Blessed Fours

courtesy of sibil.

And Niki - who tagged me. When I wasn't looking - my apologies honey - next time I will practice some much needed mindfulness.

--::--
Four jobs I have had: (oy vey, where do i start)

1. Chuck E Cheese: Hostess which was fun and games until I was forced into Chuck's slimy suit on one ill fated day - i learnt this: kids can be mean spirited brats.

2. RA during my university days for a crotchety old music professor who while a musical genius couldn't stay on top of his research for shiiit.

3. Wedding Events Coordinator : for a local catering company. My first encounter with bridezilla's - probably also the reason I have issues concerning planning my own wedding.

4. Copywhore for an ad agency - looooved it, adored it, ate, drank, lived, shat, breathed it until i woke up and realized it was slowly but surely killing me :(


Four movies I could watch over and over:

1. Sound of Music (don't laugh)
2. Love Jones (when i believed i was the next big thing in spoken word)
3. Kannathil Mutham Ittal (an expose on the atrocities that befell tamil folk in SL)
4. 2-way tie- Garden State/Sideways

Four places I've lived :

1. Colombo, Sri Lanka
2. Malaysia
3. London, Englad
4. Toronto, Canada (since four is the limit on this thing)

Four TV shows I love to watch:

1. Sex and the City (over and over and over again)
2. Project Runway (im such a fashion-whore)
3. Will & Grace ( old school all the way)
4. 2 way tie: Everybody hates Chris/ Family Guy

Four places I've been on vacation (in loosely translated terms):

1. India - nothing beats the heat and the raw bustle of life.
2. London, England (minus the perpetual visiting of relatives)
3. Montreal, QC (still love it regardless of how domestic it seems)
4. NYC, New York

Four of my favorite foods:

1. Roti and butter chicken
2. Sushi/sashimi/endamme
3. Cadbury cream eggs (what? they were a food group at one time)
4. All things sea foody - cuttlefish/crab/salmon/shark/lobster...yum.

Four places I'd rather be right now (also, preferrably alone or with Rama):

1. Ooty, Coonoor - life was easy piecy there
2. NY - overlooking central park
3. London - getting lost in bustling crowds
4. Colombo - sunshine, waves, white sand, a world of culture wafting through

Four sites I visit daily:

1. Google
2. Rogers
3. Blog/Floglines
4. Frugal Bride (okay almost every other day)


Four peeps I am tagging:

1. Pri-pri (she fascinates me)
2. Bears (cuz why not!)
3. Taby (cuz I'd love to know more)
4. Chet (i still don't know too much about him - but im sure he won't touch this with a 10 ft pole)

-::-

that's all folks.

Succinct

and just plain pithy.

sorry folks - this entry is sans pretty words, thought-provoking concepts or paradigm shifting ideologies...heck, it doesn't even contain the regular jana-ridden rant. This entry is merely a glorified thank you.

--:::--

A huge fan of grossly textured words, I am thrilled to drop some much needed literal screaming on this page. Rarely does it see oodles of joy and today, I want to congratulate it for keeping me sane.

You see, having to be accountable to myself in writing was most definitely a motivator in finding a job. Yup, notice how I slipped that in. I am (insert drumroll here) gainfully employed. Well, I will be gainfully employed as of Wednesday.

Maybe those pesky little disappointments that helped me ring the new year in were just humps of bad fortune I had to surf through – and while it was hard as hell, I am definitely grateful for having had the opportunity to nurture my elephantine skin.

So blog – I propose to continue using, abusing and leaving my mark upon you as often and as much as possible. Perhaps you will be that much needed companion as I crawl through planning weddings and planning forevers. Or perhaps that personal trainer who’ll undoubtedly kick my butt by wielding the threat of coming embarrassments.

Either way, you’ll be around and present which is yet another thing, I’m thankful for.

---:::---

Amen to the written word.

Prepare yourself..

for honey pots and saccharine words. Enchanted forests and friends who don't stray too far. Today, i'm feeling a little like a yellow cuddly trooper and a lot less like the underdog.

word to the wise:stop reading and turn away right now if you find Pooh and his friends nauseating - because today I'm basking in 'The wisdom of the Pooh'.

--:::--

Dedicated to my dear good friend Rama because nothing could be truer than this sentiment:

"If you live to be 100, I hope to live to be 100 minus 1 day so i never have to live without you". - Pooh (no duh)

--:::--

Dedicated to the me that hides behind the bravado:

"Remember: You're braver than you believe. Stronger than you seem. And Smarter than you think". - Christopher Robin-Winnie the Pooh

--::--
I suppose all will not be right in the world of dedications if this one didn't go out to my most favorite stranger (mikes):

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
"Pooh," he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw, "I just wanted to be sure of you."”

--::--

And of course to my fam - this one is perrrfect because regardless of what Im doing, THIS is what i'm thinking:

“"I wonder what Piglet is doing," thought Pooh.
"I wish I were there to be doing it, too."
- Winnie the Pooh”

--::--

*sigh*

"Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.”
Pooh is right. For a bear with little brain he speaks big truths.

--::--
I too, as will all of you, get there some day :)

Crazy in love...

or just plain crazy?

somehow - today feels like the latter.

--:::---
A sweetly melodic voice, amidst the collective noise of the everyday, infiltrates my childhood memories. It haunts me. I was never one for fairytale romances or traditionalist affairs - and yet, before I waltzed into adulthood, I too was privy to the thoughts of lil’ girls as explained by big ones.

‘Sugar and spice and everything nice’ – that’s how it all began. Those were the magic words that flung open a Pandora’s box of estrogenized dreams.

Helllooo pink ribbons and frilly frocks.

It was something my grandma used to constantly say while chunky little me hid behind headboards, on balcony’s and voraciously devoured inappropriate reading material. I think I was 4 when i cracked open my first harlequin (my Lit professor of a grandmother was quite the fan of verbal naughtiness) and while I didn't quite grasp the literal translations...i got the gist.

There was something that these girls made of sugar and spice and everything nice looked forward to as they aged - gracefully or otherwise. An inexplicable feeling that involved another person – another person preferably of the opposite sex. Bedtime stories of white knights and happily ever afters ended as I trod into the world of adult romance. And she used to reassure me that one day - he would arrive – my version of a knight on a brazen horse- and I would be crazy in love.

Quite frankly, I thought her to be quite crazy.

Crazy in love? Or crazy because of love?
Gosh, what did that mean to a five year old?
What did that even mean to a 52 year old? A woman who had created her romantic fantasies in her cerebrum while living a poor imitation of them in her reality. I couldn't project at 5. I didn't realize that once upon a time ( a long long long time ago ) she too was much like me. Young, hungry and unaffected by this thing called love.

Ahh...to be but on that plump lap bouncing with joy to the cadence of sunsets in sri lanka. I would give an arm, a leg and possibly half a torso to relive those moments. Perfection. Ironic isn't it? I barely knew what perfection meant and I was living it. These days, these days are a far cry from those yesteryears - where life was simple, easy and pure as newborn pudgesicles.

--
why the reminiscing? today for the first time, i sat down all by my lonesome to embark on those first steps towards planning a multi-cultural, bi-religious, dual-ethnic wedding. A wedding that would have painted joy in autumn colours on my grandma's face.

I look like her you know. R looks like mom. And lil R looks like my dads mom. But only I - of all our cousins made of the same dirt - only I resemble her. Just me. One in a sea of 6, in an ocean of countless faces - i look in the mirror and i see her. Yet, I can't even remember what she'd want for my wedding. And this pains me to no end. Searching for something more profound, I'm trying to turn back the hands of my memories but sadly to no avail.

It feels incomplete. Today, I felt incomplete. I missed her. I missed her hand stroking my hair, urging me to knot the end of her dupatta, reminding me to make a wish as the sun set, reveling in my newest imaginary adventure and assuring me that one day - prince charming will arrive - even for rambunctious me.

Funny, guess the memo didn’t make it all the way to adulthood. Perhaps we should’ve made the same wish with an identical knot at every sun set. Because sure - Prince charming came. And left. Then his brother rolled by. Followed by cousins, distant relatives, friends, acquaintances and heck, even neighbors. And yet - all those experiments and not one of them were ‘for me’. I seem to have sampled everyone’s prince charming and still hadn’t stumbled on the one earmarked with a ‘j’.

Except for this one guy that I initially didn’t even fathom in that capacity.

I wish she had met Mikey. I wish she had gotten a chance to read him by first glance. To have looked him up and down and assessed his self worth and his intentions by a simple smile. I wish she could tell me what I should be looking out for, educating me as I embark on this process, and making sure that I don't discount any traditions - cultural or familial.

My folks are waaay too easy going. I know, I’m a nutcase for complaining. But honestly, they don't care about rusty ole traditions that creek in annoyance and disturb the peace. They're trying not to be intrusive. Trying to let me garnish this wedding with my own personality...and honestly, i hate it.

I wish they would storm in and tell me what needs to be done (fear. sloth. or both?)She would've. The one who introduced me to words, who taught me how to extend my own boundaries, to have opinions and voice them as such - she wouldn't have watched out for my contemporary visions or feelings. Straight or sugar coated : that was her motto – if it was the latter, you were shit out of luck because even her sugar came with a tinge of screw face inducing sour.

And today i needed that. I needed someone who had a vision in their minds eye - i needed her jasmine scented skin comfortably resting on mine.

--
this post probably makes no sense at all to the average person - my apologies. it was waiting to be purged - unedited, unrevised, uncrafted. While it shames the writer in me – this nervously twitching rhetoric calms my irrational fear of the unknown. A whole lot of question marks exist between these lines and breathe between the spaces of these words.

Periods don’t just end sentences they act as springboards for new ones. Sleep is a necessity and perhaps with it – tranquility will arrive. Neatly packaged and organized. I pray for it to take the place of illogically placed thoughts born of childhood logic - a puzzle that I’m certain to struggle with until it’s released into book form.

Such is the art of being…me.

--:::---

See, i told you. Not crazy in love my dearies - just plain ole "certifiably" crazy.

This year...

will be THE year of the jana - where resolutions are replaced by mini-activities that i plan to explore and hopefully accomplish in the next 356 days of this year.

You see, those who know me, know well that the mere word 'resolutions' triggers this rebel spirit into formulating secret ways of cheating, sabotaging or flat out breaking them. So this year, i refused to waste my energy on making said resolutions. They've been replaced by 'mini-activities to explore/accomplish' - a fancy to do list inspired by the infamous scorps1027.

--:::---

10 Mini-Activities for 0-6.

1. Write more.

2. Get fit - physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally.

3. Be more mindful. (thath-thavam: to know thyself)

4. Talk less, listen more (same affliction)

5. To treat myself as I do the ones I love.

6. Tie a saree by myself (sans 3,000 safety pins)

7. Get involved in a not for profit activity - something communal.

8. Embrace every opportunity to spend time with the ones I love through this wedding planning process.

9. Reconnect with my girlfriends and apologize to them profusely for my self-afflicted absence

10. Quit pretending to have a thick skin and instead to actually grow one.

----:::----

Bring it on 06 - cuz you ain't seen nothin' yet :)
(she bravely said before she was devoured by the storm...)

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.