to marry you?”
And I keep wanting to scream – god damnit! It’s not just him. It’s me too. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to leave the safety of my home. Definitely not ready to become ultimately responsible for another human being. Not ready to be a full fledged adult with real life responsibilities. Not ready to deal with Mississauga on a full time basis. Im just not ready people!
But I don’t vocalize these thoughts. I nod. Laugh. Giggle often and much. And cross my fingers and wish that time would fly. I console myself by tuning out the chatter. I actively fight their words in my head and remind myself that:
~I will get married. Hopefully to M. It will be my turn. One day. And that day will happen when we’re both absolutely certain and ready. Whenever that may be. ~
And Sunday – will be bliss. Nothing but pure chillaxing and recovering from the night before. I love my extended family but sometimes, I look around and realize that there’s got to be more than just this. Most discussions quickly deteriorate into friendly mud slinging matches where someone picks on someone and makes said someone feel shoddy for not following the invisible time table.
I keep reminding myself that when the three of us grow up –our family gatherings are going to focus on three things:
Love
Support
Encouragement
And the mud-slinging – we’ll do that in jest in the privacy of our own spaces.
It’s 3:32 and I am bored.
I can’t stand having nothing to do.
Being sick doesn’t help the situation.
I feel like a caged beast – my mind is turning on me!
I need some sugar. Oh yeah, I forgot. I can’t have that anymore.
Grrrr.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
J'aime Montréal
S had a wonderful idea – theoretically at least. And in her defense how was she to know that it would pour. A road trip was a wonderful suggestion to celebrate her birthday – so healthy bond inducing. Montreal was the chosen city. The date was agreed upon (and changed – thanks to me) and the peepz confirmed, including D. My oh my! That was the first of many anomalies.
On my end, M was apprehensive about the trip. I abruptly discovered the Type 2 Diabetes thing on Tuesday of that week. And started a new med on that very same day. On Wednesday, my body seemed to be rejecting the meds and I was concerned enough to hit the walk in at queen and spadina. SO, M’s trepidation was acceptable given the situation. But I desperately needed it. A couple days where the focus was on anything else but me and my dysfunctionality. He was sweet though. Endearingly so.
He explained his fear to me, rationally and in a very M-esque manner. And I understood. Once again, my boy was fighting to hold on to me. Fighting to protect me. And fighting to make sure that he could guarantee my safety. I love it. I’m so loved and so blessed ( I know I know, its getting quite redundant – but I can’t help it folks – its awesome to be loved so much- a part of me is certain that there has been some kinda colossal mistake that GOD made – I couldn’t possibly deserve so much love in one lifetime).
We left after the others and drove up in our trusty civic. The drive was memorable to say the least – I got some shut eye, we talked, laughed until I nearly peed my undies, discussed things until they resembled dead horses and cuddled the entire way. He’s lovable. And adorable. And loves me. Gosh darn it; I couldn’t possibly get any luckier.
The rain descended upon old-world Montreal leaving it grey, wet and dreary looking. It was all right though, cuz we sat in the car for a bit and just chillaxed. That’s when the group arrived. And the weekend became a slight blur from that point on.
I’ve probably mentioned this many a time – I love M’s friends. They are the sweetest, most passionate group of people – each with a personality that is larger than life. It’s so easy to immerse yourself in great conversation and hysterics with the lot of them. Thankfully, S liked her birthday gift. I was wiling out about the Guess bag – I mean gosh, it was bronze with snake skin – and since B grimaced when he saw it – I was certain that my shopping intuition had failed me. But yeah, it still works. Kinks and all.
We decided to hit the Casino. My first time. The energy was unbelievable. It was a gorgeous building. Architecturally awe-inspiring. But then again, most of Montreal looks like it were designed by a group of European artists – everything oozes of old world charm and culture. I love it. God damnit, why can’t the Tdot be more like that. I blew $20 on the slots. Not a big deal. It wasn’t hugely fun. I won some, lost some, won some more and finally played to lose cuz I was incredibly bored. I had such a good time watching the little Elvis impersonators though. Not that they were little people – like midgets but little as in cute and cool. They were awesome – period costumes met period music and brought forth good times. I loved it. Oh and the stereotypes about seniors and casinos – so true. I got beat down by an old woman who tried to jump the escalator before me. What did she use? You guessed it – her god damn bag. Could it get more clichéd than that?
After the casino, we hit an urban club. Urban being the word that night. The DJ had ADD. He couldn’t decide what to play and once he threw something on – he killed it by either interrupting it with another tune or his own unintelligible voice. The crowd was ghetto. A bunch of youngin’s trying really hard to emulate all them hip hop music videos. A bunch of inappropriately timed bumps mixed in with a few badly designed grindin sessions and you had a club filled with frenchies who had no rhythm. Needless to say the Tdot massive was peeeeved. I had an okay time. But then again, all my hoey ass needs is some beats and it does its own thang. Sad but true people. In my old age, im still a big club-hoe. I don’t plan on giving that up anytime though – I plan on being a ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ minx until gravity does its number on me and things start to hang to my knees. That’s the cut off point. Once my tits touch my ankles – I solemnly swear to resign my dancing shoes.
The Chinese food after the club was niiiice. N took great care of me. She is so effin nurturing that it makes me envious. I mean think about it folks – she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s a princess, loves to shop, is totally feisty, unbelievably charismatic and NURTURING? Gawd. I hate those nearly perfect people. But then again, the entire group is blessed with just enough of everything – that’s what makes them - them. Either way – hate pushed aside, N took care of me. Made sure I had something to eat in the smoke filled restaurant.
Okay – in Toronto you can’t even smoke in the doorway to a patio without a burly know-it-all bouncer butting it out. In Montreal – they’ve got great architecture, awesome cobble stone pathways, the most romantic waterfront and you can friggin smoke inside a restaurant. ALL THE TIME. EFFIN CLAP. I wanna move to Montreal.
Now.
Anyways, a couple verbal altercations later – we hit the sack. I slept like a baby despite the fact that J was snoring loud enough to wake the sleeping giants that live under the bridge or so I was told the morning after. I heard noises in my head – which apparently I also made out loud. Embarrassing yes. But was I sorry? Nah. I was just glad that M was there to hold my head close.
Breakfast was yummy. And then it was off to Raman’s. His kids are adorable. I think I actually heard the slight whirr of that dreaded biological clock. I mean gosh, something stirred in my cardio-arterial region and I involuntarily sighed. They are the cutest little people. Personalities and all. It was good to see him. And it felt good to introduce him to M – after all, dude is definitely a cornerstone on Amma’s side of the gang. It was refreshing to my spirit. I hope that their lives are filled with delight and utter goodness – pure in its sanctity.
The drive home was sweet. The trip was tiring. I vowed that sometime this summer – the home crew would most definitely plan a weeklong trip to MTL. A trip to absorb the culture. A trip to expand our souls. A trip to experience a European lifestyle on a budget. I love MTL.
And sure, the trip was filled with sniffles, flared tempers and general scuffles – but that’s half the fun of traveling with family. It’s not so much the way you interact with people during the awesome times but the way you hold them close during the rough ones. Everyone is allowed to have an off day or two and nobody is perfect. And when you love people as much as the group seems to love each other – everything is forgivable. And in time, ouchies become bygones.
The crew (M&C, N&J, S&P) is gearing up for their week long sojourn in Mexico. I’m envious people – green – a putrid green at that. But I sincerely hope that they have a fun filled week to celebrate all their many accomplishments and changes in the last year. They most definitely deserve it.
And me? I’m just glad that the back-blogging is done. Starting tomorrow – this blog will return to featuring my daily rants, raves and emotionally driven doodoo. After all, for some of you – I have become part of the daily morning routine. And for others, what the heck are you waiting for??
Be blessed.
MTL – we will return.
On my end, M was apprehensive about the trip. I abruptly discovered the Type 2 Diabetes thing on Tuesday of that week. And started a new med on that very same day. On Wednesday, my body seemed to be rejecting the meds and I was concerned enough to hit the walk in at queen and spadina. SO, M’s trepidation was acceptable given the situation. But I desperately needed it. A couple days where the focus was on anything else but me and my dysfunctionality. He was sweet though. Endearingly so.
He explained his fear to me, rationally and in a very M-esque manner. And I understood. Once again, my boy was fighting to hold on to me. Fighting to protect me. And fighting to make sure that he could guarantee my safety. I love it. I’m so loved and so blessed ( I know I know, its getting quite redundant – but I can’t help it folks – its awesome to be loved so much- a part of me is certain that there has been some kinda colossal mistake that GOD made – I couldn’t possibly deserve so much love in one lifetime).
We left after the others and drove up in our trusty civic. The drive was memorable to say the least – I got some shut eye, we talked, laughed until I nearly peed my undies, discussed things until they resembled dead horses and cuddled the entire way. He’s lovable. And adorable. And loves me. Gosh darn it; I couldn’t possibly get any luckier.
The rain descended upon old-world Montreal leaving it grey, wet and dreary looking. It was all right though, cuz we sat in the car for a bit and just chillaxed. That’s when the group arrived. And the weekend became a slight blur from that point on.
I’ve probably mentioned this many a time – I love M’s friends. They are the sweetest, most passionate group of people – each with a personality that is larger than life. It’s so easy to immerse yourself in great conversation and hysterics with the lot of them. Thankfully, S liked her birthday gift. I was wiling out about the Guess bag – I mean gosh, it was bronze with snake skin – and since B grimaced when he saw it – I was certain that my shopping intuition had failed me. But yeah, it still works. Kinks and all.
We decided to hit the Casino. My first time. The energy was unbelievable. It was a gorgeous building. Architecturally awe-inspiring. But then again, most of Montreal looks like it were designed by a group of European artists – everything oozes of old world charm and culture. I love it. God damnit, why can’t the Tdot be more like that. I blew $20 on the slots. Not a big deal. It wasn’t hugely fun. I won some, lost some, won some more and finally played to lose cuz I was incredibly bored. I had such a good time watching the little Elvis impersonators though. Not that they were little people – like midgets but little as in cute and cool. They were awesome – period costumes met period music and brought forth good times. I loved it. Oh and the stereotypes about seniors and casinos – so true. I got beat down by an old woman who tried to jump the escalator before me. What did she use? You guessed it – her god damn bag. Could it get more clichéd than that?
After the casino, we hit an urban club. Urban being the word that night. The DJ had ADD. He couldn’t decide what to play and once he threw something on – he killed it by either interrupting it with another tune or his own unintelligible voice. The crowd was ghetto. A bunch of youngin’s trying really hard to emulate all them hip hop music videos. A bunch of inappropriately timed bumps mixed in with a few badly designed grindin sessions and you had a club filled with frenchies who had no rhythm. Needless to say the Tdot massive was peeeeved. I had an okay time. But then again, all my hoey ass needs is some beats and it does its own thang. Sad but true people. In my old age, im still a big club-hoe. I don’t plan on giving that up anytime though – I plan on being a ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ minx until gravity does its number on me and things start to hang to my knees. That’s the cut off point. Once my tits touch my ankles – I solemnly swear to resign my dancing shoes.
The Chinese food after the club was niiiice. N took great care of me. She is so effin nurturing that it makes me envious. I mean think about it folks – she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s a princess, loves to shop, is totally feisty, unbelievably charismatic and NURTURING? Gawd. I hate those nearly perfect people. But then again, the entire group is blessed with just enough of everything – that’s what makes them - them. Either way – hate pushed aside, N took care of me. Made sure I had something to eat in the smoke filled restaurant.
Okay – in Toronto you can’t even smoke in the doorway to a patio without a burly know-it-all bouncer butting it out. In Montreal – they’ve got great architecture, awesome cobble stone pathways, the most romantic waterfront and you can friggin smoke inside a restaurant. ALL THE TIME. EFFIN CLAP. I wanna move to Montreal.
Now.
Anyways, a couple verbal altercations later – we hit the sack. I slept like a baby despite the fact that J was snoring loud enough to wake the sleeping giants that live under the bridge or so I was told the morning after. I heard noises in my head – which apparently I also made out loud. Embarrassing yes. But was I sorry? Nah. I was just glad that M was there to hold my head close.
Breakfast was yummy. And then it was off to Raman’s. His kids are adorable. I think I actually heard the slight whirr of that dreaded biological clock. I mean gosh, something stirred in my cardio-arterial region and I involuntarily sighed. They are the cutest little people. Personalities and all. It was good to see him. And it felt good to introduce him to M – after all, dude is definitely a cornerstone on Amma’s side of the gang. It was refreshing to my spirit. I hope that their lives are filled with delight and utter goodness – pure in its sanctity.
The drive home was sweet. The trip was tiring. I vowed that sometime this summer – the home crew would most definitely plan a weeklong trip to MTL. A trip to absorb the culture. A trip to expand our souls. A trip to experience a European lifestyle on a budget. I love MTL.
And sure, the trip was filled with sniffles, flared tempers and general scuffles – but that’s half the fun of traveling with family. It’s not so much the way you interact with people during the awesome times but the way you hold them close during the rough ones. Everyone is allowed to have an off day or two and nobody is perfect. And when you love people as much as the group seems to love each other – everything is forgivable. And in time, ouchies become bygones.
The crew (M&C, N&J, S&P) is gearing up for their week long sojourn in Mexico. I’m envious people – green – a putrid green at that. But I sincerely hope that they have a fun filled week to celebrate all their many accomplishments and changes in the last year. They most definitely deserve it.
And me? I’m just glad that the back-blogging is done. Starting tomorrow – this blog will return to featuring my daily rants, raves and emotionally driven doodoo. After all, for some of you – I have become part of the daily morning routine. And for others, what the heck are you waiting for??
Be blessed.
MTL – we will return.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
The trip after the trip.
Home is sweet. I was glad to be back in my court, my week started as it normally did. A mad scramble to get to work on time and in one piece. That’s when I noticed that I wasn’t feeling so hot. Something on my inside was doing something funky that made me feel horrible on the outside. And I don’t usually feel horrible – physically at least. Not enough for it to concern me.
Okay fine, I complain a lot. About this, that and every other thing hurting. But I’m not a complainer just an interpreter of life’s misgivings. That’s all. Consider me the equivalent to a public service institution.
So admist the chatter, it arrived. Silent and deadly. Here we go:
I recently had some blood work done. So I got the dreaded call where they asked me to come into the walk-in clinic. I went in with Rama. And apparently, my blood glucose levels are at a record breaking high. Most people are at a 4 to 6 – my random sample was at 27. Yeah, apparently that’s reason enough to be hospitalized. But then the walk-in doctor found my test results that showed a reading of 16. Which is still horribly bad. Still life-threatening. Still preventable. That was the hope. The hiding silver lining.
So amongst all the good and the bad things I’ve inherited from my folks – I also bear the brunt of being too sweet. There’s just too much bloody sugar in my system. Which rationally makes total sense. After all, if anyone saw our snack drawer at work – you’d know why that doesn’t surprise me.
In the last few weeks, this is what I have learnt:
My family adores me
M loves me to death
B loves me enough to give up sugar too
My friends are there – all the time
Everyone’s getting healthier for me
I have to take a pill twice a day
I have to take some more blood tests
I have to figure out how to become normal
I have to take care of myself
I have to cut out ALL sugar
I must wave goodbye to all things Refined (read: yummy)
And most importantly,
I have to find an effin doctor.
It seems to be easier to find a hit man than a god damn family physician in Toronto. Perhaps we need to send out a memo to all the brownies who are expanding their horizons and getting into communication arts. No expanding necessary thank you very much. They need to be doctors god damnit. DOCTORS. Young, healthy, virile ones that promise not to keel over in the next few years. Cuz god knows, I can’t imagine going through this ordeal twice.
I need one.
ASAP.
So apart from that – I’ve been working out diligently.
Who would’ve thought that facing my mortality could be so powerful?
Who would’ve thought that I had the self control to break away from sugar completely?
Who would’ve thought that I had the power to say no?
It’s so inspiring - the threat of dying actually makes the weakest duckling stronger. I feel reincarnated.
Alive.
And with all the people holding my hand
And helping me through this enormously confusing tunnel
I feel adequately loved and blessed.
But what did amaze me through all of this was the sheer power that my body has over my life. You see, I’ve always disregarded it. My body is my vehicle – that’s it. Well and now, my vice. I’ve never cared enough to worry about it’s performance, endurance, health etc. And now I realize that the one thing I never felt the need to control or worry about – is the one thing that can end my love affair with everything else I absolutely adore. That’s powerful stuff people. And heady too.
It makes you feel small and powerless. It forces you to realize the fact that there are greater things at work in this universe. It bitch slaps you until you open those eyes to the fact that you really do have just one life to live. And its precious. Especially when you are loved and when you love so many other people and things.
It sounds clichéd. Felt clichéd to even scribe. But it is the truth. Powerful and simple.
That night, I wept my eyes out. M drove down to console my sorry behind. And I realized. I have 7 people in this life that depend on me – not literally but figuratively. They belong to me. They are my responsibilities. Their happiness is partially in my hands. And if I was to die (as I very well could’ve apparently considering that my eyes are flippin out and my head is doing something funky) – I would leave them with one less love portion. And that’s horrible. And so, everything else is relative.
I still hate the gym. I’m fine once I get there. But the trek there is filled with soap-operatic self talk that resembles a series of grade 9 gym class excuses. And when I’m on that elliptical machine that I’m certain was designed by a sadistic bastard – I keep reminding myself – the next ten minutes will make sure I get ten more with R or ten more fighting with Appa or ten more playing with M– god the list goes on. And it might seem silly and childish – but that’s what I need: I need to know how every second of sweat is going to change my life.
I’m grateful for having found out now.
So I can fix this now.
And I’m lucky to have friends and family who are willing to pitch in and help out.
So that’s that – my run in with the sugar monster.
(the word on the street is that once I get everything under control, I could have a sliver of cheesecake without it killing me – I’m looking forward to those days.)
cross your fingers folks – I need all the luck I can get.
Okay fine, I complain a lot. About this, that and every other thing hurting. But I’m not a complainer just an interpreter of life’s misgivings. That’s all. Consider me the equivalent to a public service institution.
So admist the chatter, it arrived. Silent and deadly. Here we go:
I recently had some blood work done. So I got the dreaded call where they asked me to come into the walk-in clinic. I went in with Rama. And apparently, my blood glucose levels are at a record breaking high. Most people are at a 4 to 6 – my random sample was at 27. Yeah, apparently that’s reason enough to be hospitalized. But then the walk-in doctor found my test results that showed a reading of 16. Which is still horribly bad. Still life-threatening. Still preventable. That was the hope. The hiding silver lining.
So amongst all the good and the bad things I’ve inherited from my folks – I also bear the brunt of being too sweet. There’s just too much bloody sugar in my system. Which rationally makes total sense. After all, if anyone saw our snack drawer at work – you’d know why that doesn’t surprise me.
In the last few weeks, this is what I have learnt:
My family adores me
M loves me to death
B loves me enough to give up sugar too
My friends are there – all the time
Everyone’s getting healthier for me
I have to take a pill twice a day
I have to take some more blood tests
I have to figure out how to become normal
I have to take care of myself
I have to cut out ALL sugar
I must wave goodbye to all things Refined (read: yummy)
And most importantly,
I have to find an effin doctor.
It seems to be easier to find a hit man than a god damn family physician in Toronto. Perhaps we need to send out a memo to all the brownies who are expanding their horizons and getting into communication arts. No expanding necessary thank you very much. They need to be doctors god damnit. DOCTORS. Young, healthy, virile ones that promise not to keel over in the next few years. Cuz god knows, I can’t imagine going through this ordeal twice.
I need one.
ASAP.
So apart from that – I’ve been working out diligently.
Who would’ve thought that facing my mortality could be so powerful?
Who would’ve thought that I had the self control to break away from sugar completely?
Who would’ve thought that I had the power to say no?
It’s so inspiring - the threat of dying actually makes the weakest duckling stronger. I feel reincarnated.
Alive.
And with all the people holding my hand
And helping me through this enormously confusing tunnel
I feel adequately loved and blessed.
But what did amaze me through all of this was the sheer power that my body has over my life. You see, I’ve always disregarded it. My body is my vehicle – that’s it. Well and now, my vice. I’ve never cared enough to worry about it’s performance, endurance, health etc. And now I realize that the one thing I never felt the need to control or worry about – is the one thing that can end my love affair with everything else I absolutely adore. That’s powerful stuff people. And heady too.
It makes you feel small and powerless. It forces you to realize the fact that there are greater things at work in this universe. It bitch slaps you until you open those eyes to the fact that you really do have just one life to live. And its precious. Especially when you are loved and when you love so many other people and things.
It sounds clichéd. Felt clichéd to even scribe. But it is the truth. Powerful and simple.
That night, I wept my eyes out. M drove down to console my sorry behind. And I realized. I have 7 people in this life that depend on me – not literally but figuratively. They belong to me. They are my responsibilities. Their happiness is partially in my hands. And if I was to die (as I very well could’ve apparently considering that my eyes are flippin out and my head is doing something funky) – I would leave them with one less love portion. And that’s horrible. And so, everything else is relative.
I still hate the gym. I’m fine once I get there. But the trek there is filled with soap-operatic self talk that resembles a series of grade 9 gym class excuses. And when I’m on that elliptical machine that I’m certain was designed by a sadistic bastard – I keep reminding myself – the next ten minutes will make sure I get ten more with R or ten more fighting with Appa or ten more playing with M– god the list goes on. And it might seem silly and childish – but that’s what I need: I need to know how every second of sweat is going to change my life.
I’m grateful for having found out now.
So I can fix this now.
And I’m lucky to have friends and family who are willing to pitch in and help out.
So that’s that – my run in with the sugar monster.
(the word on the street is that once I get everything under control, I could have a sliver of cheesecake without it killing me – I’m looking forward to those days.)
cross your fingers folks – I need all the luck I can get.
Transylvania - we came, we saw, we left as soon as we could.
Road trips are finicky lil’ vacations filled with tumultuous beasts that depend on a number of variables. For instance, the type of vehicle it takes place in, the number of hours before arriving at the preferred destination, the passengers, their relation to the drivers, over active bladders, over zealous bellies…yup, the whole gamut. So sit back and prepare yourself to enjoy our explorative journey into Pittsburg, Amerika.
( no really, grab a snack cuz this bollywood-esque review is sans intermission)
Appa decided that for his birthday he’d like to cordon his troops and go on a quasi religious excursion. So after a ton of negotiations about the date, we arrived at the conclusion that this trip would have to be short cuz R couldn’t sleep out for more than one night. A van was booked, directions were printed out, no sandwiches were packed (thank gawd, the last thing we needed was the rank odor of soggy tuna wafting over our slumbering heads only to abruptly choke us once we awoke) and we each packed A bag. Some were of course, larger than others.
Hey, I can’t help it if I need a god darn flat iron – being beautiful is hard work people.
R&M did most of the driving on the trip – after a few wrong turns, missed exits and re-visited toll-booths, we found our way to the Holiday Inn in Pittsburg, Transylvania. The fact that these damn yanks charge you for driving through their country is laudable enough without factoring in their insane ability to open up these 24 hour Walmarts – giving us more of a reason to render ourselves completely broke.
(Yup, count that – 41 words in 1 sentence –im a textologist and obviously a believer in run-on sentences.)
Either way, getting past our hurdles, we all got changed and drove up to the Pittsburg Temple – Temple number one on our list. I’m telling you, brown people are infamous for these religious pilgrimages (that’s actually what dad told the guy at the border – yup, me and these 6 slightly suspicious looking tanned people are crossing over for a pilgrimage - ). Tamil folk can’t seem to leave the country without mapping out and falling prey to the temple circuit.
I always question this though: does Lord Ganesh or Shiva care that you just saw him at three different places in the last 24 hours? I mean, is there such a thing as over-exposing yourself to the powers that be? And whatever happened to us experiencing our religious beliefs in an inherent, visceral manner? Not that I mind temples – I enjoy the shanti it brings me. But I can imagine M’s apprehension, his discomfort and how bloody much he must love me to put up with me and my “suddenly religious” family.
The temple was gorgeous. The lingam was ridiculously beautiful. Each deity in his /her own samaj. Each housed in magnificence, encased in enough bling to send Luda into a tizzy – the whole place was just light and flighty. I immediately fell in love with the architecture of each vestibule, simple yet complex – the perfect oxymoron and a rather impressionable one at that.
The sambar rice and the lemon rice was absolutely titillating to my taste buds. I wanted to crawl into mom’s lap and relive childhood memories. Although, amma wasn’t in many of them – the maid was. But no matter, it still brought back vibes of safety and security and fooooooood – not just a content sigh from my belly – but a tantalizing roller coaster for my palate.
I want to live in a temple. No joke, I’ve always wanted to do something religious with myself. Not join the pilgrimage circuit, but to be a part of the actual institution – I went through many a phase like the destined to be a nun, priestess, monk, tribal healer, black queen and spoken word warrior – just a few of the many that hovered on my plate. And sometimes, I still feel slivers of those yearnings haunting me. Although, I think that the food they serve at religious institutions had a little something to do with that decision.
Either way – adequately blessed and belly full – the 7 of us trudged back to the van. And that’s when we hit Target. A dream come true. I have been addicted to the Target website for weeks – printing out things, pictures, directions – virally salivating. I know they don’t ship to Canada, yet I have an online shopping cart filled to the brim in the hopes that they might change their effin policies. Thankfully, R& M made sure we made it to Target, just so that I’d quit bugging them.
God I was excited, pee my pants excited - only to realize that it was a glorified Zellers. EEEEEGADS. My dreams shot – I still managed to procure a pepto bismol pink short trench by Isaac and a pleated skirt that R thinks is absolutely hideous. She calls it my ‘slave girl’ swag. Then we hit DSW (the mecca of shoes), where M bought me the most adorable pointy toed flat Rocket Dogs (my newest obsession) and to Marshalls where I got the sexiest bra’s for $5. Through the entirety of our shop-a-thon, Amma and Appa nestled themselves in the backseat of their rental and went to sleep.
Yup, this was his birthday trip. He chose to sleep most of it away. Parents..
Either way, the shops were closing so M & R drove us back to the Inn and went exploring (aka foraging for beer). R was in heaven when he found the DSW equivalent of beer at a Beer mart. They bought back a 24 case of tallboy Coors cans. Yup, they drank all of 4 maybe. We went out for dinner sans Amma and Rashmi and then called it a night out of sheer exhaustion.
Day 2: Had some breakfast, packed up our stuff (I brought along waaaay more than I needed) and then we hit Grove City. The mecca for people who get off on outlet shopping. I think we spent a good 3 hours there and trust me, by the end of it I was bitchin belly broke but, that didn’t seem to matter. I made out great at the GAP – a yummy skirt, a khakhi blazer. I got a tee that reads “high maintenance” and appropriately so. I also got a bunch of other stuff from other places that I don’t quite remember (I’m certain that M is shaking his head in distress – my love affair with things often don’t get past the 48 hour mark).
I prefer to think of them as ‘trysts’ or ‘flings’ as opposed to affairs. Albeit I pine for them like they might be of the latter variety.
After that we drove to the Rochester temple. Well we thought that’s where we were headed but R actually took us elsewhere. Still a temple. So he can’t be blamed. Tempers were starting to flare, people were getting argumentative but by sheer luck – a couple of nice Indian fellows led us to the real temple. So we got there at like 7:30pm on a Sunday night.
Yup, 7:30 on a Sunday night and we were just starting on Temple number 2.
This temple was gorgeous – and it’s built by the sheer power and labour of volunteers. Which is quite impressive. Apparently, people travel from all over the world to help out and do some ‘seva’ (religious work) in the hopes of garnering a piece of the marketshare of the blessings that Lord Ganesh, Shiva and the crew dole out. Either way – I was blessed to be there with all the people I loved. And I would definitely like to go back.
In fact, its where I hope to get married.
One day.
No hints.
No subtle prodding.
Just the wish of a lonely little girl …. * sniff sniff*
☺
So while we were busy garnering some divine votes of confidence at the Rochester temple, M generously offered to de-tag and de-price all our procured goodies so that it passes through the border without getting taxed. He was meticulous – that’s my boy! If accounting doesn’t work out – smuggling. That’s his next big career move. And so we got everything past the border.
Yup, seven people who all spent atleast a hundred dollars a piece who voluntarily screwed the system without batting an eyelash!
I love brown people – especially the ones that belong to me.
We drove past the ‘welcome to Toronto’ sign and collectively sighed in relief. I think we pulled into our drive way around 11ish.
Tired.
Grumpy.
Sleepy.
And glad to be back home.
God, I missed Sparx and Trix.
I’m gonna assume that they missed me too.
The boys took off and we ended our weekend with watered down hugs and repeated reassurances that we had a great time.
I think the folks enjoyed it. It made them feel adequately tethered to their litter.
You see, I realized on that trip – how awesome our lives are truly going to be. The people I love, love each other. Sure they bicker. And nag. And get hostile. And sometimes claws come out. Someone loses an eye on occasion. But at the end of the night, all we seem to need to have a great time is each other.
And that reassures me.
Makes me feel complete.
This weekend was the first time the boys were invited on a sleep over trip. A huge honkin deal on Appa’s part. To him this wasn’t just a trip – this was his official welcome to the clan. Now regardless of the spine tingling undertones a la the Soprano’s – we should focus on the positive and that means that the boys have an extra place to call home.
And we have an extra bunch of hands to lift things, carry things and drive things forward.
Like the rest of our lives.
It really is fun when you find those perfect pieces that complete the puzzle.
Almost people. We are almost complete.
Next post: The drama that followed our trip to Transylvania.
Back-blogging is a pain in the ass. But it certainly makes each memory more tangible.
Oh - I also seem to have picked up a linguistic equivalent of a bad habit - i seem to have generously smattered this post with "either way this" and "either way that" - now this embarrassing boo-boo is officially done.
( no really, grab a snack cuz this bollywood-esque review is sans intermission)
Appa decided that for his birthday he’d like to cordon his troops and go on a quasi religious excursion. So after a ton of negotiations about the date, we arrived at the conclusion that this trip would have to be short cuz R couldn’t sleep out for more than one night. A van was booked, directions were printed out, no sandwiches were packed (thank gawd, the last thing we needed was the rank odor of soggy tuna wafting over our slumbering heads only to abruptly choke us once we awoke) and we each packed A bag. Some were of course, larger than others.
Hey, I can’t help it if I need a god darn flat iron – being beautiful is hard work people.
R&M did most of the driving on the trip – after a few wrong turns, missed exits and re-visited toll-booths, we found our way to the Holiday Inn in Pittsburg, Transylvania. The fact that these damn yanks charge you for driving through their country is laudable enough without factoring in their insane ability to open up these 24 hour Walmarts – giving us more of a reason to render ourselves completely broke.
(Yup, count that – 41 words in 1 sentence –im a textologist and obviously a believer in run-on sentences.)
Either way, getting past our hurdles, we all got changed and drove up to the Pittsburg Temple – Temple number one on our list. I’m telling you, brown people are infamous for these religious pilgrimages (that’s actually what dad told the guy at the border – yup, me and these 6 slightly suspicious looking tanned people are crossing over for a pilgrimage - ). Tamil folk can’t seem to leave the country without mapping out and falling prey to the temple circuit.
I always question this though: does Lord Ganesh or Shiva care that you just saw him at three different places in the last 24 hours? I mean, is there such a thing as over-exposing yourself to the powers that be? And whatever happened to us experiencing our religious beliefs in an inherent, visceral manner? Not that I mind temples – I enjoy the shanti it brings me. But I can imagine M’s apprehension, his discomfort and how bloody much he must love me to put up with me and my “suddenly religious” family.
The temple was gorgeous. The lingam was ridiculously beautiful. Each deity in his /her own samaj. Each housed in magnificence, encased in enough bling to send Luda into a tizzy – the whole place was just light and flighty. I immediately fell in love with the architecture of each vestibule, simple yet complex – the perfect oxymoron and a rather impressionable one at that.
The sambar rice and the lemon rice was absolutely titillating to my taste buds. I wanted to crawl into mom’s lap and relive childhood memories. Although, amma wasn’t in many of them – the maid was. But no matter, it still brought back vibes of safety and security and fooooooood – not just a content sigh from my belly – but a tantalizing roller coaster for my palate.
I want to live in a temple. No joke, I’ve always wanted to do something religious with myself. Not join the pilgrimage circuit, but to be a part of the actual institution – I went through many a phase like the destined to be a nun, priestess, monk, tribal healer, black queen and spoken word warrior – just a few of the many that hovered on my plate. And sometimes, I still feel slivers of those yearnings haunting me. Although, I think that the food they serve at religious institutions had a little something to do with that decision.
Either way – adequately blessed and belly full – the 7 of us trudged back to the van. And that’s when we hit Target. A dream come true. I have been addicted to the Target website for weeks – printing out things, pictures, directions – virally salivating. I know they don’t ship to Canada, yet I have an online shopping cart filled to the brim in the hopes that they might change their effin policies. Thankfully, R& M made sure we made it to Target, just so that I’d quit bugging them.
God I was excited, pee my pants excited - only to realize that it was a glorified Zellers. EEEEEGADS. My dreams shot – I still managed to procure a pepto bismol pink short trench by Isaac and a pleated skirt that R thinks is absolutely hideous. She calls it my ‘slave girl’ swag. Then we hit DSW (the mecca of shoes), where M bought me the most adorable pointy toed flat Rocket Dogs (my newest obsession) and to Marshalls where I got the sexiest bra’s for $5. Through the entirety of our shop-a-thon, Amma and Appa nestled themselves in the backseat of their rental and went to sleep.
Yup, this was his birthday trip. He chose to sleep most of it away. Parents..
Either way, the shops were closing so M & R drove us back to the Inn and went exploring (aka foraging for beer). R was in heaven when he found the DSW equivalent of beer at a Beer mart. They bought back a 24 case of tallboy Coors cans. Yup, they drank all of 4 maybe. We went out for dinner sans Amma and Rashmi and then called it a night out of sheer exhaustion.
Day 2: Had some breakfast, packed up our stuff (I brought along waaaay more than I needed) and then we hit Grove City. The mecca for people who get off on outlet shopping. I think we spent a good 3 hours there and trust me, by the end of it I was bitchin belly broke but, that didn’t seem to matter. I made out great at the GAP – a yummy skirt, a khakhi blazer. I got a tee that reads “high maintenance” and appropriately so. I also got a bunch of other stuff from other places that I don’t quite remember (I’m certain that M is shaking his head in distress – my love affair with things often don’t get past the 48 hour mark).
I prefer to think of them as ‘trysts’ or ‘flings’ as opposed to affairs. Albeit I pine for them like they might be of the latter variety.
After that we drove to the Rochester temple. Well we thought that’s where we were headed but R actually took us elsewhere. Still a temple. So he can’t be blamed. Tempers were starting to flare, people were getting argumentative but by sheer luck – a couple of nice Indian fellows led us to the real temple. So we got there at like 7:30pm on a Sunday night.
Yup, 7:30 on a Sunday night and we were just starting on Temple number 2.
This temple was gorgeous – and it’s built by the sheer power and labour of volunteers. Which is quite impressive. Apparently, people travel from all over the world to help out and do some ‘seva’ (religious work) in the hopes of garnering a piece of the marketshare of the blessings that Lord Ganesh, Shiva and the crew dole out. Either way – I was blessed to be there with all the people I loved. And I would definitely like to go back.
In fact, its where I hope to get married.
One day.
No hints.
No subtle prodding.
Just the wish of a lonely little girl …. * sniff sniff*
☺
So while we were busy garnering some divine votes of confidence at the Rochester temple, M generously offered to de-tag and de-price all our procured goodies so that it passes through the border without getting taxed. He was meticulous – that’s my boy! If accounting doesn’t work out – smuggling. That’s his next big career move. And so we got everything past the border.
Yup, seven people who all spent atleast a hundred dollars a piece who voluntarily screwed the system without batting an eyelash!
I love brown people – especially the ones that belong to me.
We drove past the ‘welcome to Toronto’ sign and collectively sighed in relief. I think we pulled into our drive way around 11ish.
Tired.
Grumpy.
Sleepy.
And glad to be back home.
God, I missed Sparx and Trix.
I’m gonna assume that they missed me too.
The boys took off and we ended our weekend with watered down hugs and repeated reassurances that we had a great time.
I think the folks enjoyed it. It made them feel adequately tethered to their litter.
You see, I realized on that trip – how awesome our lives are truly going to be. The people I love, love each other. Sure they bicker. And nag. And get hostile. And sometimes claws come out. Someone loses an eye on occasion. But at the end of the night, all we seem to need to have a great time is each other.
And that reassures me.
Makes me feel complete.
This weekend was the first time the boys were invited on a sleep over trip. A huge honkin deal on Appa’s part. To him this wasn’t just a trip – this was his official welcome to the clan. Now regardless of the spine tingling undertones a la the Soprano’s – we should focus on the positive and that means that the boys have an extra place to call home.
And we have an extra bunch of hands to lift things, carry things and drive things forward.
Like the rest of our lives.
It really is fun when you find those perfect pieces that complete the puzzle.
Almost people. We are almost complete.
Next post: The drama that followed our trip to Transylvania.
Back-blogging is a pain in the ass. But it certainly makes each memory more tangible.
Oh - I also seem to have picked up a linguistic equivalent of a bad habit - i seem to have generously smattered this post with "either way this" and "either way that" - now this embarrassing boo-boo is officially done.
Monday, May 09, 2005
My segue
Admist all the activity that fill my days - i seem to have lost the one connection that my spirit needs: this blog.
Life has been absolutely manic - highs, lows, tempramental and rather deranged. I'm stumbling and falling and bruising my knee in places that have been bruised before. And boy does it hurt. It sucks to re-skin a pre-skinned part of your body. It burns - lingeringly. And unbeknowst to my rational self - my emotional psyche has melodramatically flipped the script on my ass. More on this will surely follow - i promise.
I've got multiple weeks of eventful days to scribe - roadtrips with the fam, roadtrips with M, dinner with S, fights/scuffles/joys, lunch with my grandma, endless visits to the doctor and of course, my love-hate relationship with the enemy in white. Weeks of pure joy and pure pain. It's ironic how all of life's greatest moments arrive packaged neatly in a dichotomy.
Well, thats how all of mine arrived.
But in the meantime and the in-between time - here's a little something that Aunty Madge sent to all her loved ones. I'm blessed to be on that list and it tickles me pink to know that M's momma loves the bejeesus out of me! Weee! That's one thing in my existence thats going just right. Anyways, she sent out a little something that works as a beautiful reminder of what human beings unconsciously do. A reminder of how desperately short and potentially sublime this life could be. And most importantly, a reminder that we control the good, the bad and the ugly in this lifetime.
More will come. Soon. Pinky-swear.
----
When is Now
We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that, we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage. We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, when we are able to go on a nice vacation or when we retire. The truth is there's no better time to be happy than right now.
If not now, when?
Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time with. Remember that time waits for no one.
So, stop waiting .
Until your car or home is paid off.
Until you get a new car or home.
Until your kids leave the house.
Until you go back to school.
Until you finish school.
Until you lose 10 lbs.
Until you gain 10 lbs.
Until you get married.
Until you get a divorce.
Until you have kids.
Until you retire.
Until summer..
Until spring.
Until winter
Until fall.
Until you die.
There is no better time than right now to be happy. Happiness is a journey, not a destination.
So work like you don't need money, love like you've never been hurt and dance like no one's watching.
----
i thought this was fitting for all the right reasons. I for one, hope that i have the foresight to remember this lesson every time i feel like life will be better when......
until soon
be blessed
j
Life has been absolutely manic - highs, lows, tempramental and rather deranged. I'm stumbling and falling and bruising my knee in places that have been bruised before. And boy does it hurt. It sucks to re-skin a pre-skinned part of your body. It burns - lingeringly. And unbeknowst to my rational self - my emotional psyche has melodramatically flipped the script on my ass. More on this will surely follow - i promise.
I've got multiple weeks of eventful days to scribe - roadtrips with the fam, roadtrips with M, dinner with S, fights/scuffles/joys, lunch with my grandma, endless visits to the doctor and of course, my love-hate relationship with the enemy in white. Weeks of pure joy and pure pain. It's ironic how all of life's greatest moments arrive packaged neatly in a dichotomy.
Well, thats how all of mine arrived.
But in the meantime and the in-between time - here's a little something that Aunty Madge sent to all her loved ones. I'm blessed to be on that list and it tickles me pink to know that M's momma loves the bejeesus out of me! Weee! That's one thing in my existence thats going just right. Anyways, she sent out a little something that works as a beautiful reminder of what human beings unconsciously do. A reminder of how desperately short and potentially sublime this life could be. And most importantly, a reminder that we control the good, the bad and the ugly in this lifetime.
More will come. Soon. Pinky-swear.
----
When is Now
We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that, we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage. We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, when we are able to go on a nice vacation or when we retire. The truth is there's no better time to be happy than right now.
If not now, when?
Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time with. Remember that time waits for no one.
So, stop waiting .
Until your car or home is paid off.
Until you get a new car or home.
Until your kids leave the house.
Until you go back to school.
Until you finish school.
Until you lose 10 lbs.
Until you gain 10 lbs.
Until you get married.
Until you get a divorce.
Until you have kids.
Until you retire.
Until summer..
Until spring.
Until winter
Until fall.
Until you die.
There is no better time than right now to be happy. Happiness is a journey, not a destination.
So work like you don't need money, love like you've never been hurt and dance like no one's watching.
----
i thought this was fitting for all the right reasons. I for one, hope that i have the foresight to remember this lesson every time i feel like life will be better when......
until soon
be blessed
j
Friday, April 22, 2005
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Hiatus
Everyone, and by default everything, in this lifetime needs a break.
this was one of those times - and I gave myself permission to relinquish control of VN.
My life right now is chaotic to say the least: amongst the hectic that reeks of spoilt milk lays the good - nestled in clusters that are few and far between. I needed a break from myself. A well deserved time out for introspection or perhaps to fulfill my path of continual denial. So here i am, back - broken, displaced but back.
work: resembles the makings of a brothel - fickle, unstable and irresponsisble. The account team is driving me up the wall. The miscommunication sucks. But the work still keeps the home fires spittin for change
my fam: its's new years today and i didnt even remember - so that pretty much tells you where my head is at. I miss em so much. especially sparky - i never do right by him and im pretty sure ive saved myself a spot in hell because of it.
my man: 2 years was bliss. Behind millions of gallons of speedy water i once again fell in love with the sparkle in his eyes. Im sorry for neglecting you for so long. Thank you for being so patient about all of this. I God-promise i'm worth the heartache. I wish we could have a do-over, not because i regret anything or want to fix anything but simply because i'd like to selfishly relive monday. april 11th = bliss. (oh, and i got an iPod - a 20 gigger - i dont know what Im gonna do with all that space but wooohooo its all mine - thanks shugz)
health: my rollercoaster of revelations. I ignore it, regret it, fix it, ignore it, regret it...see a pattern? yup. i never learn. my side hurts - A tells me its probably a kidney infection. Either way, the clinic called and my test results are back - they urgently need to see me. god knows that doesnt sound too good. But i guess now is not a time for reflection - now is a time to pick up the pieces and learn how to put em back together.
April 13th - Happy New Year. A day that i used to look forward to in my childhood. Something about milk rice sprinkled with sugar crystals. The shanti of the temple. The ringing bells, the prayers chanted, the musical renditions of blue-toned spirituality. I miss it all. I miss peace. I miss Aiyappan. I miss being alone.
It's ironic, i always dreamt that i would one day live the dream. And i am - finally! But what was the price? i lost the jana-manual and i feel like im floundering - as im trying hard to repiece my identity.
the drama never stops especially when you're a drama queen.
Be blessed.
this was one of those times - and I gave myself permission to relinquish control of VN.
My life right now is chaotic to say the least: amongst the hectic that reeks of spoilt milk lays the good - nestled in clusters that are few and far between. I needed a break from myself. A well deserved time out for introspection or perhaps to fulfill my path of continual denial. So here i am, back - broken, displaced but back.
work: resembles the makings of a brothel - fickle, unstable and irresponsisble. The account team is driving me up the wall. The miscommunication sucks. But the work still keeps the home fires spittin for change
my fam: its's new years today and i didnt even remember - so that pretty much tells you where my head is at. I miss em so much. especially sparky - i never do right by him and im pretty sure ive saved myself a spot in hell because of it.
my man: 2 years was bliss. Behind millions of gallons of speedy water i once again fell in love with the sparkle in his eyes. Im sorry for neglecting you for so long. Thank you for being so patient about all of this. I God-promise i'm worth the heartache. I wish we could have a do-over, not because i regret anything or want to fix anything but simply because i'd like to selfishly relive monday. april 11th = bliss. (oh, and i got an iPod - a 20 gigger - i dont know what Im gonna do with all that space but wooohooo its all mine - thanks shugz)
health: my rollercoaster of revelations. I ignore it, regret it, fix it, ignore it, regret it...see a pattern? yup. i never learn. my side hurts - A tells me its probably a kidney infection. Either way, the clinic called and my test results are back - they urgently need to see me. god knows that doesnt sound too good. But i guess now is not a time for reflection - now is a time to pick up the pieces and learn how to put em back together.
April 13th - Happy New Year. A day that i used to look forward to in my childhood. Something about milk rice sprinkled with sugar crystals. The shanti of the temple. The ringing bells, the prayers chanted, the musical renditions of blue-toned spirituality. I miss it all. I miss peace. I miss Aiyappan. I miss being alone.
It's ironic, i always dreamt that i would one day live the dream. And i am - finally! But what was the price? i lost the jana-manual and i feel like im floundering - as im trying hard to repiece my identity.
the drama never stops especially when you're a drama queen.
Be blessed.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Young Creatives Competition
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.
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.
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.
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