QOTD

‘‘ For prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God.’’

Saint Teresa ( 1515 - 1582 )

Awakeness

I wasn't able to sleep last night. I don't really know why. I was just full of 'awakeness', if that's a something at all. I know I should use the word 'wakefulness', because that is actually a word, but anyways. We all know what I mean, because at some time or the other, we've all experienced it.

During these fits of wakefulness, I'm usually finding myself thinking all sorts of things. Not that I'm not thinking all sorts of things throughout the day, but at this time, when all you can do (other than sleep) is think, that's when you enter a realm where thoughts don't usually tread.

I absolutely love thinking. I can never get bored because of thinking. Last night, for example, I was thinking about thinking. And how it was almost a physical feeling, of being able to mentally create pathways and open up portals to places, worlds, and discoveries that we'd never have done if we just closed our minds to thinking.

Sounds a bit strange, I know, how can a mind stop thinking? But through the many years my thinking self has sniffed at scents searching for whatever it is that a thinking mind searches, I've encountered so many people who really don't let their mind think. It baffles my own mind, because it's just so hard to comprehend how anyone at all could just not think.

Anyway, to the point of what I was thinking last night. I was amazed at the mind's ability to record things and the ability to open up that preserved memory years later - revealing an entire memory of events, or places that we would not have looked at twice but for something somehow unlocking that memory years later. The amazement with which I recalled this memory had me mesmerized by how many more little memories we may have all locked up in our mind, and how there are an infinite number of doors and windows waiting for us to reopen and remember.

This memory lead me onto another memory of myself, years ago at the age of 8, trying to locate my thick book on Dinosaurs frantically, while the rest of the family waited at the front door before leaving to go to some function. I knew it couldn't be somewhere hard to find, because this book - as big as any good version of an encyclopedia - was my bible at that age, and consequently it was always at hand. But for some reason, just when I needed it, I could not find it. 

What I very distinctly remember doing is closing my eyes and retracing my steps regarding where that book could have been. I stood there at the doorway of my room, eyes closed as my inner self detached itself and rewinded through the steps I had taken to get where I was. I opened my eyes and lo and behold, the book was right there on my desk, underneath a pile of papers filled with math equations. I happily hugged it to myself and raced down the stairs.

There are two things I simultaneously thought when I recalled this memory. My mind branches out in so many paths just from a single thought, that it's hard to keep up with all of it, and wouldn't you know, half these thoughts don't reach the surface of my consciousness, and sink back into a shadow, so that some time later, something happens, a thought crosses my mind and suddenly it feels like deja vu.

One thing I thought was - if I were to share this memory with someone, one reaction from this individual would be  'How come you haven't told me this before?'. Now, this isn't what they literally would say, but this reaction comes once again from my cache of memory. That, once they actually had said this, and it made me consider how there was constantly things I'm recovering from this cache, things that I don't even recall knowing or remembering. So many memories, where every second is recorded, over days, months, years, that there is a lifetime of memories, or memories of memories to account or recount. So even with a person who knows you inside out, over years, one day you can come out with something you've never realized was part of you.

And one of the greatest ways of triggering these memory releases is by our interaction with others.Just in the same way I was amazed by the way I suddenly recalled a place from many years ago which I wouldn't have realized was the same place this person was speaking about had they not mentioned it.

This brings me to the second thing I thought, following the Dinosaur Book memory. A memory that made me recall a younger self with fondness, almost as if that version of me was actually another child I had just met. Even at a very young age, I was fascinated with knowledge. I wanted to know everything in the whole entire world. The year before, in Grade 2, I memorized everything I could about the planets, space, astronomy. I consumed all this amazing information with such an appetite that I couldn't help but want more. Family members who knew me didn't gift me dolls or toys, they gave me books. The Dinosaur Book, the Book on Science, The Encyclopedia of Biology, A Thousand Facts About The World....it isn't any wonder that by the end of the next year, my teacher told me that I most likely would be needing glasses.

My love for knowledge, for information, for reading, was a way for me to enter worlds I would never have believed existed. The more I knew about the world, the more I was able to learn about myself. The magic of getting lost in a novel, of living the experiences of characters, of considering the situations and what decisions or reactions I myself might have made, of relating, understanding more about who I was - it all translated into how I was able to be a better person for those around me.

A night's wakefulness isn't always a bad thing, when I awoke early the next morning, before the alarm-that-never-gets-to-ring rang, I felt absolutely and entirely rested. I felt at peace with myself and I really didn't know why. Sometimes a good think does that for you, you embrace old memories and thoughts almost with a caress you'd reserve for a collection of precious possessions or for a lover, and sometimes you feel an inner 'awakeness', a shot of life that goes from neuron to neuron at speeds so fast it's almost imperceptible.

Merry Christmas

A Voice

If there were a species that landed upon us and took our women, forcefully impregnated them only to snatch their children away to be chopped, minced, fried, barbecued or curried, we would be in a state of outcry.

If we were to encounter premises with the blood of our fathers, mothers, wives, husbands, brothers, sisters, children staining the floors, their empty, naked carcasses hanging upside down to be pickled and salted, to be showcased in storefronts for purchase, this would be declared an act of war.

It's okay for us, because we're at the top. But the moment this happens to us, it is an act of subjugation, terror, brutality, barbarism. We would wonder for what purpose this was happening to us, and what we could barter to save our lives, to save our own people, when the only reason is that we taste good.

This is how we perpetually rape, terrorize, enslave, abuse. Day in and day out. It's normal. Our height of selfishness dictates that we may, simply because we can. We empower the idea of killing, murder, and brutality on a daily basis for no greater purpose than filling a craving, a line so fine that it's imperceptible; how can we be so shocked when it comes in the headlines when it happens to our own kind? This is our supremacy, this is our compassion, this is our morality.

This is what no one wants to hear.

Deconstructing Happiness

This is how you do it. Choose a sad song. Preferably a song that brings tears to your eyes unbidden the moment it starts. In my case, it was Yaariyan from Cocktail. I didn't choose it so to speak, it just came on randomly while I was listening to music.

Then you get a baseball bat, and break loose. Break it against the windows, against the door, against the walls, against the mirrors. Line up your favourite possessions and break them to smithereens, one by one, or all together if that's what you want. Take everything that belongs to you and smash it all to pieces. Everything that ever brought a smile to your face, anything that made you happy, break it all apart.

Happiness is a futile emotion. It comes so fleetingly that you wonder if it were ever there. It's that sand castle you built when you were a child with innocent hopes and it all fell apart. Another kid running over it, a wave overcoming and washing it away, a parent telling you to stop making a mess and kicking it over. That's what happens to happiness. When you summon up every ounce of yourself to rebuild it, someone else comes to knock it over.

So pick up that bat, and break it all down. Break it all down before you break again.

Hitting Rock Bottom

Storyline 2

What if 'to be continued' was actually the end? The end of the story. What if there was no more? Like the way we go to sleep one night thinking there is a 'to be continued' subtitle to life, that our story continues to next day. What if we don't wake up?

If. If. IF. Everything somehow rotated around this phantom of hope. I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to be able to hope that somehow magically, if I closed my eyes, the pain, the aches, the broken pieces, everything would somehow float up and away, along with my soul, and that when the cold morning light finally broke, I wouldn't wake up. The catch was that I had given up on hope and somehow hope just stuck to me irritably; a pesky piece of Velcro that no matter how much I shook it, it would detach only to stick again only stronger, and the more I fought it, the more I clung onto the hope that hope would let me go.

It stuck to me almost noticeably. I was exhausted with fighting it. If I ventured out, I was self-consciously certain that everyone was stare at the big swollen hope that had made itself at home on me, like a parasite - how could they miss it? I couldn't cover it up. If I tried to sit on it, I found myself floating on this balloon of hope, if I tried to stick it under my sweater, I looked like I was pregnant. Pregnant with hope.

How was it possible to be accompanied with hope and be so firmly entrenched in the deepest pits of despair? The irony did not escape me even when I was holding myself close, recounting ways of escaping life itself. Hope was a reminder. It let everything in the crack in the window, and suddenly it was frigid inside, everything frozen and everything so immeasurably brittle that all it took was one breath, and everything was breaking, everything was falling, everything was shattered. Hope just kept stabbing at you and making your wounds open and reopen, and wouldn't let you heal. Wasn't hope supposed to be healing?

I wanted to heal, I didn't want to heal. I didn't want to want. I wanted to be so completely numb that I couldn't tell if I was numb or not. I wanted to be the brittle ice that was ready to break and never come together again. I was that already, but why was I able to feel every single shard of myself even as far it had fallen off from me?

I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to be. I didn't want to. Life was all a stage. We were all pretending anyway. No matter how much we felt things from our hearts, or felt that life was a journey that was joyous or full of hope, we were all pretending. From the time we were children, isn't this what we learnt? Playing cops and robbers, doctor-patient, indians and cowboys. We were all conditioned to pretend, to grow up and keep pretending. We were all just an army of moving mouths, an elaborate play with our scripts coming to mind from a playwright unseen. You either know your part or you don't. When you forget your lines - then what?

Level 3 Completed

Greeeeeeeeetings everyone. Tis a nice and bright sunny winter morning. Aaand, it's Friday! All reasons to smile.

Today's the birthday of one of my old best friends, and I'm not wishing them. I'd have a moment of melancholic silence for the lost friendship, but I'd already spent too much time in the past doing that. Now I'm glad to say, sort of in relief, that I can look back and think about that saying how some people come into your life for a reason, season or lifetime, and think that it's apt.

I was also having a 'discussion' yesterday evening with one of my close little friends who isn't quite so fond of the phenomenon of 'trust'. After we went our respective ways, I was thinking how things don't work out a certain time or phase in life because it's just not the time for it to work out. (Say what?)

I mean, I look at the events in my past and think of them as stepping stones to where I am now. I can follow the path I've walked to where I am, and see why I am here because of certain events that happened. If I hadn't had my heart broken in a young naive infatuation, then maybe I would never have started writing. If I hadn't started writing, then - long story short - I might never have been here.  You may not be reading this because this would not have been here to read. You may not have been reading this because, if things didn't happen they way they happened, you may not have known me.

Now, if that's a good thing or not, I leave to you.

But I'm glad, grateful, happy, content with where I am now. If I look at my past I'm overwhelmed with amazement and thankfulness that I'm here where I am in life. At the things I have in life. The people.

I mean I've gone through crap after crap after crap after crappy experience (please don't mind the language), and it's like coming through it all to the golden light.

Think of it like a Mario Brothers video game. Fighting through the obstacles, killing the enemies, doink di doing doing. Getting gold stars along the way, ding ding, ding ding. Being able to jump over the holes to the other side, dddddddoink. Coming through it all, even losing some lives and getting hurt a few times, but that's okay. You still come through and get the prize. That's if you want to. That's if you try.

Q

"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone."

-Gideon, Criminal Minds. (Quoting Harriet Stowe)

Perspective

Sometimes it takes a little displacement to find that you're right where you want to be. If you had gone through the last quiz I'd posted a few days ago, you'd have encountered the question that had me hesitating. "Are you happy?"

I wasn't really sure if I was. I might be, but then again I don't quite feel the "Happy-Me" that I always associated myself to being. I had things I was happy about, certainly. And there were things I was definitely thankful for in my life. But that's not the same thing as happy, is it?

Then I found myself looking at the date, yesterday, and realized it was the birthday of an old out of touch friend, and so I further found myself writing out a nice and simple birthday-wishing email. I ended it with "Hope you're having a great one, and even more importantly, that you're happy. "

That's when I did a bit of dissociation and put myself into a theoretical time where she'd ask me if I was. That's when I realized, from the many years down the road when she and I were much younger, and more closer, and would be thinking of a future, that this is what I would have wanted for myself. I was happy.

Happiness doesn't just knock you over, or make you want to click your heels in the air. Happiness is also a cousin of contentment, and can also be just as quiet. Despite all the smaller things crowding around in everyday life, and the little annoyances, arguments, or dissatisfaction, when I stepped out of my body and looked at myself, I realized I was happy. I am. I'm happy. Could have fooled you, right? I don't blame you, I forgot to realize I was as well.

Grime

This morning I was scrubbing up the sink (weekends are allocated for the house scrub-down). I was admiring the gleam reflecting back at me when I realized I'd left something yet to be cleaned and rinsed. The popcorn machine butter thingy. Now this piece belongs to an ancient popcorn making machine belonging to my father, and this little thingamabob was the part where you'd put the butter and while the popcorn was popping, the butter would melt and be ready to be poured over the fresh popcorn. This implement, having not been used in years (and I really mean years) was encrusted with some sort of grime (if you're guessing old leftover butter then you'd get first prize. Don't even begin to wonder why leftover butter would be allowed to sit for years - it boggles even my mind).

For about two weeks, I'd look at this thingy and just let it soak. Every time I got to the end of the dish-washing process, I'd look at it again, still encrusted, and let it soak longer.

Today, I decided having it sit there in the midst of my gloriously sparkling sink would be a heresy. I picked up my sponge, ready to battle the layers and layers of grime. To my surprise with one wipe of the sponge, it came away, leaving sparkling silver behind.

The ease with which this happened started a train of thoughts. This was exactly what life was like.

I mean, say you've got a problem; sometimes it's just better to let it sit for a bit and soak out the hardness and difficulty. That's easy to understand.

What's even more easy to understand - but what we always fail to remember - is that sometimes all it takes it the effort to get what you want, to get what you want. While I was looking down at the sponge in my right hand, and the thingamabob in my left, I was struck by a similarity to someone looking for diamonds. They're constantly finding rocks, which they give one glance and keep looking for the shining, hard, beautiful and priceless diamond in the midst of digging in the muck.

What one fails to understand is that all it would take is the effort to remove the mud around the rocks to find the diamond. And even more so - that life's problems are just like that. We constantly look at these rocks we're finding, and we think they're so useless and full of disappointments, and we're pulling ourselves down by the face-value of our problems. All it takes is one wipe - it is in the intention that faith is found. Faith is not in the moment you get what you want, it is in the moment when you don't know what you're getting, where you're going, but still take the step forward in order to achieve it.

We're casting ourselves around wondering when the diamond will show itself, when the grime will disappear. Obviously it's not going to show up ready-made for us. We have the power to wipe it away, all it takes is faith.

Quiztime!

Seeing as it's the weekend (hurrah for sleep-ins!) and I'll most likely not be posting, let's have a little break from my 'serious', 'depressing', and 'boring' posts. A quiz for you all! :)

1. What is on your bed right now?
2. When was the last time you threw up?
3. What's your favorite word or phrase?
4. Name 3 people who made you smile today?
5. What were you doing at 8 am this morning?
6. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
7. What is your favorite holiday?
8. Have you ever been to another country?
9. What is the last thing you said aloud?
10. What is the best ice cream flavor?
11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
12. What are you wearing right now?
13. What was the last thing you ate?
14. Have you bought any new clothing items this week?
15. When was the last time you ran?
16. What's the last sporting event you watched?
17. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
18. Who is the last person you sent a comment/message on myspace?
19. Ever go camping?
20. Do you have a tan?
21. Have you ever lost anything down a toilet?
22. What is your guilty pleasure?
23. Do you use smiley faces on the computer alot?
24. Do you drink your soda from a straw?
25. What did your last text message say?
26. Are you someone's best friend?
27. What are you doing tomorrow?
28. Where is your mom right now?
29. Look to your left, what do you see?
30. What color is your watch?
31. What do you think of when you think of Australia?
32. Ever ridden on a roller coaster?
33. What is your birthstone?
34. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive tthru?
35. Do you have any friends on myspace that you actually hate?
36. Do you have a dog?
37. Last person you talked to on the phone?
38. Any plans today?
39. Are you happy?
40. Where are you right now?
41. Biggest annoyance in your life right now?
42. Last song listened to?
43. Last movie you saw?
44. Are you allergic to anything?
45. Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time?
46. Are you jealous of anyone?
47. Are you married?
48. Is anyone jealous of you?
49. Do any of your friends have children?
50. Do you eat healthy?
51. What do you usually do during the day?
52. Do you hate anyone right now?
53. Do you use the word 'hello' daily?
54. How many kids do you want when you're older?
55. How did u get one of your scars?

♥

Dear Life

I have clean water. In fact I simply have water. And, I have food to eat. Sometimes I get hungry in between meals (three in a day!), and I even have snacks. I have heat to keep me warm, and a bed and pillow to rest my head on.  I have clothes, enough that I can change into a different outfit everyday for a few months before I'd start having to wear the first one again. I'm able to double my socks when it's an extra cold day, and tie a scarf around my neck with a hat to boot. I've got so many shoes that I can open my own shoe museum, and I don't even wear most of them.

I have the luxury to dream, and even more so to even be able to cry and worry when my hopes don't come to pass. I have the time to daydream, to idle away time staring at the clouds and count the stars. I have the luxury to admire the weather, and enjoy the cold harsh rain or snow from the comforts of a warm shelter. I have the luxury to bathe in running heated water for as long as I wanted, and the luxury beautify myself.

Most of the decisions in life are about which outfit to wear, which toothpaste to use, which tea to drink, which book to read. Whether to set the heat on high or medium, or whether I should decry my state of mind while having the luxury to do so on a computer. I have the decision to do so on my laptop or desktop.  I have the option of exercising, because not only do I have enough to eat, but I get time to devote to caring about my body.

I have the luxury of being attended to by medical professionals if I have as much as an allergy or cough. I have the luxury of having emotions, feelings, of expressing them without fear or punishment. I have the luxury of having what I think considered and appreciated. I have the luxury of being appreciated, liked, and loved.

I have the luxury of being alive, in luxury.

Broken

Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free.

-Rumi

Sensitivity

Having started introspection - well, not really so much 'start' as it's always on-going - with the focus on my temper, I've delved to another level altogether in realizing that anger isn't so much the problem as is the root of it, my sensitivity.

This definitely should not - and does not - come as a surprise. I've always said that the one thing I'd change about myself is my emotional sensitivity.

Being overly sensitive is not, in itself, a bad trait but it is likely to lead you to assume slights that you imagined, or are not intentional. You will be easily hurt by comments and actions that are 'normal', that most people do not find hurtful. Misinterpreting constructive, everyday interactions can limit your ability to lead a happier life. -WikiHow.

I had just taken a break after writing the above, to kick the useless radiators that have not been working since the temperature has dropped. I'd turned the valves on the ends of the radiators in order to bleed out the trapped air, so as to, hopefully, fill it up with hot water that would then render the radiator useful.

There is some vulnerability in me that is unable to close of my emotional valves in certain circumstances. I don't know how to cut down how much I care without totally cutting myself entirely. All I know is this is something I'm on my own with.

Storyline

I'd wanted to be alone. So, I lost myself in the crowds. I wanted to forget. Forget who I was, forget the deafening silence of cold nights, curled up,  voices and memories hammering on my head. Forget the pain and exhaustion. The hole inside of me.

I didn't want to go back to the usual hangouts. They were burnt out memories. Ruination.  I did a quick search, and in the silence of the quiet night that shrieked at me like nails on chalkboards, I readied myself to join the crowds. I'd stopped looking in mirrors. Avoiding the emptiness reflected at me. Avoiding the spectre that reminded me that I was still alive. Alive for what?

As I slipped into the crowded room, the noise came at me like a soothing shadow on a hot day. Here was a place where I couldn't hear myself think. Here was a place where I was a stranger, where no one knew me, and where I didn't have to care. If I didn't care, I didn't hurt. It was strange, I thought to myself, as I slid into a seat, how I needed a place where I couldn't even feel I existed. Stranger yet how I wanted to be alone in a place where I was surrounded with people.

Slowly, people took notice of me. They asked me to dance. I didn't want to. I wanted to remain unnoticed, unseen. Someone took a seat nearby and pulled me into a conversation, and a bubble of kindness overpowered my resistance. I didn't want this.

I ran out in a panic. What was I doing? What was the point in anything anymore? Against a cold brick wall, I cried as the rain came down on me. The lamposts flickered dimly and I wandered through the night, another night without sleep, until I reached my door and crashed on my bed as the sun began its ascent.

The next night, inexplicably I found myself back at the new place. Despair was too strong a toxic substance that if its presence was all I had for company, I would submit to its addiction. What was so bad in that? A bubble of resentment pulled at me and I felt like screaming. I looked around me, surrounded by mouths. Moving mouths, smiling mouths, smirking mouths, mouths imbibing in drinks, mouths with shiny gloss, mouths all moving for some purpose. What purpose could there be in an army of moving mouths that threatened to conquer sanity?

Sanity was a notion I considered as if it were an alien unknown but theoretical. Was I so bereft of everything that I couldn't locate my identification for sanity? I patted myself down and found that I no longer knew who I was. The thought brought me comfort, and for the first time in a long time, somehow, I smiled.

To my horror I found that someone was smiling back at me. He approached and sat himself down and proceeded to speak. I was riveted by my horror at having a moving mouth directed straight at me. I needed to throw up. I was being pulled by that humanistic tendency to socialize and I was ready to die.

Death was something I was not stranger to. I'd considered various methods of dying. When moving mouths were too loud, and the mute button wouldn't work, I found that death was a welcome channel. Jumping from the highway overpass, walking into the flooded winter rivers, sitting in the subzero rain, ingesting toxic substances.

The moving mouth was offering me some substance. I blinked at the kindness and shook my head. Unspeakably, I found my mouth moving and I had uttered two polite words. The fish grabbed the bait and ran with it, and I was trapped into the world of moving mouths, enslaved to the phenomenon of small talk. Like a fish who'd gone without water for too long, I gasped and found that words were like a welcome drink. A drink I partook of too much for my own good. Within the night's end, I was made not only an acquaintance but a friend.

I didn't want to get close to anyone again. Ever. I was riddled with bullet holes and racked with agony from the electric shocks that had run through my body again and again. Years of mental despair that had eroded too much.

Every night, I found myself pretending to be someone I was not. I was somehow the one who made everyone laugh, who talked energetically, and, worst of all, smiled incessantly. Soon, I was hit by the realization that this was not what I came here for. That despite the luxury accorded to me for the few hours I was here, everything was just the same, if not worse. I was living a lie. 


To be continued.

Anger

Good morning! It's such a beautiful day - it's almost like spring again. It almost disarms a person to forget what preparations they've made mentally, bracing for the winter cold. Likewise, as I'm coasting on a spell of good mood, I'm almost tempted to put aside my newly born resolution for another day. That's not happening though, have no fear.

Anger is a waste of time.
There was a time when I stated 'I don't believe in anger, it's a waste of time.'  Because more often than not, it isn't constructive. And selfish. When I get angry, I either turn against the person and become incredibly ice-cold, and emotionally I've locked away the parts of me that might get further injured if I leave them out vulnerable. My anger doesn't usually last longer than a few minutes, it's a bright flash and then just as quickly transforms into hurt.

Angers you, conquers you.
One of my favourite quotes for years and years - "He who angers you, conquers you." I've used this to counsel many people over these years, about not letting people who don't matter get under your skin. Once they've angered you, you've let them affect you, and they've got the upper hand. If they don't matter, then why should what they say or do really affect you?

My problem however, is that it's the people who I do care about - who are so close to me that they have the ability to spark the wire to my temper.


What are the situations I find that spark this temper?

1. Low tolerance for stupidity/nonsense. 
2. Impatience. 
3. Resentment.
4. Expectations - a person who should be able to be more understanding, not understanding.
5. Expectations - hoping a person would say or do something, and not.
6. Being crowded in my personal space. I need breathing room.
7. Being slighted - ignored, told off, treated like a doormat.
8. Being unappreciated.

And the list might go on, I'm still thinking so that's going to be another post for another day. *sigh*

Re-Solution

Happy December!

I normally write after I think through a lot of what I've been feeling or experiencing, and usually I write up something that's already sort of a solution of some kind, that leads to us all - myself mostly - feeling something akin to inspired.

It's almost the end of the year, and when January kicks in, we reach that clichéd time where we're all expected in an ambiguous sort of way to make New Year's Resolutions. I have always hated that, growing up,  having to write out a list of resolutions that was first and foremost a dreaded chore, and secondly that list having to meet the approval of said parent, and thirdly the entire thing weighed down by those damn expectations.

But, lately I've been telling myself that there are bits of me that I need to change. And this is what I'm writing about, I'm making my own Old Year's Resolution right now. I, IQ, am going to battle my inner demons and hopefully conquer that quietly raging fire that's inside me. My anger.

What anger? I know, most of you might never - and how God has blessed you - have come across my anger. But it's there, and boy is it ugly when it rears its fiery head. I can be cool as a cucumber on the surface, but there seems to be something - and yes it is when I get extremely close to people that it seems to awaken - that's like a volcano. There was a time when I rarely got angry, and when I did it was like Armageddon. I'd figured out a relationship - the frequency of my anger was inversely proportional to the magnitude of my anger.

And I know that some of you *stares at someone* think I just need a vacation from all the stressors of life. But that's just it. It's sort of like a drug addict or alcholic never really coming to terms with their addiction, because they've always avoided the stressors that stimulate the cycle of them reaching for their stash. No matter what, life is always going to be there, but the people I care about may not - not if I continue to lose my temper. I need to work through and live through the stress and be able to do so without the temper being unleashed.

I need to remember that this is only my starting resolution, I'm not meant to find any solution just as yet. But I am going to work on it. That's a promise.

Vulnerability

There is something to be said about loneliness. That, in itself, allows us to somehow be ourselves. Not that we're not us when we aren't alone. But the remoteness, somehow it allows us to hear ourselves, not just our thoughts, but even our own heartbeats. In that moment when we are alone, that is when the isolation changes into a mirror to reflect the scope of our mind's eye beyond the horizon and deep out into the stars. We step forward into that portal which opens out into so many doorways, a plethora of options that lead into futility, trauma, anguish, serenity, hope...a spectrum beyond our capacity to understand.

Love, was it just an emotion? Not only just an emotion, but one that opens into many. It could be no surprise then, once we open ourselves to the state that we sign away our sanity. The inability of the word, the state, the function, the purpose, to be defined, how then could we be able to trace the ways it controls us and exploits us, turns our emotions inside out. We become vulnerable. Was it then such a far stretch that it would crash over our heads with so many emotions? Anger, distress, hurt, ecstasy, contentment, hope.

And so it is we step back into the other side of the mirror; where did it all start and where does it end?

On Vulnerability

When you love someone, truly love them, you lay your heart open to them. You give them a part of yourself that you give to no one else, and you let them inside a part of you that only they can hurt-you literally hand them the razor with a map of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. And when they do strike, it’s crippling-like having your heart carved out.” ― Sherrilyn Kenyon

"We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection.
Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves.
Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed and rare.” -- Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

“When two people respect each other, the ability to be vulnerable and to reveal hurt feelings can create a powerful emotional connection that is the source of real intimacy and friendship.” ― David Burns

“And may be that was love. Being so vulnerable and allowing someone else in so far they could hurt you, but they also give you everything.” ― Christine Feehan, Water Bound


And hey - it's snowing :) ( I mean really snowing, outside, for real!)

POM

Calculus & Cranes

‘ It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer.’’

- Albert Einstein.

Today's apt Quote of the Day. Well to be honest, I'm sure any quote of the day would somehow feel apt, it's just that my mind is always churning away and it could snag in any and every stray topic that's out there and make it feel like that's exactly what I've been thinking. Which reminds me of the so-called accuracy of the daily horoscope in the newspaper, how often we'd read what's written for us and nod to ourselves, so true, so true.

But I digress. The QOTD feels apt enough because it is personally true. If I am presented with a problem I chew away at it like a rabid squirrel, until I've burrowed down to the solution. Well...considering that rabid squirrels are more or less not really right in their minds, never mind rabid anything, perhaps that analogy was a bit off. But you know what I mean.

Take for example, one of the reasons why this quote in particular had me smiling to myself. Yesterday I suddenly felt like making a paper crane. You know the thing; the origami birds. Don't ask my why I felt like making a paper crane, because I honestly could not tell you, nevertheless I felt like making a paper crane. 

So I got myself a scrap sheet of paper, and started. Making paper cranes is something I've been able to do almost asleep, having learnt it when I was in elementary school (when I was elected to teach the younger 'uns, mind you). But for some reason, I got stuck at a specific fold. I could not remember how to make a paper crane. 

Now, most people, normal people, we might say, would in all probability, just give it up as a job gone bad. I mean, yeah it's not a big deal, just a scrap of paper and a bunch of folding, then what? Ya toss da ol' bardie in da bin yeah. And that's that. No that's not that, I have to figure it out.

That's how I am. I worry away at the problem, and I aim to get to the solution. So I googled the darn instructions after messing about with the little scrap of paper, stubbornly refusing to give up. In the process I apparently was ignoring my best friend who was talking to me while I was wrestling with my paper. After I got the bird made (which I will have you know took just a few minutes), he'd laughed at my 'focus'. (Not laughing in a bad way, I know I know. Calm yourself.)

But yeah. That's the way I roll. I was remembering Calculus in high school and being able to work at the problems until I was literally able to solve them asleep. And the reason I say literally, is because I really did. The final exam was first thing in the morning, and I had not slept one wink, because if I do remember right, I had another exam later that day, so yeah, you know how that is. 

Anyways, that morning I went into the room (and let me tell you how accurate my memory is, if I were back in that building I could lead you right to the exact room the exam was in), and I sat at my desk. I somehow forgot to bring a pencil, and the pencil that was lent to me had a broken nub. In any case, I just wrote the exam in pen. Now, the important bit to remember is that I fell asleep during the exam. Might have been a problem except that as I told you, I was able to solve the problems in my sleep.  So that was fine then. I got myself a perfect paper (Lying no, but boasting, yes.)

It does not look like a scorpion.

Reminisce

I've been going through a lot of  my old blogs. Not those here, but on Lucid Iridescence, where I have posts going back as far as 2005.

 I'm not really sure why, today I read something that triggered a deep sadness, that although has been there for some time, the expression of what I read just sort of made me think. Sadness is somehow one of those great maps, it often allows us to delve within ourselves and think and ask questions we'd not consider when we are happy. But then again, sometimes it stems all ability to see, it fogs and clouds our senses so that we're as good as blind.

 I've always used writing to clear my mind; I started writing as a personal thing, - and I know I've said this before, nevertheless I reiterate -just being able to get down the why I am feeling what I am feeling, the sentiments, and then what I did was approach myself as I would my own best friend and cheer that other me up. That's how I started writing. Sometimes, you don't need to be a poet, or a writer. Just expressing what you  feel or think, whatever form it takes, is a start. That's what happened to me. Then, after I had it down I was able to detach from that emotion, because in essence it was like a piece of art that flowed from myself, as if I pulled out the emotion from my heart and it became a sculpture - and I circled it a few times and almost as if it were both a monument to what I felt and a gravestone, I was able to move on.

Not that easily, mind you. It took a lot from me to be able to open up and face what I didn't want to face. It might have taken even more to share it to the world - and not just strangers, but those I came face to face with in every day life.

I was looking at the archives on this blog here, and realized with a start that the number of posts I've written for November are quite few, compared to the other months. I was thinking that I've got a few days in the month left; I'll be able to write off several posts and therefore wouldn't be so short. Because I can't figure out what and why really I haven't been writing so much. There just seems to be this underlying sorrow that seems into everything and steals away warmth, smiles, words.

And this shouldn't be so. There should be something to cure this...maybe we all need to hold hands and skip around in a circle or do the macarena...or ..........Why are you all giving me those looks?

Believe

If you notice, I have a Quote widget on my blog. There are times when it's almost as if the widget is able to read my mood or thoughts; so often the daily quote hits the spot.

‘‘ Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact.’’
-William James (1842 - 1910)

And, today is one of these days.  The bright sunlight, effervescent in it's strength and ever so much more accentuated by the frigid cold accompanying it.

I had recently wished a friend for her birthday, and she said something along the lines of 'celebrating dying', and I made a remark about how she had such an optimistic way of looking at things. (Obviously accompanied by the requisite eye-rolling.) and she said that she's just very realistic, we are dying.

I agree. But there's something too pessimistic and final about that kind of thinking, to my thinking anyways. I prefer focussing on the fact that we're living, because there are so many ways of being able to actually live. Counting down the moments toward death does nothing other than give me the heeby-jeebies akin to frantically trying to answer the questions to a final exam when the invigilator has announced you've got just five minutes remaining and you're wondering how the hell can that be possible, didn't you just begin?

And I don't know about you, but I could do without the panic attacks.

But then she came out with a curve-ball of a perspective, that made me agree also, because although it wasn't new to my way of thinking, it was just something that gave me a mini-revelation.

"To me it helps to focus on dying cause then I remember that none of the silly-stuff that happens matter in the grand scheme of things."

And that's when I realized: we're both right. How can we both be right? Because that's just it - life is about balance. We have to keep remembering that we need to hold onto the little moments that make up life, those moments which take us forward, and allow us to cherish life, to be productive, that make it feel as if you're living. But then, at the same time, we need to allow ourselves to look forward at what and where we want to go, so that we can better weigh the things that are bothering us today and realize that they do not matter in the long run.

So what if someone else took your seat on the bus? So what if a friend said or did something that you don't like? In the long run what does it matter? Does it help you to dwell on the problem and sulk or rail against the unfairness of life? No. (Okay, maybe it helps to vent a bit, but that shouldn't last days or weeks, and it shouldn't mean that we're going to act like asses about it and become petty and bitter.)

I always think of faith as something you either do, or don't. There cannot be any grey. It's like jumping off a building - you either do, or you don't. You can't jump halfway. Faith is like that - even if you have the tiniest inkling of doubt, that's it; Sorry, you can't get what you want because you don't believe you will.

Sometimes, you get what you want and you realize that's not what you want anymore. And sometimes, you've gone on believing in what you want so much that one day you're left with only the confidence your belief has given you, but you've realized that you're doing just fine without what you started out wanting.

It's like telling yourself that Spring will be back in just a few months, and hey despite the warnings of the world coming to an end or global warming, we still believe it, because our internal calculator just does the statistics for us and supports our belief that Spring shall return. But in the meantime we've got this drastic cold winter, but that's okay because we have faith in Spring. So in that knowledge, we can allow ourselves to enjoy the first snowfall, to bundle up with our scarves and gloves, and enjoy the time we do have today.

I have always found that believing in that which you want is what makes the path towards what you want easier and smoother. You can't want something and believe that you'll never get it. That's like standing at the start of the race and not moving, and still wanting to reach the finish line first. And, if there is something I've learnt, most of the time, what we need to believe in isn't that far. What you need to believe in most is so close that you could poke it in the eye, and you'd go blind.

Black Friday

"You only grow up by living through the shit that life throws at you."
- Rachel's Holiday, Marian Keyes.

The context this was said totally made me sit up and take another read. It explained a lot, personally speaking. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm always a kid at heart. I even look way younger than I am.

"But whenever life threw problems at me, I just got out of it. So my emotions stayed stopped at twelve.”

Rachel's a drug addict and used this addiction to forget reality.  Not all of us are drug addicts, but I can say that we've all used our own way of getting out of life's problems. Some of us are workaholics, or maintain habits that reinforce our dependency on them - such as watching tv, or binging on food - simply because they allow us to avoid our problems, or avoid having to deal with them. In many cases, we pull away from the issue or pretend it isn't there. We avoid the people who would make us face it, and often times this leads to broken relations, and us becoming even more dependent on our habit, because it provides us a comfort of some kind. This revelation is one that makes me understand why I am still that much a child.

Then, there are those times when I feel so absolutely ancient. When life has thrown so much that you've become a pro at hitting home runs (or 6s, for the cricket-inclined), and you've lived and learnt so much.

A big lesson that I've learnt, in how life becomes so much easier, is to forget about "What about me?" And trust me, this is one of the hardest lessons to learn, because at the same time we need to ensure that we're not allowing ourselves to be become doormats or spare tires. But overall, there comes a point when you need to let go of the element "me", and rather than hold expectations about what you are getting, you should focus on what you can give. Not literally speaking of course, in case any of you are taking stock of your inventory.


Your life didn’t suddenly fall apart. You dropped it.”

Attachment

A few weeks ago, I'm not entirely sure when, I was standing at the curb waiting for the bus. The oncoming traffic was strangely busy for that time of the morning, and as I stood there, vehicle after vehicle came speeding by - mere inches away from me.

And I thought, or rather realized, that I hardly even thought twice about this, hadn't even blinked at the fact that all it took was a few inches and I could have been knocked to my death. This is something that branched out into two trains of thought, one of which was about fear.

I sometimes wonder if my "fear gene" has been disabled. In many situations when a person would feel fear, I hardly blink. One example of this was one night when I was walking home in the dark, the street lamps providing very little light, and suddenly racing at me at full speed was this huge, and I mean huge, big black wolfish dog with teeth bared. The weirdest thing was I just looked at him sort of bored and kept walking. And that just confused him into wagging his tail shamefaced. But it didn't even raise a single alert when, after I realized what I'd just did, I realized I should have felt some sort of fear.

One of the things I do tell myself often is to live as if I don't have that "fear gene". To live fearlessly. I get weak knees at high heights, and also with deep waters. For the first, I've persuaded myself to go on every roller coaster and amusement park ride in one night. The latter, I've jumped into the deep end without thinking and surprised everyone when I easily surfaced after swimming the entire length.

I'm not sure if I can rightly say that I've molded myself into this mindset, or if this is something that's just happened to me. I don't think of superficial things as so important that I get (overly) stressed, anxious or scared. My problem is that all my fear is focussed into one category - that's in my attachment to people.

For as long as I can remember, the one thing I've always been scared of is losing the people I love or care for. I know this isn't me, and is something that's common for many.I think this might be deeply entrenched into my psyche, because sometimes I get panic attacks and sink into a depression that I can't begin to explain.

On one hand I am fiercely independent, and enjoy solitude. On the other hand, when I form attachments they go deep. When I really care about someone, it's so very hard to extricate that attachment from a level of need. I might attribute this to having lost so many people who have been close to me since I was a small child. In one of my bitter moments I categorized the ways I have lost these people: Death, Deception, Distance and D...there is another D category which I cannot remember right now as I type but I will think about it and try to recall.

If I do have any insecurity, I think it would be in this, losing the people I love. I get hurt so easily just from a friend showing some coldness, or losing someone and not knowing why. It eats at me from inside out, and it often makes me wonder why I haven't been able to reform myself into that island that doesn't have attachment.

Prayer

Every morning, when I get out of the shower, I peek through my window blinds to check what the sky is like. Yesterday was one of those wonderful mornings when the sun was totally out. Walking out into that quiet morning was one of those moments of bliss that send ripples of pleasure from head to toe. While I was standing at the bus stop, and feeling the sun just enfold me in its warmth, I was amazed to feel how much heat I was really feeling despite it being a really frigidly cold morning. I almost sighed loudly with the pleasure and I found myself thinking messages of gratitude to the sun.

That's when I started considering how easy it becomes to understand how religion begins. So far back in history began sun-worship, prayers to Surya, or the Egyptian Ra, or the Native Indian's Sun spirit. The gratitude for a divinity for what it gives us - warmth, heat, light. Despite these elements being inanimate or abstract - scientifically speaking - we have developed a sense of personification in these elements.

One might question: can we give gratitude to something that does not perceive it? Well, similarly, we show angst at bad weather, or kick a stone and show anger at it for having tripped us up, or even more frequent - mutter curses at our computer....so why not?

Our ability to demonstrate a reaction, or an emotion is not only arbitrated by the reception of it. We react because we can. We feel because we can. We demonstrate pleasure and displeasure regardless if it is toward a person, a situation, or an inanimate object. Our ability to do so is what allows us to be.

So perhaps, our habit of demonstrating thanks to some ambiguous superpower isn't so much about our gratitude or prayers being heard, but actually about having been said.

This reminds me of a quote I stumbled over a long time ago:

And this reminds me of something Kiara (a-shared-thought.blogspot.com) wrote, something along the lines of...when we pray we aren't given the answer to the prayer right away but rather, we're given the opportunity to achieve what we asked for. And I think that this is what prayer itself does, in its own fashion - it guides us. Not just in the tentative idea that there is a superpower to hear us, but that we can hear ourselves. For us to understand what it is that we are feeling, what we want. Sometimes we might think we want something, and it isn't really defined. But once we put it into something resembling a request, that's when we can really consider the consequences, repercussions of what we want. It's sort of a blueprint for the house we want, or map towards where we want to go.  When we know where we want to go, that's when we can make better preparation towards getting there.

When we express gratitude, whether acknowledged or not, that demonstration allows us  to understand what it is that we do take pleasure in, what we like, and this is how we become more aware of who we are. It's sometimes the very smallest things which make us understand this, just like a step out in the morning, waiting for the bus.

DST

I used to detest Daylight's Saving Time changes. For the life of me, however, I cannot really remember why. Prior to November 4th, I remember telling people "Oh no, DST ends on Sunday. We're going to be in the DARK AGES again!"

But, come Sunday, that is so not the case. I have been in love with the mornings. Walking up into sunlight and walking out into the sunshine, even when it was really cold, I still love(d) the mornings as long as the sun was peeking out.

Now it's like Spring all over again. Spring in November, can you fathom that? It's absolutely click-your-heels-in-the-air magical. I know, I know, it isn't going to last. But then again, when does it ever last? Like I was saying, indirectly, in my last post, things are constantly changing. And now, because it had been so eeking cold bordering on "Oh no, winter is coming whimper whimper", I am so entirely prepared to love this bout of warm weather. Now that's called relativity.

As I write this, I look out the window again. And guess what? Isn't it typical that the sun has gone back in hiding, and the entire sky is a thick blanket of woolly grey again? This is the grey that sets into the bones and instills that ah no life is bleak mentality. But that cannot take away the little whispers of wind that come and tickle your earlobes, and caress your cheeks warmly; the memory lingers exuberantly like the traces of a loving kiss that sends a thrill through you every time you think of it.

It gives you a reason to smile. It certainly gives me that much more of a sparkle.

Sometimes

‘Sometimes’ is one of my favourite words.  I’ve noticed this from the thoughts I have, the words I write. Perhaps you’ve noticed it as well. I’m starting this out without knowing where I’m going to end up – what you’re seeing is the process of thought.

I am not sure why ‘sometimes’ is a favourite word.  Sometimes is not all the time, occasionally, from time to time. My use of the word expresses variability. We already know things happen sometimes, and not all the time. Is the use of the word redundant?

Some of the time – In living itself we are faced with what’s usually a duality of thought. Duality is just the very basis of course, it can break apart into many sectors, and as such, we explore and experience a multitude of thoughts and opinions, alternating, deviating, and changing into others. Similarly the situations we find ourselves in fluctuate.

I think the word itself represents one of the key aspects of life which renders life itself so magnificent – the way it differentiates. A constancy that would divest life itself of its beauty. Imagine the implications of the weather always, for example, 20 degrees Celsius with blue skies and partly cloudy. Or the constancy of the state of a person’s mind if they were only just always ‘okay’ – the very essence of variability translates into some of the most fundamental keys into human interaction.

Sometimes; this means not all the time. There are times when we may be more open to a certain idea than others, and there may be some instances that prove to be the exception to the rule.  

Sometimes we are happy, sometimes we are sad – this is something that we all know; yet the universality of this knowledge does not mean we should take it for granted, does it? When we can break the whole down to the very basics, sometimes this allows us to better accept the whole.

Sometimes we are having the very worst day, and another day after, the absence of those negative factors which contributed to that horrible day allows us to appreciate what would otherwise constitute a rather boring day. Relativity.

I have always, usually, used this relativity to come to terms with a certain experience; a comparison of an appreciation for happiness after experiencing sad. Sometimes, I find myself thinking to myself, in wonder and gratitude:  all the sorrows of yesterday have made today all the more worth it all.

Biking

Life. In the midst of all the waves, the storms, the conflux of emotions, we tend to look forward to that moment when it all settles and so that we can, in peace, live. And we forget, that this in all it's movement is life itself.

"Enjoy these moments" - an offhand comment that made me start thinking. Even when we are reminiscing, missing past moments, aching or longing for something else, or even down in the dumps, sometimes that's what makes it all so more special.

Life, bereft of its struggle couldn't be as fulfilling. We need that hill to climb so that we know we have a purpose. Sometimes we need a slap in order to appreciate a hug. Sometimes we need to fight in order to appreciate and understand affection. Sometimes we need to look ourselves in the mirror to understand what it is who we really are.

One squeezes a sponge to see what it contains. An orange can look enticing from the outside but once squeezed can we know how sweet or sour that juice really tastes. Likewise, do I like what comes out of me when under pressure?

Serenity. Give me the ability to take both good and bad in stride, for bad not overcome and tempt me onto its path when the wind blows in the wrong direction.

Patience. To be able to endure, and not fall to pieces when the wind wind blows stale.

Strength. To emerge and overcome, and not blow away when the wind blows too hard.

Sometimes we think we have it already, that we've already been able to scale the steepest mountain, and we've become all the more stronger for the experience. Then life gives you a mountain face that's entirely vertical, and somehow you're hanging from your fingertips, and that's when you learn, there's still more to go.

I have found that most of my personal growth has been through hardship. I rode off down the hill without a problem the very first time I sat on a bike. I didn't even worry about training wheels, or kneepads, nor helmet. I walked my first pink and white bike up the hill (which looked quite high at that young age) and just went for it. I didn't fall once, and I had kept riding until my cousin had to run after me before I disappeared on the horizon.

This is a lesson that stays on my mind even until now. I had learnt that when you need to do something, just do it and don't worry about what may or may not happen. But what this also taught me was that I wasn't prepared, for the times I rode into a bush, or into that parked car, or fell over and grazed my hands and knees. Those were the times when I learnt what I should not do, and how to prevent it from happening again.

Every time I thought the waves had crashed over me and I was doomed to drown, somehow I found myself able to float. I have learnt so much about myself just through the times I have suffered. The times a friend proved to be less of one, or the times a love wasn't what it seemed.

Taking off without a fear is one thing - sometimes you take for granted the things that you already have when it's going so well. I've learnt that sometimes the bike you're on isn't reliable. You learn to know what is good for you, and what isn't. Sometimes the path is strewed with obstacles, you need to learn how to maneuver past these. Sometimes, the weather is not right, and you learn to gauge when it is the right time, place and occasion. You may have your eyes just focussed on the horizon and not see that where you are isn't going to get you there. And you need to have a good sense of balance. If you don't keep your head up, and learn to steady yourself, you certainly won't get far.

Sometimes I love the way I sound. I think I sound so smart and sensible, then I bump into another bike rider, who on the trip down the path, or during a mishap when we crash against each other, makes me realize there are things about myself I don't really like and that there is a lot more I need to work on.

Sometimes even when you don't like the brambles and thorns that scratch and get at you while you're travelling that road, you understand sometimes, even when you're hurting or in pain, this itself is an experience that one day you can look back on for having gotten past, and understand that these are all the moments which make up life.

Out, Out, Brief Candle

Phew.

It's Friday. It almost seems as if the entire week was one breathe all held back...until now. Now I can breathe.

I'm not sure if it's just been the past week, or the past month, now all the days seem to have blurred together and was a chaotic mix of emotions, weather, illness, and stress.  In the back of my mind these days, when I step out and the wind blasts frigidly against my face, I damn the spectre of Winter and long to Summer how I miss her.

Well, it actually hasn't been that bad, I actually love stepping out in the mornings, at least while the sun is somewhat there. What I really dread is waking up in the dark, cold mornings without a hint of hope that life exists out there in the world. When coldness seeps through the outer boundaries of the bed and sneaks slyly under the blankets. When it curls its fingers around the windowsill and fits in between the panes of glass.

I'm a weakling when it comes to cold. Sometimes I have face the option of becoming absolutely delusional in order to cope and survive with the cold. I used to boast to my friends that I'm not cold, all I have to do is imagine a hot tropical breeze and that's it - I'm not cold.

And now I'm here with mixed blessings. It's the end of the work-week, and yet Sunday is daylight's saving. To be catapulted into the darkness of winter. Oh, woe, is me!

Trick or Treat

I don't know why, but Halloween has always been one of my favourite occasions of the year. There is something about the low level of expectations, morally speaking. It's always been the one day that a child can really  have fun. Birthdays and New Years have always been reminders of growing up, with lectures and expectations of resolutions. Christmas was the disappointment of less gifts and more talk. Every other occasion was tinged with an emotional awareness of that which was missing.

Halloween though, was fun. Regardless of actually going out and trick-or-treating, or dressing up, somehow the lack of any real cultural overtone made the day so much more enjoyable. I have so many memories of this day and not all of them great.

5th grade, I had this amazing pant and jacket suit, black with big red polka dots all over. I had a rainbow coloured wig, and all I had to do was paint my face white with the usual highlights, and there you go, I was a clown. I remember running to school that morning in my costume, just after the bell had rang, and getting in while the rest of the class was sitting, and just at the door, I noticed no one else was dressed up. 

I was mortified. I turned right around and ran back out the door, and racing into the fields behind my house, I ran into my dad who was coming in to help the kids during the day. He had a hard time getting through my muffled cries and persuaded me to go back in. 

I was 10 years old, and the only person to really have dressed up in the entire class. As a clown. There was one other guy who came as a Vampire, but our desks were all pushed together in groups of 6, and I was so mortified to be sitting there with my rainbow wig and clown outfit.

Maybe that`s one of the cornerstones to making me the nonconforming and rebel person I am. Because when I entered high-school, I ended up being a real class-clown. And when I was in university I was awarded the Most Likely To Not Give A Damn award. Yeah, me.

Oh, and the candy. I loved the candy, which kid didn`t? But as I grew older and became more philosophical, I started questioning the necessity of it. What a waste - spending so much money to buy junk food that will only rot children`s teeth, and there are so many children out there who are starving.

So there we go, I undid it all didn't I? There's the missing element of morality that gets tied into the idea of simple fun.  But that's okay.

One of the top reasons I love this occasion is because of the joy of friendship, the pleasure of doing something absolutely crazy such as dressing up differently than you usually would - a just go crazy day. And I've found that not too many people do.

I'm not exactly sure what my favourite Halloween memory is. Making my own little broom and donning a witch's hat when I was 6, being sailor moon, dressing up as a black cat (always my default costume), and winning the best halloween costume in highschool, after freaking all the younger kids out. Piles of candy and treats, watching the little tots parade their costumes. Laughing so much with my friends about absolutely nothing.

Happy halloween to you all! ^.^ Mrow.

Hallows Eve

Cold blustery nights, with the leaves sweeping the streets, wet, damp. Tendrils of hazy clouds floating along the muted glow of the watchful moon.

Voices wafting through the dark streets, sounds of childhood, a hush of excitement. Approaching footsteps, the echo of a knock. The screams of souls and loud sinister laughter. The flicker of candles and yawning orange grins. 

Memories run through the streets, and crash through ghosts with sneakers, unbeknownst. They run up front drives and twirl through bushes, they peer through hedges, blinking and winking at the ghouls that pass by.

And the door opens. Trick or Treat? The chorus came. Opened satchels, and eager smiles. Memories peer over  shoulders,  watching, reminiscing.

11.11

Yesterday, or the day before, well sometime over the weekend - and I can't really remember because, that's how under the weather I was - I remember looking at the clock, and just then it was 11.11. AM or PM, I again don't recall. Most likely it was at night, because during the day I'd have busied myself with numerous chores, multitasking to keep mind and body distracted from that vague dystopia I had found myself in.

But this time, I recall sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed, and turning just a bit to see that the clock had just clicked into position at 11.11. And I looked at it and realized, there was a time I eagerly used to close my eyes and make a wish.

Silly thing to do. I know it. There is that little girl in me, always, that seeks to remain in a fairy world, where Cinderella sang about dreams and wishes and waited for her prince charming. Silly. But regardless, when one was in a position to make a wish and lose nothing from the act, I took the opportunity and made the wish.

At the moment when I saw the green numbers aligning with perfect parallels, I suddenly lost a sense of realism and found myself falling into different parallels of time. Why had I stopped wishing at 11.11?

One might induce from operant conditioning that it was a case of extinction. But no, not that the wishes never came true. If one was a confidante of the heart one might learn that they came true, of a sort. Rather this would be positively reinforcing the act of making the wish, because they came true.

Was this a case of taking things for granted? I would hope not. Perhaps it was that when the clock was set at 11.11, I was preoccupied with an act that negated my ability to perceive that the clock was at 11.11.

Maybe, I 've begun to expect (and therefore wish for) too much.  My wishes have gone from simple requests   to wishes, stemming from deepest fears,  that someone would do this or someone would do that. And perhaps, by the wishes having stopped coming true in that light, that's the actual behavioural extinction.  By them never coming true, I've given up.

What happened to the wishes made at 11.11, on the many shooting stars, on the birthday candles that were so rare? Perhaps I've really grown up? Or do I only grow up when I stop thinking about silly wishes and hopes entirely?

Quit

Another Liebster

Out of the blue (well, nowadays, it's almost perpetually grey) some things just fall on your head when you didn't expect it. I guess that's how Newton felt. In his case, he was able to change the world. In my case, it just gave me another reason to smile. Thanks to Tanya Sehgal, of Coveted Dreams, who nominated my Whispers of Rain poetry blog, for the Liebster Award (there isn't a rule about not receiving the same award again, right?).

Just because I have been awarded this before shouldn't make the charm and appreciation any less, right? :)

Now, I've to answer the questions she's posed for me and state some random facts about myself.


Questions :

1. Which is your favorite movie? Unfortunately, (or fortunately?) I have no absolute favourite.At the moment, it is the hindi movie Cocktail.

2. Why do you blog? I absolutely love to write. Because it's an extension of myself, an ability to express myself in ways that I would not be able to do otherwise. I love capturing moments, and therefore memories, and having it sealed away for my own perusal and sharing with those who are closest to heart.

3. If one day, a fairy asks "Make a Wish !", What will be it ? A secret! ;)

4. What were you like as a child? I went through many phases of self-expression while growing, and they correlate somewhat to the circumstances I had experienced (very typical of child development, I know). I was always a dreamer, and a writer. I constantly had this hyperactive imagination, and was always making up stories and I was a bit of a boss, I was quiet but very talkative. I was a princess in my own made-up world, but I was the type who would be dressed up in pretty dresses and would still be found climbing trees and fences. I was a very happy child until certain incidents, and then I think I pulled into my shell for a very long time until I found myself again. I guess I was always fiercely independent, and that's still the case now, and yet I loved making people laugh, and smile, and I think that translated to a very quiet deep need to be nurtured and loved. That's also true to this day.

5. Love marriage or arrange, which one would you prefer? Love, always.

6. Your first priority if you become a millionaire? Making sure family needs were seen to.

7. Candle light dinner or Long Drive? Now, why can't I  have both? :P I think I would choose the dinner now, because it's just the season and mood...cold and blustery and just perfect for staying in and cuddling up.

8. Ice-cream or Black Forest Cake?  Ice cream! But, that also depends on the flavour. If it's chocolate or something too rich, then I might just take a slice of the cake.

9. Short stories or poetry ? Yikes. I think I would choose the former, there is always something I find extra appealing about narratives and relating to others stories, even if fiction. Poetry has its own beauty, yet sometimes might not be so fulfilling.

10. How many hours do you spend on facebook daily? Hardly any if at all. Facebook just... exists. It's like actually looking under the bed, you know that space exists, but it just gathers dust. :/  I do get to run into some great friends/sisters once in a blue moon, and when that happens it's like having a great slumber party with flashlights and heart to heart talks.

11. Cute or beautiful, what's your pick ? I'm both :P What can I say? *preens* LOL 

Random Facts about IQ:

1. I am wearing very dark blue nailpolish.

2. Jeans and a hoodie usually constitute my daily work outfit. 

3. I have just recently fallen in love with Lindor Coffee Truffles.

4. I don't know why, but despite me being a self-professed health freak, I have been indulging in junk food this week. 

5. I'm taking a brb right this very minute because I'm feeling the effects of the coffee I had this morning. Yeah I know you really didn't need to know that.

6. While I was drying my hands, I remembered a reason I loved the movie Cocktail, and it's almost a silly reason but it's just the type of things that I love - there was a scene with a bookshelf being shelved with books, and during one pan of the camera, I spotted one of my favourite authors books right there at the end.  This is the very same book I had recently loaned to a coworker.

7. I just yawned.

8. I love completing the daily crossword and sudoku on the train.

9. I shall be having pasta for lunch today, so we can all expect me to be sleepy mid-afternoon. *sigh*

10. I really did sigh out loud just now.

11. I'm thankful to Tanya but, really, I'm very glad this is the last fact I need to write. Phewwwwwww.

Cocktail

If you've been hanging around me long enough recently, you'll already know that I'm in love with Cocktail, the not-so-new-anymore hindi movie starring Saif, Deepika and Diana Penty.

My love for this movie started as most love stories ought to: love at first sight. The very second I laid my much-starved-for-good-hindi-movies eyes on the trailer, I was smitten. Now this was months and months ago, when the trailer first came out.  So why am I writing about it now?

Simply, I never really got the chance to watch it. I did watch some of it a month ago, but that was while doing other things. I've watched it again without subtitles (and I need subtitles). I've watched it with no sound, with subtitles (surprisingly, that works really well for me). Anyways, last week, one certain grandeur-deluded friend shares my fascination with this movie, and he challenged me to watch the movie within 48 hours or else. Obviously, I cannot let a challenge go like that (like duh!).

So I watched it twice since the challenge was set. I'm obsessed. The songs, the story, the friendship. The je ne sais quoi. I haven't felt so happily in love with a movie since, umm, maybe Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na. Well, there has been Rockstar, and... what was the movie that now eludes my memory? I don't know.

Apparently, I was so infatuated during the first trailer days, that when I started hearing people muttering about what a waste it was, two things went on in my head. One, I didn't want to face the stark possibility of disappointment, and so denied myself the possibility, by not watching it. On the other hand, I rejoice in falling for what others don't appreciate, and making it mine. So I wanted to see it. As things panned out, I didn't find the time.

Until now. There are probably 23984029348314832 things I love about this movie. There are just as much things I can pick out, that might have not been loveable, to think about. And I love that about movies. Movies that I can relate to right down to my bones.

If you look through the list of movies I've had deep passionate affairs with, you will see a pattern. Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Hum Tum, Kal Ho Na Ho, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, Ajab Prem Ki Gazab Kahani, Jab We Met, I Hate Love Stories, Break Ke Baad, Saawariya, Rockstar, (ok, maybe Band Baja Baraat and Ishaqzaade)...and now Cocktail. I'm not going to point it out to you. Maybe I'll go in-depth about what it is that brings these movies close to my heart in another post.

Focus.

This post is about Cocktail, and I'm so glad I watched it properly. This time around, despite somewhat seeing it before, I actually cried, I actually laughed out loud, I glared, I grinned like the crazy kid I am, and I rolled my eyes. If a movie (or book) can make me cry and laugh, that's it. Another thing, I usually blot out the fact of who the actors are, and just steep myself with the characters themselves. That's how I relate. And I like happy endings. (Not all the time - take a look at Rockstar, she died.) Life is always so uncertain and it's hard to see around corners when you're living the journey yourself, and so it's always nice to feel that there is hope around the corner. Even if it's for a few days, somehow it's being able to think and dream positively that makes today itself worth it, no?

Back to School 22

As he walked through the silent corridors, he heard footsteps. The lights above his head flickered. He froze, and listened carefully. The footsteps had stopped.

He rolled his eyes. Typical. When I needed to get here in a rush, half the world and their dogs were in my way. Now that I'm leaving, there isn't a single soul around.  He started walking again, cursing Murphy in his head, and then hearing the footsteps coming closer, he swung around suddenly, his hands poised ready above his hip.

'Oh. Hey.' The girl blinked up at Smoke.

'You?' Smoke glared at the girl from the exam room. 'Why are you following me?'

'Following? Oh. No. You forgot this,' She held out a piece of paper. Under the flickering light, he stared at it. It was the pamphlet from the Jesus Christ Club he'd been given earlier on the crowded campus lawn.

'Jesus Christ,' Smoke rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 'You kidding me? You followed me out to give me this?'

'Um well, just being helpful. You never know what people might be possessive with...especially,' She looked at him and then stopped whatever she was saying.

'Especially what?' He glared at her suspiciously.

'Well, taking in mind your answers to the exam?'

'Listen. You aren't the teacher, or professor, or, or, whatever. So, just....yeah, whatever.' Smoke turned to leave.

'Hey. Sorry if I insulted you. I don't really know that many people here, but there are a bunch of us going to....well, I thought I would...' She trailed behind him.

He turned around again, with an incredulous look.  'Hit on me? What, are you, crazy?'

'Hit on you?' She seemed confused. 'No! I would never. Oh my god. NO! I just thought, you seemed a bit like you could use some cheering up, and there are some friends of mine who wanted me to meet them later...'

'Listen kid. You should be in bed whenever later is. It's already 9 in the evening. What is later?'

'Well, later, as in now. I'm going over now.'

'Good for you.' He turned again and disappeared around the corner. What did she mean she would never, was she insulting me? He looked at his reflection in the window as he turned around the corner of the building silently. He felt better. I'm sexy and I know it. 


--------------------------


Nerdyy pulled open the creaking door. This was obviously not the same sleek door that their abductor had used. This door was rusty, definitely not used often. He peered through the dark doorway and found himself at the bottom of a long metal staircase that spiralled upward.

'Laylaaa?' He called out, and his voice echoed through that tall space. He looked around then went back out to the sand, grabbing Layla's bag, and returning. He eyed the rust in distaste then looked up, and up, at the spiralling steps. This gets crazier and crazier. How in the world could Layla have gone without telling me? How did she even disappear without me noticing? 

He sighed, and then started the climb.


----------------------------

'No, I'm serious, I need to go to the washroom. I have to pee.'

Rinka was silent for a few moments. 'You could have gone before, anyway now it's too late. Time to have drinks with me.'

'I don't drink.' She countered.

'You lied then. You said you had one.'

'I meant, I had...water.'

'You did not have water, you had a drink, I can tell.'

'How?' She glared at him suspicously.

'I am God. I know.' He beckoned at DM to bring them drinks.

'I see. And do you have any other talents?' She sat herself down and prepared to make polite conversation with this arrogant dude.

'I have many talents. Being God is not a talent.' He wondered what he was saying. Am I drunk?

'Don't you wonder what comes out of your mouth sometimes?' She smiled a steely smile.

'How..., what, no.' He blinked behind his sunglasses. 'Tell me, do you ever feel that people can read your mind?'

'Nop. Why? Is that one of your talents?' She looked down at the drink that was placed in front of her. She shrugged and drank it down.

'No, yes, of course. But I meant, in general, as a human being, wouldn't you wonder about people reading minds?'

'I'm not a human being though, you see.' She seemed to be mocking him.

'No, you don't look like one.' He played along.

'What gave me away? Don't tell me my green antennae are showing.'

'No. You were writing in your notebook and reading.  In a club. Who does that?'

Her smile disappeared. 'I do. If you have a problem go out in the bushes and deal with it!'

'I'm not saying it's bad. Do you ever get the feeling that we're all in some story some creature has written and we're just playing out some roles that they get to choose who we are and what we do?'

She just stared at him. 'Yeah... I think I need to use the washroom now.'


-----------------------


Nerdy huffed as he reached the very top. I am so not looking down. The staircase was flimsy at best. He was tired, and he really had to pee. There was a trapdoor of some sort above and he was ready to heave-ho at it, when he noticed something that looked like a doorbell.

Well, when life gives you doorbells, you, err, press the doorbell. He pressed the doorbell. The trapdoor started moving. Suddenly he was squinting into bright fluorescent light. He climbed through the space and found himself in a toilet stall.

Just what I needed.


-------------------------------------


Smoke entered the basement with another tray. It was empty. He put the tray down on the table already littered with used plates. They escaped.

He knew he should have used his own facilities. These warehouse basements were filled with ways out. That's orite. He pulled out his gun from his hip holster and checked the magazine. He saw the ripped out door, and approached, with the gun held ready. Kicking it open and sidling inside, he stared up at the shaky metal staircase. Hell no.

He backed out and ran out the other door. He took the elevator up and left the supply room and entered the mayhem.

-----------------------------------------

Rinka looked at his watch. That girl wasn't back. While she was gone, he was going through her notebook.  He was getting worried. Everything he was reading was strangely familiar. There were names mentioned that he knew, and he was worried how she knew them.

He got up. He had to check this out. He walked towards the ladies washroom and was about to go through again, when a bunch of girls walked by giggling and a few caught his eye. He straightened up and leaned against the wall casually as if he was just waiting. As they passed, the ladies washroom door opened and a girl walked out, looking a bit self conscious.

'Hey excuse me, is there anyone in there?' He asked.

'Umm, no. There's inside while I was in there. Or maybe someone's in the stalls, I don't know.' She smiled politely and then walked away.

'What a nice girl,' He thought. Then pushed the door open, and went inside. It was empty as she'd said. But that last stall was still locked.

He faced the mirrors again and checked himself out absent-mindedly while hitting the redial button again. Come on Taka, answer your damn phone.

The sound of ringing came suddenly from behind him. Aha. He turned around and rapped on the stall.

'I don't know what you hiding in there for. Come out now. Before I kick the door down.'

The toilet flushed twice and the door opened.

He stared in confusion as he came face to face with another man.

'What are you doing in here? This is a ladies washroom.' Rinka eyed the man.

'Well, if you don't mind me, I need to wash my hands twice. I didn't know that. I was, errr, relieving myself.'

'What do you mean you didn't know. You had to come through the door which is marked Ladies.'

'Yeah, but you're not a lady yourself are you?' Nerdyy dried his hands.

'Where did you come from then? What are you doing with Taka's phone? And why are you carrying a woman's purse?' Rinka was stupified.

'I came from the secret passage in there.' Nerdy pointed to the stall.

Rinka walked into it and glared down at the toilet bowl. 'You came from here?'

Nerdyy was fixing his hair. 'Yes, that's right.'


--------------------

Smoke ran around the corner towards the washrooms and bumped into someone.

'Oh, I'm sorr...' He trailed off as he stared down at the girl from the exam room. 'What the hell?'

'What are you doing here?' She stared at him in shock.

'Seriously? Why are you following me? Who sent you?'  He glared down at her.

'I didn't know you would be here!  I told you, I was meeting a couple of friends here...'

'You really expect me to believe that?'

'Well you will just have to, because that's the truth! Deal with it.' She glared at him, and stomped off. Why couldn't I just be home today? These British people are so strange.

She looked at her watch. She was just a few minutes late, but there was noway anyone could get mad at her today.

She pulled out her phone and tried calling her friends. There was no answer. Great. How do I find them in this crowd? She stood on a chair to see better.

Suddenly the lights went off. The crowd let out a chorus of exclamations and groans. She scrambled down, feeling her way in the dark, and suddenly lost her balance and fell to the ground.

'Ouch.' Suddenly her phone lit up. In the dim light, she saw two shapes in front of her underneath the table. She bit back a scream, then stared in shock.

'Ether? Jiya? What are you doing underneath this table?'

Ether opened his eyes and looked around in bewilderment.

'Oh! You're here!'

'Thanks, but what are you doing underneath this table?'

Ether gestured at Jiya sitting with her eyes closed. 'She wanted to meditate. So we came here to meditate. It's a bit weird, but then I personally find those people dancing and getting drunk weird myself.'

A few lights flared and suddenly there was the sound of music...

'I am a bad bad girl....I'm gonna rock your worldddd...'(listen to song here:http://iq-butterflyeffect.blogspot.ca/)

'Um where is that music coming from?' Ether looked around. Suddenly the table they were underneath was shaking. And there were whistles and cheers from the crowd. They crawled out from underneath the tables to the full vocals of the punjabi singer singing.

'Tera naam japdi phiran, soneya...Main tera naam japdi phiran'

They looked up over the table to the vision of some girl dancing away on the table. The crowds were starting to dance also. They looked at the girl dancing on the top of the table to the girl meditating underneath the table.

'This is going to be one crazy night.' she whispered to Ether.

'Oh, you have no idea.' Ether whispered back.

-----------------------------

'So explain to me again, how you have that phone? And what exactly you doing with my little sister?' Rinka lit up a cigarette, and offered the box to Nerdyy. Nerdyy shook his head, declining.

Suddenly the lights went out. Nerdyy looked around bewildered. 

'Errr, maybe we should check that out.' 

'No, you're not leaving until you tell me where my sister is.'

Nerdyy looked around. 'I don't know where she is. I followed her through that secret passage.'

'You followed my sister through the toilet?' Rinka asked.

'Not the toilet! Geez. Come on. It's not normal to be standing in the dark in the women's washroom.'

'I'm not normal.' Rinka exhaled. 'I told you, you're not leaving until you tell me where my sister is.'

A shadow spoke from the doorway. 'And you're not leaving until you tell me where IQ is.'

-----------------

'That's IQ!' Ether said in shock. 

'What? What are you talking about?' 

'That girl on the table is IQ!' 

'IQ! Whereeeeeeeeeee?'

IQ waved happily, if not a little tipsy from where she was dancing on the table. 

'You came with her?' 

'No, um. Well sort of.' Ether scratched his head. 'It's a long story.'

The music suddenly stopped, and in the silence, there was a gasp and from under the table Jiya crawled.

'Kiaraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY' Jiya hugged Kiara tightly.

-----------------

Nerdyy gulped. 

In the dark washroom, they could hear the faint sound of punjabi music thrumming and the drip of water from the sinks.

'I don't know where IQ and Layla are.' 

Smoke leaned against the doorframe, still a dark shadow. 'You still expect me to believe that?'

Rinka kept smoking silently.

'I err don't know what to expect any of you to believe. But I assure you that's the truth. I'm just as concerned as either of you about the whereabouts of my two good friends but as you can see, I'm just as in the dark as you are.'

Rinka chuckled at his little joke. 'Funny.'

Suddenly the sound of bullets ricocheted, sparks flying. Rinka hit the floor and Smoke flatted against the doorway. Nerdyy blinked and looked around.

'Romeyoooooooooo. I'll save you!' Layla's voice came from the last stall, and she burst out with her gun held aloft, and grabbed Nerdyy. 

'Oye. Taka. What you pointing your toy gun at me for?' Rinka got up from the floor.

'Shutup bro. You were bullyinggggg my Romeyo!'

'Romeo shomeo. Who cares who he is.'

'Whatever, bro!' Layla shot at the door, but Smoke was gone. 'Romeyo, run!' 

Nerdy turned and ran out of the washroom into the semi-lit crowded floor of the club.

-------------------

'Kiara?' IQ looked down from the table. She saw the trio and climbed down, a little off-balance. 

'Easy there, Miss IQ.' Kiara beamed at IQ.

'Oh boy, it's my lucky day.' IQ grinned and wrapped Kiara in a big hug. 'Happy birthday Kiaaa!'

Then fainted.