Decluttering

well, more like a painful separation that i'm forcing myself through.

As a shopaholic fashionista (yup, self proclamation) I seem to have amassed quite the wardrobe. Enough to overflow out of the confines of my size 8 shoe box bedroom. It must be a cruel cruel joke played by the powers that be (and my insightful father) - because I (the girl with waaay too many clothes/jackets/wearable items) got the smallest room in the house sans a closet of any kind. So i've been McGuyvering it to make it all work.

Until recently, that is.

I realized that the more I hold onto - the less space I have to fill up. Which theoretically should make me happy considering my unemployed state of being. But no siree - not me. I've embarked on a journey that I should've aeons ago - one that involves decluttering my closet in the hopes of decluttering my life. Organization my ass! This is painful people.

Think of someone maliciously pulling out every single eyelash on your pretty little peepers and then letting it kiss a flame from a defunct zippo. Yup. That's the feeling. Painful.

Most of the things i hold on to and never ever wear come complete with cobwebs and memories. Ones that i can't bear to part with. Call it immaturity or gluttony but regardless of what you name the beast it comes down to the stripping of walls. Well built, well placed walls that protect the Jana fortress. Much like my suit of armour, my act of bravado - so is my closet. Filled to the brim with old memories allowing me to believe that my life is full and complete. With no extra place for newness.

Should work again - theoretically. It works with the emotional and pyschological hoarding. Not so much with the clothing. I still go out and blow my pittance of a savings account on clothing. An addiction. So today - I'm decluttering.

(Note to self: wear protective armour while partaking in this activity. I have a tendency of hurting people (including myself)who try to throw out my precious belongings) - brackets within brackets - I am a veritable scholar.

So long story short - here is a little something that was plastered on a once gorgeous black tee. It's from the early 90's - when i was pro-feminist to the point of puking, obviously had no style (this tee could be a dress), wore lots of lycra regardless of my chunky behind and figured it all made sense in my head. Boy was I wrong...but some of the RULES on my tee (think it was a souvenir from our first trip to Niagara Falls - don't judge people - even diva's were fobs at one point)still ring true.

--
Here they are:

The Rules
1. The female always makes the rules
2. No male can possibly know the rules
3. If the female suspects the male knows all the rules, she must immediately change some of the rules
4. The female is never wrong
5. The female can change her mind at any given point of time
6. The female has every right to be angry or upset at any time
7. The male must remain calm at ALL times, unless the female wants him to be angry, or upset
8. The female must under no circumstances let the male know whether or not she wants him to be angry, or upset.
9. If the female has PMS,all rules are null and void
10. The male cannot diagnose PMS.

--

Sad isn't it? Yet, still funny. Got a little chuckle out of me.

But adios long-black- overly-stretched-out tee, you've been good to me. Through years of all nighters, ugly bouts of "I'm pmsing buzz off", prolonged sad sessions and heart breaks. You will be remembered fondly but all good things must come to an end at some point.

And this would be THAT point for you.

Urgh...back to work jana. Chop Chop! After all decluttering is a humane activity. It lets your once useful recently defunct clothing rest in peace. And simultaneously welcomes your brand spanking new items into a spacious home.

I wonder if this would count as my good deed for the day...

Dolly's heaven bound

A condensed version of the weekend - my attempt at chronicling an all around feel good vacay!

Friday's Festivities

Friday night was tremendously entertaining - I attended a Taize prayer session at Aunty M's local church. Now now, hold your horses there girlies - Nope, i'm still not switching religious teams but there's nothing wrong with a little extra curricular flirtation. It was calm, peaceful and soothing. An hour of latin chants, candle lighting and no touching of strangers (that's the one thing that irks me about Jesus' clan - they actively reach out and shake each other's hands in the hopes of passing on peace). All in all it was lovely. Dim lights, a near empty chapel, a gorgeously understated hour of spiritual R&R. I relaxed and let the sonorous chants wash my woes away.

We closed up friday night with a viewing of North Country (definitely an Oscar contender) that was both inspiring and angering. Women take too much crap and it's about time some of us stood up and claimed a little bit of dignity back from them XY chromosomed creeps. Although, as the words leave my fingertips I'm quick to realize that this world is also filled with vicious women who have contributed more than their fair share to all sorts of discriminatory practices. Perhaps next time around, I'm going to ask to come back as water - real yet transcending this reality. A late night chow down at Tremendous more than filled the void that the ridiculously good popcorn didn't - and with that Aunty M chased me out of her peripheral vision and welcomed some much needed shut eye.

Saturday Stories

*** i think i waited too long to complete this entry because I can't for the life of me recall what happened during the rest of this weekend. However, stay tuned folks - lots has happened and with the new year you're bound to find a whole slew of new and hopefully entertaining posts. Until then - godbless***

P.S. I got me a fotolog: www.fotolog.com/soulsysta - niiiiice.

Creme de la creme

today an oxymoron swaddled me like new borns are - part suffocation, part comfort -
part joy, part sorrow as i realized the one truity in my existence:

while i know many - i only love a few.

and whilst one might believe that with age you gather the bag of tricks that is necessary to form a larger (and cohesive) group of buddies - i disagree because if i didn't that would mean that i've failed. And THAT my dear friends would be a damn shame.

however, the few that are loved and adored and revered in my circle will always be accepted - flaws, ticks, quirks and all.
i know, i am quite giving innit?

what brought this suffocating realization on?
blogs.

i stumbled upon a group of blogs - strong, eloquent south asian women across the USofA - who have fallen in the throes of friendship with each other - going as far as travelling thousands of kms to grab a weekend bite and make a few cherishable memories. awww right?

well guess what - i don't have that.

a part of me, the imp that lives within, wishes i did.
a group of people to whom appearances don't matter - to whom words, experiences, revelations set the tone, demeanor and interactions that ensue. a group of people not bonded by the activities they partake in but in the collective emotional growth and failures that they experience.

huh.

reeks a lot like the relationship i have with the inner circle.
and perhaps that's my larger woe - i'm too afriad to realize that i've already got everything that i'll ever need to make this life memorable.

this weekend - i promise to conquer that beast of emotional dissonance.

and if that fails, heck - at least i'll meringue my ass out of this insiduous funk.

Give and Take

or is it just take take take?

These days, considering how far most of us single gals have come - I wonder if we have lost the ability to have a relationship that's filled with equity. An equal measure of give and take. I wonder if we've grown overly accustomed to catering all our needs first and foremost thereby, forgetting the needs of those that integrate themselves into our existence.

Being in a monogamous relationship for two and a half years and counting - I speak from experience when I say that it's probably the toughest hurdle that one must overcome. I got lucky you see, I have a man who understands that I'm not the greatest at giving and sadly, well equipped in the "taking" department. My wonderful man goes out of the way to school me on the art of balance - a man who is deliciously wrapped in patience and tolerance. Unfortunately not all of us get that lucky.


So how does one deal?

A) Take until the giving runs dry and move on to the next veritable well of generosity
B) Change our inner sanctum of beliefs (Blasphemous I know! but really, more like nudge things around to give a little)
C) Give up. Call it "hard work". Deem it unfit in relationship terms and kick him to the curb.
D) Compromise (the ugly ugly c word for most independent minded singletons)
E) Sift through all those options, look into his eyes and realize that small concessions must be made in order to bask in that blessed divinity.

Huh. Options. Options. Options people.

And at the end of the day - it all boils down to how badly does this one person matter? Is the family outing, the boys night out, an all testosterone poker party - little things - do those matter more than the comfort of the nook you find somewhere between his side and his arm?

Guiltily, I admit I expect my boytoy to go out of his way to attend all family functions, cultural outings, events that make him squirm in his undies and leave him itching to flee - and when he refuses - I balk. I stare at him and think - the AUDACITY to even attempt to duck out of an obligation. Gosh, shouldn't he love me more?

Yet, that very same sentiment is lost when it's his turn to ask a favor. The double standard does exist and I think that every relationship harbors it in its own special secret hiding place. All this was brought on by a mild confrontation that lil R had with B - two souls trying hard to integrate two lifetimes into one love story. Lovely isn't it? Human beings are damn interesting - especially when their emotions are involved. We become children drawing that imaginary line that separates the "us" from "them” all the while forgetting that at the end of the day - we're on the same team just trying to make things peachy for everyone involved.

Dilemma's galore. If anyone figures it out, please feel free to drop me a line and edumacate my broke ass soul.

Im drenched. Literally. The gods that be must be brawlin about something fierce because they've unleashed their watery wrath in bucketfuls. And unawares, I caught myself amidst their row. Not the first and certainly not the last. But, as my fingers freeze over I realize - I relish these moments of absolute clarity.

God Bless.
J

Another shot at stardom

This evening I've got a meeting with a certain CD of a very reputable ad agency. I've heard great things about both the shop and the people that work there.

While, the word on the street is that they may be looking for a jr. copywhore - im not going to get too excited. After all, cautious optimism is the way to go.

Goodluck me. I hope we kick some serious behind.

But in the offchance that we don't, just remember - we will be fine.

Cheers.

Rubbish or trash - talking?

In a world where people focus on fulfilling the "right now" - with things such as disposable camera's, disposable lunch boxes and disposable diapers (to name a few) - how disposable are people?

In a recently heated debate, two star crossed lovers (read: 54 kms apart) debated the pros and cons of just that sentiment. The estrogen, alive and kickin for over a 1/4 of a century - proposed that people are replaceable. They have to be in order to survive. At least from her limited experiences. Situations have painted her into a corner - into believing that the only people you can't replace in this world are the people you are born with. Ultimately, they are also the only people you can truly trust. Because other people such as friends, acquaintances, shit - boyfriends even, have to be deemed replaceable in order to protect the frail spirited. You see, people who are disposable can't possibly bludgeon your heart and shatter it to smithereens because well, you can replace them before reciting the entirety of the alphabet.

Now, is that horribly jaded or just plain pragmatic?

Does one have to feel obliged to deem someone indispensible/irreplaceable if they happened to love the said other? Can't we just get along by agreeing to disagree?

A tiny voice in one lonely crevice cries out against this blatant stupidity. "Hell no" she screams. "You cannot believe that the love of your life is replaceable"

And then reality kicks in.

I thought my grandma was for eternity and loved her as such. Loved her in ways that only 6 years olds can. And lost her to a context that made absolutely no sense to me. So lesson 1: when you love someone like they are your own they become indispensable - thereby leaving you seriously screwed when they disappear.

You can't blame a girl for self preservation. It might be childish to some - or heck, even most of you - but honestly - inside this twenty something year old woman searching to establish an identity lies that emotionally raw 6 year old. Still clutching on to an imaginary hand that had already let go.

So disposable or not - that's how the story ends.Unfortunately while some of us brave the realities of heartache and admit to never being able to replace or dispose of certain ties that bind...others of us find solace in knowing that only a handful of people in the entire world have the ultimate power to completely annihalate them.

Preservation - good. Extinction - not so much.

Having said that, i sincerely hope that one day that "said other" will become part of my real family - and when that happens - he will bring with him a pod to connect. And while net sharing can be a gloriously generous activity - pod sharing can get quite complicated. So here's me - eager to share my pod and my home with the love of my life all the while knowing that i have just opened myself up to being hurt by 4 more people.

Note to self: Don't fall in love again. This is a deceptively dangerous activity especially for a chicken shit such as said self.

Yet, another dilemma locked into the vault.
God Bless.

P.S. The yorkdale trip left my inner fashionista starving. Stella's stuff was gone within the first half hour of her debut. She was ravenously devoured by a pack of hungry chic wolverines leaving me remnants that couldn't be recycled. Three bikini's and a chain link purse - yup, that's all they left behind. And even that had a waiting list of piranha's willing to bite. Oh well. Adios Stella - we shall meet again. And next time - maybe it will be in person. ;)

Whew

over-reacted.

called yorkdale
there's a tiny weeny little selection left
some returns from yesterdays madness

so new plans for the afternoon
drive to yorkdale

im not vain people
i just keep it real'

;)

SOLD OUT

So, imagine my wrath when i called H&M at Scarborough Town Centre to inqure if they were carrying McCartney's hot new budget line of couture - only to find out that THEY ARE SOLD OUT.

SOLD OUT on BLOOR
and
you guessed it
SOLD OUT at Yorkdale

How do you sell out of an entire LINE of clothing and accessories in HALF a BLOODY EFFIN DAY.

grrr.

now my dreams of owning ONE measely piece of McCartney will wither and die in oblivion.

to the biatches who bought all the shit - i hope you trip, fall and possibly rip the McCartney that should've been mine.

anger.
yup, it's still red.

Seven.

Okay, this insightful quiz is courtesy of Sibil, (aka, In Transit). Lucky number 7!

7 things I plan to do before I die:

1). Write a book. Publish said book (s).
2). Travel the world & capture it all on black&white film
3). Buy my baby 3rd row courtside basketball tickets for an entire season
4). Own a beautiful house and turn it into a sensational home complete with all my loved ones
5). Live in New York for a couple months and just write.
6). Acquire a few pieces of couture (Coco Chanel, Luis, Blahnik..etc)
7). Have good credit (well, this might be something that I carry over into my next lifetime)

7 things I can do:

1). Spot a new trend in almost anything
2). Write deliciously (albeit when the mood strikes)
3). Be the protector of my litter
4). Get lost even with the greatest directions
5). have a great conversation.
6). cook yummy meals (so long as there’s cable modem in the building).
7). Sell snow to an eskimo/convince myself of anything

7 things I cannot do:
1). Be away from my family for prolonged periods of time
2). complicated numbers – especially while I’m shopping
3). stop drinking coffee.
4). be quiet (unless it’s early morning).
5). resist a great author, a great cup of coffee and a little me time
6). be alone for long periods of time.
7). tolerate stupidity or fools

7 things that attract me to another person:

1). A great smile (the kind that tickles your pupils)
2). Smart/witty repertoire.
3). Manners/etiquette.
4). Individuality/ Comfort in their own skin (quirky)
5). Spontaneity (something I sorely lack)
6). the ability to think outside the box (especially with fashion)
7). Authenticity ( an inimitable spirit)

7 things that I say most often:

1). Shit outta luck
2). Hey buddy
3). OMG!
4). Innit!
5). No freaking way!
6). Now, that’s fabulous!
7). I’m sorry. (what? People are sooo overly-sensitive)

7 People I want to do this:
1). Mikes
2). My dad (that’d be interesting)
3). My sisters
4). Subashini
5). Aunty Madge (she’s crazy banana’s)
6). Priya/Sherry/Mich/Tash (cuz I know lots of little things but not the important ones – like these – insert eye rolling here)
7). Abu ( she’s blood but I still don’t know her very well)

Unemployed or on-vacation?

This is the question that's been plaguing me since the unfortunate event of my dismissal. Yes I know, I wasn't fired - I was merely restructured out of a job. Yet, these days, that certainly gets lost in translation as I parlay the news to friends, family and the general public. It seems that a lot more people are strangely curious about my employment status now that I find myself shit out of luck on the job front.

So how does a seemingly well adjusted, articulate young writer make a buck in this city? Is it re-jigging my life? My brain? Trading something in or up? Or merely letting go of everything?

Perusing through the dailies one thing is for certain. Successful writers are successful only after they have succumbed to the wrath of the powers that be. That to be successful (in terms defined by society and Webster’s) one must undergo hardship, chaos and general pathos. Tragic isn’t it? So I’ve lifted the ban that I’ve tacked on myself. I am no longer enslaved by mere verbiage. Instead, I’ve found solace within that very term.

I am woman, albeit an unemployed one, hear me roar!

Meow.

Okay, so perhaps the battle cry needs a little more oomph. But that's merely a technicality of life isn’t it? When one door closes another one opens - in some cases, it’s just a window. Not one of those beautiful see-the-ocean- feel-it bay windows where you can swiftly enter without crumpling up your new "take on the world" suit, not even a nicely sized see-the-world-through-this-hole window that you can make it through crinkle free but a grungy attic window. The type that requires a certain sense of agility to crawl through. I reckon being anorexic would also help.

Unfortunately blessed with a healthy gait, a dislike for crawling and a fear of creepy crawlies (that inevitably live in such environments) - I have decided to take this time off. Now, now, there’s no reason to freak out. It's not like im refusing to apply for jobs (both inside and outside the confines of the alphabet) but merely, to take things as they come along. To help my brain learn to let go of pre-conceived bliss that comes with a pre-requisite of achieving certain goals on a certain someone's deadline.

Reading through Oprah's magazine (she is my spiritual bible) I read an article that focused on goals, more specifically the benefit of lacking goals. It basically said that defined goals are similar to putting blinders on - they hinder you from seizing the day and exploring the back roads in life. Written based on the experiences of 200 successful entrepreneurs, philanthropists and business folk - it brings to light their journey to success. None of them ended up where they thought they would. None of them partook in the straight road instead winging it through a circuitous path to bliss. The pith is as follows: Being aspirational is okay. Being goal oriented is damaging. And in those 2000 words (no, I didn't count them - I mean I'm unemployed but I’m still not a loser - that's tomorrows task) I realized that's what I’ve been doing.

I've been waiting for my elusive "In a few years" - I’ve used and abused that term in the worst of times. I've cluttered my advertising existence with "well, its hard now and draining but in a few years I'll be happy"/ "I've gotta succumb to the decision makers now and stifle my spirit but in a few years it'll all be worth it". But honestly, will it? Will it really be worth it? Will I really find utter joy in being accomplished or will it merely open another window/door or mail slot into a world of more goals? OR at least chasing more goals. Will I ever be happy if my joy is dependent on achieving goals that are largely defined by the context my situation?

Any takers? Because I for one realized that no I probably won't. With a type A, obsessive-compulsive, extremist personality such as mine - happiness will always evade me. Always. Because I wouldn't know how to recognize it after all the hunting, chasing and stalking of those very goals. See the vicious cycle? It’s scary how much control my brain has over my life. It is. Especially because my brain wants to control the world without ever giving me the chance to take a chance. Without ever realizing that to write I must be inspired by smelling the roses or the coffee or the stench of putrid poo (whatever the case may be). My brain has me trapped.

So I’m going to take a break. Re-program my brain waves. Let myself realize that if I happen to fall into something that isn't advertising - that's fine. That perhaps that is what life is. Finding a lot and making a garden.

Although considering my sore-nurturing skills - this promises to be a task in and of itself.

So for the next few weeks - I’ll be filling this space with a lot more writing and a lot less hiding.

I tend to do that - hide when my goals are threatened. God, you'd think they control me. Maybe that's why writers/artists/us creative types have such a hard time before we embrace success. We tend to let our goals, our perceptions of joy, our over-blown grandiose productions of what life should be and what happiness should mean overshadow the reality of it all. We miss out on real things because we're preoccupied in the imaginary. Escapism at its best.

While my imagination paints a happily ever after only in advertising - I wonder if I could find that happily ever after in other things. Time is of the essence people - and if the sagging breasts aren't a great indication of that - the tiny lines that cocoon my peepers of times past certainly is.

Explore my little minnow - that's my new mantra. Let’s see how long this gimmick lasts. Because if I know my brain, and I do, it rarely settles for life without a deadline driven plan.

I am forcing my brain into introspective mode, aka vacation mode. Woo-hoo time to bust out some flip flops and a girly magazine. And a small piece of scrap paper in the event I feel the need to re-write my five year plan.

hrmph. There it goes again. Oh brain, why won't you ever listen to pinky.

Until tomorrow, god bless.

Unrestful

nights.

followed by restless days.

I'm starting to think that i missed one piece of vital information somewhere alongst the chain. I keep calling all these creative directors - leaving them all these messages and 2 - COUNT THAT 2 - people have gotten back to me.

and it's haunting me.

i can't sleep at night because of this blessed trinity of reasons.
1. im worried about the suckyness of my book
2. im worried that nobody seems to return phone calls
3. im scared out of my mind that im going to be unemployed forever

man. what can i do?
what should i do?
this is probably what a man shooting blanks feels on a daily basis.


help.

First shot out of the gates

and it was hell.

i expected comfort but instead i was welcomed by approximately 7 mins of disappointment.

1st meeting and it already seems hopeless.

the soundtrack in my head is actually a mantra: have faith lil minnow. have faith.

grr.

boredom killed the jana

ironic.
that's the new definition of my life.

i'm stuck yet unglued.

feels like this is what happens when a hair thin crack appears on exquisite porcelain
it's perfect to those who haven't studied it
and revoltingly real to those who have.


i feel that way right now.
wrinkled, cracked, damaged
yet strangely still intact.

grr.
help.

Last rites

it's ironic really.
that the middle of the day
right before a long weekend
would be spent saying goodbye - not for right now but for a long long time.

today i will be making my last "official" trip into work.
ex-work.
M & I will pack up my wares
and move to hawking it elsewhere.

this certainly feels like the end of something..
and i just might need some kleenex

right now feels like a time of mourning

mourning over the loss of a partner
more than a job
mourning over the loss of great people
more than a great creative shop
mourning the end of idealism
but realizing that it was inevitable..

BUT i have to remind myself that
this is merely the end of one chapter
and i'm certain that whatever awaits me
will be filled with loveliness
be it within the realm of advertising or not.

so that's me folks.

vulnerable again

but this time, i realize the number of lovely people i have in my life.

my immediate fam, M's fam, S&Magic
The girls: Princess, Pri, Bear, Mich, D and their respective men
T&J and Baby R and all the rest of them (R&V, R&N, H2O, Lady Hawk, Noto and others) who've made it a point to reach out and pass on a big ole "get better" hug.

i appreciate it you guys.
so much.
and the older i get, there's one more thing i'm certain of:
i'm blessed to be so loved.

the next time i post, i'll be a free :{ writer.

peace.

Let go

huh.

that's pretty much the resounding feeling on my end.
huh!

unexpected.
it dropped yesterday
B's fine, i however, not so much.

i will be cleaning out my things
and moving on - solo
tomorrow.

wish me luck people
yet another scary chapter awaits my arrival

now if only i can peel myself away from my hiding place of tears
i should be okay.

guess karma is a bitch
except i dont remember what i did to deserve this

forecast: better things to come in the near future
or atleast that's what i keep telling my poor shoddy self.

for those who know me and love me - my new email address is the following:
firstname.lastname@rogers.com

please keep in touch, cuz i need all the comfort i can get.
especially right now.

bleh.

Keyword: compromise.

OMG: 5 more days until Appa and R get home. The countdown begins.
--
This weekend was a learner. Nope, not a euphemism for anything. It means exactly what it says. I learned a lot more this weekend about “realationships” than ever before. I finally, yes I know it took me a while, figured out this compromise thing or at least what I need to do to make things bearable and shoot, even just kosher. It’s a lot of work people, this relationship thing. That might also explain why I shyed away from being committed during the bulk of my 20’s. It’s just too much work.

Friday: Magic’s Big Chill birthday night. He loved the magic bullet and I’m mad excited to drop by and test it out. The crowd: so so. The food: absolutely scrumptious. S: such a diplomatic wifey. I learned a lot from her that night. I realized that sometimes you’ve gotta grit your teeth and grin through the unbearable. To realize that you might not have much in common with your partners pals but to understand their importance in his existence. And to let it flow. That’s what I learned. You have to let things go. M&I got into a massive kerkuffle after we abruptly departed from their crib. You see, M doesn’t dig the whole scarborough scene. Unfortunately, I was born into it. While “ghettoness” doesn’t define any of the members of the inner circle, we’re all well versed in adapting to it, tolerating it and oftentimes feigning enjoyment through it. M was born with a defective gene – he can only take so much ghettoness. (according to my mom that’s a blessing in disguise – I guess I should feel lucky in the knowledge that he’d never subject me to uncomfortable situations) Yet, I’ve broken the pack. And I, blind to this fact, subject him to the ghetto-ness he despises on a weekly basis (or so it seems) in the name of “love”.

Moral of the story: I promise to ask him if he’d like to join in on the ghetto rumble before subjecting him to it. And in the event he doesn’t feel up to it, I promise to let it go and enjoy the evening solo. Pinky swear. Finally, he can look forward to choices and options. ☺

Sat: completely chill. Took care of my dear momma whose got 5 stitches between her thumb and index finger. A duel she had with a green pepper and an obnoxious knife. She’s been out of commission for the last 5 days. I never realized just how much she does for us – how much she does to make sure that the house runs as smoothly and as seamlessly as it does. She works hard to make our brick house, a home. And it’s been another well deserved lesson. I’d also like to thank the powers that be for R who so willingly abandoned his own mom on moving day (rip:203) to drive mine to the emergency. And to M who chauffered her to some vital appointments on Friday even though he’s got a huge FA4 demon to slay. And to little R whose trying her best to keep up with all these changes. Oh yes, and we also watched A lot like love on sat night. Surprisingly, okay. I’d watch it again. Me thinks. I also spent a good chunk of the weekend shopping for baby R’s birthday basket. While I’m sure that everyone is going to bombard her with tacky outfits and gold jewelry, M &I are hell bent on making the kid smart as a whip. Hopefully, she’ll take to all the educational cajoling.

Sun: Spent the morning with baby R, T&J in their beautiful “almost” Brampton home. It was fun just kicking it with her. She’s so animated now – full of expressions and hours of watchable fun. I can see her emerging personality – she promises to be quick witted, quick tempered and incredibly possessive. Woot! Another little me. After a lunch of jerk chicken and some more crawling on all fours, we headed out to M’s house. And of course, it was a pleasure seeing Aunty. I haven’t actually chilled with her in so long.
Another lesson: When I first met M’s mom, I thought to myself – she will be my undoing. She seemed remote, removed and just cold. And now, I can’t believe how loved I feel whenever im with them. They try their hardest to make me feel like I belong and I am so lucky. Cuz honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better family to hang out with. I watched my usually-shy mom hanging out with Aunty and Uncle and realized that things will be okay. My life, if it were to change in a unionized manner, would be a-okay. My fam will get along famously with my extended fam. I think last night, I stumbled upon the realization that I kinda sorta love them. Weird. But, true. It felt a lot like love. I’m not sure if it truly was but it sure had the same type of accompaniments. I saw all of em sitting in the living room shooting the shit and it whacked me upside my head: OMG, I’m so in love with this.

This being that feeling of purely seamless integration. Scientifically speaking, it’s the super-gene. When two totally unrelated strands are joined together and they take to each other. A transplant almost – but of a mutual nature.

Blissed out. It almost makes me forget that my blood sugar is out of control. Almost makes me forget that I still need to tackle this beast that breathes inside me. It also almost makes me remember how badly I want to stick around to see all this play out. So, new resolution for the day. Oprah says you can do anything once you sit your brain down and say “I decide to…”. So, I decide to quit smoking. I had what I hope is my last one (for a while) today. I’m not going to purchase a pack (as I often do on a Monday). The hardest part is not the cravings. It’s the habitual nature of this game. Its ritualistic. And that’s so much tougher to crack. But heck, no pain no gain.

So wish me luck as I try to ween myself off this crap. My clothes will thank me and hopefully, if I’m strong enough about this I’ll be around to watch all this loveliness unfold. I mean, I’ve got baby R to train into the nouveau fem intellect she promises to be. I’ve got Rsquared and their epic to follow. And R&B’s love story to watch unfold. I’ve got so much to do and I just hope that my self control doesn’t fall through.

I already feel brand new.
No I don’t. I just figured that was a good way to end a piece like this.
The sad truth: my throat is closing in at the thought of changing things.

The older I get the more I realize how much I hate, change.

Happy Monday.

Alas, the scent of autumn is here.

The weather is our seasonal cowbell. Ringing torturously, it signals the changing time. In this case, the coming of fall.

It’s quite the foreboding sign when you wake up and realize that it’s too bloody chilly to walk out wearing a tank top with no cover. For people like myself who didn’t consider the recent tornado alert and flooding to be a sign of seasonal change – the wardrobe re-think certainly is. And if that’s not enough – its CNE time.

Quite frankly though, a secret part of me – that hides in fear of public flogging – loves the fall. The sense of change, of evolution, of something anything to mix things up. However, that secret part of me hides quivering behind the truth that with fall comes the torment of winter. Brrr.

Philosophical meanderings aside – here’s the synopsis for the weekend.

Friday night we convened at Red Lobster – the regular crew to celebrate M’s new job. As always we shared lots of laughs, our hidden fears, a few friendly jabs and tones of unwanted advise. M starts her gig today. I’m sure she’s going to be wonderful at it. Her nerves are a sign that her psychological self understands the hugeness of this step – we’re all grown up. Literally.

P & S are my very own Bridget Jones’ – minus the overt desperation that the aforementioned wears as her cloak. These girls are smart, sexy, salacious, strong and surprisingly single. Go figure! This city is either filled with men who are bordering on legal blindness or metrosexuals too afraid of a strong woman. I’m willing to bet it’s a little bit of both. After all, I’d be afraid of painting myself into the idiotbox with an opinionated woman as well. No matter, things will be exactly as they were destined to be – unless you build a fort and hide behind it for fear of getting ouched. We’re gonna run a little experiment that mirrors ABC’s (or is it NBC’s) Hooking Up. Independent women sifting through profiles of hopefully independent men, online. I still have to work out the semantics of it all before I open a veritable pandora’s box. Stay tuned.

Sat – the big chill. Mom, R & me ran some errands, did some chores and then plopped on her bed and watched a hindi movie. Yup, it was soo nice. The movie itself was sub-par but the actual activity of relaxing with my mom was amazing. I tend to forget how awesome she is – how much she does for us – how badly she wants to shelter us from everything – how much she misses dad. I tend to forget all the reasons why I should be forever indebted to her – and why I should be grateful for having the privilege of being one part Mrs. R.

Sat night: S&Magic, R (minus his R) and M&I showed up massively late for a surprise birthday party. Surprise! It was nerve wracking. Tamil people (young or old) mixed with alcohol never makes for good clean fun. Instead, it was a bombardment of noise, chaos and drunken misbehavior. Magic and I decided that we hate surprises. No massively embarrassing moments for us thank you. We’ll just do regular chill sessions minus the drunken unmanageable crowds. R, we decided loves to be in the thick of things. Poor kid, he misses my sister madly. However, he is quite smart because he told me straight up – once R gets back – I get her all of Friday. Woo! After the fete we went back to S&Magics place and hung out on the front porch. Now, that was an awesome way to end a hectic evening. Flare magazine had this article on “hiving” – it’s this phenomenon that’s taking the twenty something to thirty something generation by storm. Instead of going out and getting lushed – the trend is to invite friends over to your home and get lushed. A variation of cocooning but heck, it’s far more enjoyable than screaming “excuse me, would you mind taking your massive girth off my feet?” at some anonymous club.

Sunday – work. And work is still love, actualized. Oh and M surprised me with a stopover. Gosh, i love him to pieces.

I slept on dad’s side of the bed last night. I miss him. The way he loses his temper. The way he shakes his head in disappointment for the tiniest little thing (like finding the milk jug empty) – just everything. God I miss him. And I miss R even more. I never realized how lonely this life can be without a best friend around. But whining aside – 12 more days to go.

Work calls. Well, she’s actually like a banshee – screaming her lungs out.

Perspective

it seems to have shifted by 180 degrees.

after trimming the blubber off my emotional drama, i dawned upon the simple realization that - it will okay.

R left me a love note filled with comfort and i was grateful that she hadn't forgotten.

today promises to be one hectic day - actually scratch that - this week promises to be nutty.

in work, i will renew my solace.

god bless.

Eureka

i just discovered this:

[A girl crush] refers to that fervent infatuation that one heterosexual woman develops for another woman who may seem impossibly sophisticated, gifted, beautiful or accomplished. And while a girl crush is, by its informal definition, not sexual in nature, the feelings that it triggers - excitement, nervousness, a sense of novelty - are very much like those that accompany a new romance.

that's it.

In 1981 on July 21, i felt the first stirrings.
in time, it blossomed into a fully functioning girlcrush.
not a new phenomenon - i mean gosh, there's a muthaeffin definition for it.

that's the woe people: i have always had a huge crush on R. MASSIVE. we tell each other all the time - if nothing else and nobody else existed in our lives - we'd still be fine. idealistic? probably so. But heck, it's the only thing thats been consistent and stable in my existence. She happens to embody my roots.

she is my family. my bestest friend. my bestest half. all of the that and more.

i know, it sounds like i'm certifiably nuts - but quite frankly, im gonna live this high of having discovered that other people are just as fond of lunacy as i am.

gnite.

stuck in the middle of nothing.

Today has been horrific.

For the first time, in a long long long time, i cried inwardly. Only to realize how effin lonely and pathetic that truly is. It resembles my first months at university - still looks, smells and feels the same. the putrid odour of flying solo.

R&R dropped me off at McCowan this morning. Hours before my special friend and appa would board a plane and revisit our roots. We hugged for what felt like a miniscule eternity, on the street, admist stares - holding back tears.

I got on the RT and rode my route to work in complete shambles.

I know it's a 19 day trip.
I know they're gonna have tones of fun.
I know it will fly by.

but none of these things that i happen to know seem to be enough.
nothing fills this gaping void.

I take comfort knowing that my family is safe in our little haven that is fort 1278.
i take comfort in knowing that Appa is merely a phone call or a shout away.
I take comfort knowing that i will see and speak to R through the course of my day.
these are things that i know yet, i've also taken for granted.

gosh i miss em. and it shows.

its been less than 24 hours and its been brutally tough.
partially because i hadn't really prepared for this feeling of utter loss.
i hadn't fully realized how awful it is to feel this alone.
(yes i know, im not ALL alone - i've got friends and stuff - but whatevs)

overly dramatic? sure it is.
why shouldn't it be?
she's my best friend - sometimes, my only one - and she's continents away for 19 days.

i'll be fine.
i always am. i just have to shake this cloak of misery off.
time will fly - because well, thats how time operates

but today was misery
a memorable sort of misery
the type that grips you and keeps you suspended in time

and i unflinchingly let myself wallow in it.

being strong is something everyone does. so why not be completely weak? takes a stronger person to know exactly where their weakness rests...mine is so obviously my inner circle.

so the moral of the story is:
the grey cloudy part: gosh, i should be an adult about this. a grown woman crying because her sister and dad are on vacation? grrr - its enough to make me grind my teeth in sheer anger.

the silver lining: man, i love hard. i love fully and completely and without abandon.And while i don't love many, the few people i do bring me tremendous joy - and im such a sucker for a moment of happiness.

today has been miserable.
but tomorrow is definitely a new day.

i can barely verbalize, vocalize or rationalize anything on a page right now
im such a mess. torrid and dramatic. that's me.

tomorrow, common sense will ensue.

i promise.

but in the meantime, can i bum some of that valium please?