stream of consciousness

a new beginning

2007-01-25T18:02:00.000-05:00

clearly i take things way too seriously, but i've found this blog strangely oppressive. i always have things to write about, but i've found that this handle and my original goals have always prevented me from writing anything at all.

to rectify that situation, i've found a new home for my ramblings.

please feel free to stop by for a visit.

don't look

2006-10-13T09:55:00.000-05:00

no matter how many times i learn this lesson, i inevitably forget and shock myself again when i make the same blunder.

if you don't want to know, don't look.

you can apply this concept to a number of things: bank statements, weight scale readings, clothing sizes, fica scores, water filters, restaurant kitchens, etc.

it may seem silly, but sometimes the not knowing is better than the knowing. it makes for peace of mind and that's worth a little ignorance.

there are other things like bar exam results, grades, pregnancy tests, etc., that you obviously can't avoid. however, there's always a right time to take on such daunting tasks. so do yourself a favor and wait till you've got the fortitude to handle the results, good or bad.

and no, i'm not pregnant, you crazy people. i get the bar results in 21 days and i'm very very nervous. i'm not sure when i'll be ready to know the results, but i don't think 21 days is enough.

name that tune!

2006-03-30T01:43:00.002-05:00

i'm a flake and completely forgot to post the answers. sorry about that!

jumping on the bandwagon...

here are the rules in case you haven't played the game. below are the first lines to 20 different songs. name the artist and the title for "full" credit. keep it fair by not googling or looking up the lyrics. have fun!

it must be noted -- i'm too poor for an ipod. so this list is from my mp3's on my old desktop...which i have not used or downloaded music to in 3 years. so don't laugh at my cheesy music! also, some of the lyrics are harder than others so for those, i put 2 lines.

You have to swear/You've got love to love me. rules by shakira -- niki
I done ran into my baby and finally found my old blue jean. blue jean blues by zz top -- sibil
Not 'til you halo all over me. all neon like by bjork -- sibil
Learn to lose, it's easier that way/We've paid our dues, but we can't make life pay. Everything is new again by Bare naked ladies -- niki
if shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine. sick cycle carousel by lifehouse -- niki
And the embers never fade in my city by the lake. tonight, tonight by smashing pumpkins -- sibil (i love this song too!)
Now in my younger days I used to sport as shag/When I went to school I carried lunch in a bag -- PASSING ME BY by PHARCYDE
Past the road to your house that you never called home. Desperately wanting - Better than Ezra
When you’re weary, feeling small/When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all -- Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkel -- niki (which version??? only the best!)
I am a man cut from the know. breaking the girl by red hot chili peppers -- sibil
I know there's something in the wake of your smile. listen to your heart by roxette (i know, i know!) -- niki
Yo I'm in the eye of the storm, where the pressure's on. adrenaline by the roots -- sibil
I am the only one to blame for this. worlds apart by jars of clay -- niki
I looked out the window and seen his bald head. egg man by beastie boys -- sibil
I long for the warmth of days gone by. 4 seasons of loneliness by boyz ii men -- niki
The way you're bathed in light reminds me of that night/god laid me down into your rose garden of trust and I was swept away -- DOLPHINS CRY by LIVE
If you wait for me then I'll come for you/Although I've traveled far, I always hold a place for you in my heart. The Promise by Tracy Chapman -- niki
Nothing's so loud as hearing when we lie. all i want -- toad the wet sprocket -- sibil
Even if I am in love with you/ All this to say, what's it to you?/Observe the blood, the rose tattoo -- MARLENA ON THE WALL by SUZANNE VEGA
When you were here before/Couldn’t look you in the eye/You’re just like an angel -- CREEP by RADIOHEAD

so many dresses, so little time

2006-03-16T02:00:00.000-05:00

everyone who inquires about the status of my wedding planning expresses surprise when i answer their questions about my wedding dress. my wedding is not for another 14 months, but most people expected me to have purchased my gown the day after george put a ring on my finger. i'm not sure if that means i oozed desperation from my pores or that i give the impression of valuing fashion over, well, anything.

i suppose it's probably more of the latter, or least i'd like to think so. there was a time when it would have made sense that people expected me to be all about the dress. however that time passed about 30 pounds ago. in the 3 months i've been engaged, i've tried to avoid conversations about gowns and even thinking about them to myself.

this is not an entirely sensible plan b/c the whole ostrich-like response to unpleasant matters never works. i have until the end of april to finalize wedding details like the church, dj and photographer. then i'll take "off" for 3 months to focus on finals, graduation and the bar exam. i'll pick up with wedding planning in august but i'll also be preoccupied with the engagement party at that point. anyway most wedding planning guides recommend leaving the gown decision until no later than 8-10 months before the wedding. that would mean that i'd have to have the dress picked out and ordered by no later than september. that poses a problem for me b/c i don't plan to look at dresses until i make a trip to india in october.

the solution to this would be just to narrow my choices down now and then make an impulse decision next fall. easy right? not when you consider that ordering off a dim sum cart is an agonizing decision for me. i've tried to look at dresses online and see which styles catch my eye. then perhaps i'll be able to muster up some courage to hit a bridal salon and try on some styles and see which ones don't make me look like the stay puft marshmallow man.

this could be easier said than done if i had any idea of the image i'd like to present on my wedding day. do i want to be a dewey and soft bride? a regal one? an ethereal one? sexy? innocent? princess?

what type of material: lace? satin? taffeta? the type of work? bead embroidery? pearls? silver? gold?

neckline: strapless? sweetheart? spaghetti straps?

sillhouette: a-line? empire? ball-gown sillhouette?

train length: chapel? cathedral?

there are just too many choices and i'm incapable of decision.

i think that's perhaps why i have no interest in trying on wedding dresses (more than my fear of looking in the mirror). i understand that it's going to be hard for me to even decide on a style, let alone a specific dress and i'm already dreading the process. i wish my fairy godmother would just wave her wand and dress me. or more realistically, i wish someone would just tell me what look i should aspire to on my wedding day and then put me in that exact dress with a matching tiara and veil.

if that's too much to ask, is it also too much to ask that george and i have 10 different wedding ceremonies and receptions so i can wear my narrowed down selections without going crazy with the eeny meeny miney mo?

i thought so.

the story of the day my dreams came true

2006-01-27T23:09:00.000-05:00

i'd like to introduce you to the man in the picture to the left with me. *ahem* as of 12/17/05, george, my dear flog friends, is my fiance. yes, that's right folks, i'm ENGAGED!!!
i'd like to tell all of you how this came about, but in order to understand how i felt, i need to set the stage.

i knew george had sent my ring off to be designed, b/c we were very open about those details. it sounds strange, but george wanted to make sure that i was definite about which ring i wanted (as if anything else we had seen could compare!) so he was very persistent about making sure my mind was set. the setting was supposed to take 2 weeks to design, but as you'll see in later pictures, the work is rather intricate and had to be done by hand, so 2 weeks ended up becoming 8 weeks. so the wait was KILLING me. i knew once george had the ring, he wouldn't be able to squelch the anticipation, so i was dying to hear that the ring had been completed.
we received word a few weeks ago that it was "just 2 more weeks" as we had heard so many times before. during this time, we had arranged to go to miami for new years. george had always been clear about his intentions for proposing -- he was going to do something complicated and elaborate and it would HAVE to be a destination. he had these grand ideas of paris but i quickly dissuaded him of that by reminding him that if we went to paris, i'd be EXPECTING the proposal and therefore there'd be no surprise. i had mentioned in passing a while back that my dream proposal would be very low key and spiritual. i had also mentioned once that i thought national cathedral would be a great place for a spring proposal b/c the bishop gardens are simply breathtaking and, combined with the ringing church bells, you can't go wrong w/ the ambience, the romance or the awe the place inspires. anyway, he said if i could wait for a spring proposal (which there was no way my heart could take the delay any longer), he'd love to do that. i responded by reminding him that i had no choice in the timing of the proposal b/c i couldn't very well force him to utter the words i've been longing to hear.

fast forward to last week -- i knew george had the ring but he made no attempt to hide the fact that he just wanted the security of knowing that the ring search was over. he had planned on just insuring it and putting it away for safe keeping, much to my extreme dismay.
on tuesday, he mentions that he has to go to work early the next day to attend a meeting. the next day, i call him a few times but i don't get an answer. the sherlock holmes in me finds it quite interesting that he hasn't been near the phone at any time to pick up one of my numerous phone calls, nor has he been online at all. nevermind that i should have been studying for finals, there was detective work to be done!

i called my mom at work only to find out that she was off that day. cut to me rubbing my hands eagerly as i realized what an awful liar she is. if geoge had actually skipped work that day to go see my rents, my mom would be unable to hide it. so i call her only to hear that she's on her way to the dmv for a new driver's license. i call later to talk to my dad and endure a lecture on renewing my passport. ok so my parents are not part of whatever shady business george was so obviously up to.

the next day, i looked for an umbrella in george's trunk. i could have sworn i had left one there, but all i found was a shirt of mine wrapped around something. i thought my umbrella had gotten entangled in the shirt so i tried to unroll it. i then realize to my extreme confusion that it's not an umbrella, it's a pineapple!

AHAH, i think to myself! (don't worry if you don't get it. this is the part of the story that everyone is like what does that mean? is pineapple a code word??) whenever george comes to my house with me, she always sends me home with random produce so i just KNEW that the pineapple had to come from her. which meant that he HAD gone to see my family the previous day! which meant that he was going to propose soon!

that day, i return to my apartment and notice a soda cup that george had left on my tv stand. no big deal to most ppl, but i've got eagle eyes and lightning fast brain processing speed...ok i just have nothing better to do. i immediately realize that it's a burger king cup.

AHAH #2! I think to myself. there is no burger king by my apt or by george's work or anywhere in between. so if he HAD gone to work the previous day as he so claimed, where did he get this burger king cup from? (yes i realize that i need a hobby, but i was inundated with exam studying...i needed a mental diversion).

throughout wednesday and thursday, i had been regaling vanisha with my supposed theories. she was in agreement that something was up. i thought that he might propose on saturday night b/c we were going to our favorite restaurant, bistro asiatique (think back to the flog collage of food i had a few months ago).

by friday, i was so excited, i could barely stand it. this boded well for my last exam for which i should have been studying. george had a holiday party to attend and b/c i couldn't go, he took our friend achamma. i told achamma that george was taking me out to a special dinner on saturday. her response was, "ooh can sanjay and i come too??" the 4 of us double date a few times a month so normally this would have been an unsurprising request but because i was certain george was going to propose, her question completely threw me for a loop. i expected her to be in on the duplicity so why would she take a chance that i would say, "sure you guys should join us!"? anyway, i couldn't let her deter me from getting ready for saturday so instead of studying, i spent the evening waxing my arms, threading my eyebrows, putting hot oil in my hair, etc. i finally calmed down enough to review the material for my saturday exam a bit but i was so restless i doubt anything sunk in.

i finally gave myself a reprieve and settled into bed around 2 am. i knew george would be late but i accidentally locked the deadbolt to which he doesn't have a key. this caused me to wake up to an insisent ringing doorbell at 5 am while he was drunkenly irate that i'd lock him out. george, once riled up, is hard to calm down again. he started going on about how we weren't going to get married b/c he had asked my parents (aha! i was right!) and that my dad said no! JIGGA WHA??? that scenario never crossed my mind and so i was stunned. george eventually went to bed while i stayed up the rest of the night/morning perturbed by how dumb i was -- i had let myself get my hopes up only to be disappointed that my stupid father had derailed the george and julie love train.

completely devastated but trying hard not to show it, i dressed for school and made last minute preparations for my exam. george and i agreed that we were still on for dinner but then he says instead of asian fusion, he wanted something hearty like indian food from heritage india, one of the best injun places in dc. this was last nail in the proposal coffin for me. i knew he'd never propose at a random indian restaurant that held no meaning for us other than yummy food so i realized that i had been hasty in jumping to conclusions. george walked me outside and i trudged to the metro. once i turned the corner and left his line of vision, i immediately called vanisha to break the news to her. she was about as disappointed as i was. we agreed that i possibly connected dots whose only thing in common was being tantalizingly random to capture my attention. i resolved to go into my exam with a clear head and not be distracted b/c even if george wasn't going to propose that evening, i firmialy believed he would EVENTUALLY ask me to marry him.

my exam started late and ended later than i expected. by the time i reached home, it was 6 pm, instead of the 5 pm on which we had based our evening's plans. george was kind but abrupt as he tried to rush me through my beauty preparations. if i hadn't been convinced that 12/17/05 was NOT the proposal day, that was it -- he would NEVER let me walk out the door looking like a hobo as i did that evening if he were truly to propose. we were late for our reservations at bistro asiatique so he called the restaurant to warn them. on the way, he says that he's finally decided on food -- he definitely wants indian food, not the asian fusion, which apparently was convenient b/c he made 8 pm reservations there under the assumption that i'd be late.
we headed down wisconsin ave towards heritage india with the view of the national cathedral as our north star. as we drew closer to the beautiful church, we discussed how lovely it was and i mentioned how i had never been on its grounds. this led george to do a quick u turn and park in front of the cathedral. there was construction of a parking garage that married our view from the street so we had to walk a short distance to circumvent the obstruction. as we walked, we oohed and aahed over the beauty. i felt a sense of tranquility come over me as i stood in awe of this beautiful edifice which has been a haven to countless numbers of people. i mentioned to george that i would like to see the bishop gardens one day when the weather was better. apparently george missed the" when the weather is better" portion of my remark b/c he yanked my arm down some dark and rocky path as towards the bishop's gardens. i'm sure it would have been a beautiful sight in may or june with the flowers blooming and and balmy 60-80 degree weather to greet us. however, at 9 pm in december, there are no tourists, so the lights are not on and the 20 some degree weather seemed to be a harbinger of bad things to come. i felt a little wary and wanted to turn back but george was hit with such enthusiasm that i felt bad.

we strolled hand in hand through the gardens as we appreciated the beauty. even in the winter, the landscaping deserves a moment of adulation, especially as it is bathed in the residual light shining from the cathedral. we stopped near a fountain (no water running of course) where george drew me in his arms and started slow dancing with me. he talked about how we met and how he always knew i was the one for him. he embarrassed me with appreciation of my quirks and qualities. if i wasn't dumbfounded enough, he told me that he had a poem he wanted to read to me that encapsulated his thoughts. while he read the lovely words to me, i tried to understand what terrible news he had for me that he thought he needed to buffer by some kind consideration first. i imagined news that i had a fatal disorder that would claim my life the next day or that my law school had called -- i was too dumb to continue as a a third year and they were going to expel me one semester before i graduated.

as i entertained such melodrama, george got down on his knee. i still didn't understand what was happening, but i knew that something momentous was about to occur and i couldn't stop the pounding in my heart. he uttered the words i'd been longing to hear. my graceful response? "where's the ring???" i'm not normally so materialistic but after over 2 years of hearing george telling me that we weren't getting married, i couldn't believe he wasn't teasing me. i fully expected him to stand up and yell "PSYCHE!" after i said yes. he must have understood my trepidation b/c he pulled out the ring and nearly blinded me with its beauty. it finally sunk in -- the man i've loved and waited for since the day i was born had asked ME to marry him. i didn't know it then but apparently the tears had been flowing freely from my eyes the moment he gathered me in his arms. maybe subconsciously i knew what was about to happen.

after squealing and yelling and hugging and kissing, we walked hand in hand back to the car. i called my rents to gush and squeal some more. we called his family and informed them of the good news. THEN we went back to the asian fusion restaurant where george had arranged for the chef and staff to treat us extra well. we dined on wonderful food, some appetizers and desserts designed for us, accepted congratulations from all the staff and got drunk on champagne. we called a few friends to share the story as well as coordinate the next part of george's plan. i had told everyone on my birthday a month before that i wanted to get drunk with everyone the evening following my last exam. i thought a few of us were going to meet for this purpose but george had invited all of our friends to a lounge to celebrate the engagement.
it was the perfect proposal. if george had stuck with the original plan of proposing at a destination like on our new year's trip to miami, i would have been suspicous the entire time. by doing something low key, even despite inadvertently leaving clues, he took me by complete surprise. it was understated as i wanted, romantic in its naturally beautiful setting and spiritual in its awe-inspiring venue. the night was capped by wonderful food, thoughtful staff and the greatest friends a girl could ask for to celebrate the best day of her life.

~~~
in the weeks since the proposal, i've started to realize how inordinately blessed i am. i have a wonderful family who will do anything to make me happy, including giving me the wedding of my dreams. i am about to join a family that treats me like daughter/sister they've always wanted. i'm planning a future with the man who will always take care of me, support me, love me and tell me when i'm being an idiot without fear of reprisal. i'm so blessed that it makes me tear up everytime i think about it.

i'm also so fortunate for all of you. i know i promised this story a month ago. i swear i wrote nearly all of it but i didn't write the ending (as if it were a surprise). i finally finished it a few weeks ago but it didn't capture the magic of the moment or the emotional upheaval i'd endured that week. i finally realized that nothing i could write would adequately explain the events of that week or how my heart twisted and turned. it was time just to tell they story the best i could -- as if you were there for every moment. i'm fortunate for all of you b/c you've been so thrilled with me and for me. you've congratulated george (or expressed your condolences), jumped for joy and squealed with excitement with me. you've bitten your nails with me as i worried about our parnets' official meeting and sighed relief as i told you the meeting went better than any of us could have hoped. you expressed your inordinate pleasure that we found the wedding hall of our fantasies...but most of all, many of you who didn't know the whole story waited patiently for me to put it to words to read. so for you, my dear friends, i thank God.

(i know this is pure drivel but i didn't have the energy or the know-how to make this read smoothly. sometimes you're just too close to the material to care how it comes off. dammit it's my story! =)

happy chinese new year!

2006-01-27T21:51:00.000-05:00

ok so i'm 27 days late with my new year's resolution but considering that the chinese are celebrating the year of the dog tomorrow, i figure it's never too late to make some resolutions for the year. as such, here are some goals i'd like to accomplish for 2006:

be more regular in my blogging/flogging. i say that i'd like to be a writer but i do nothing about it. i have a journal in which i never write and i mentally compose snippets that i'd like to put on paper but i never do it. i'm resolving to taking more opportunities to make myself write. even if it's crap, i'm going to try to affix my thoughts to paper/laptop so that at least i'm exercising my mental muscles.
be a better friend. this includes getting to all the phone calls/emails i'm so terrible at returning. there's really no reason for be me so lax in my correspondence. i'm just a flake and if i don't call or respond immediately, i completely forget to do so.
be a better daughter. i've heard such horror stories from already and soon-to-be married friends about how much turmoil they endured in midst of wedding planning. i don't know if it's because i'm a fatalist, but i've been pleasantly surprised by how smoothly wedding-planning has gone so far. my parents have been absolutely awesome to the point that i hardly recognize them. i feel so grateful that i want to be a better daughter and sister so that i can try to deserve an iota of the grace and love they've bestowed on me.
be a better girlfriend/fiance. just b/c i've snared george doesn't mean that i can start taking him for granted.
improve my health. i've lost 13 pounds but i've got 25 more to go if i want to be healthy. actually, scratch that, i can be healthy if i lose another 15 pounds, but my goal is to lose a total of 25 more. i think i'd be at my optimum physical and mental state at that point. i want to feel fit and limber and the best i've ever felt. that way when i'm 40, i can look back and say, oh to be in my mid 20's again. ;) (it doesn't hurt that with a set wedding date in mind, i have a definite date by which to reach my goal of health and fitness).
edumacate myself. i used to be quite the reader of all things educational. lately all i've been reading is either rubbish, sensational, the latest thriller/tearjerker or something equally ephemeral. i *need* something mentally challenging to sustain me.

that's it for now. i'm sure this list will expand thru the months for but now, i think these are some reasonable goals.

not that i'm about to throw myself under a train

2006-01-27T21:17:00.000-05:00

ever since i started my love affair with russian literature at the tender age of 14, i've always been obsessed with anna karenina. i've seen the film versions and thought they didn't do enough justice to the novel. anyone who mentions being familiar with the novel is an immediate friend of mine. (nice to know i'm not very discriminating, huh?) similarly, any other book or movie that refers to anna karenina gets an a-ok from me. it's like a blind covers my eyes and plugs my ears -- i cease to notice the mediocrity of what i'm reading/viewing. i am just so in love with the creator of the work for speaking to me thru his or her reference of the novel. this love for anything that refers to vronsky, anna, kitty and others has met its match.

i saw a movie back in 1998 called music from another room. i actually liked it at the time. i wasn't completely enthralled but i thought i appreciated that my favorite novel was mentioned. it was on showtime yesterday and i thought i'd take the opportunity to watch it again and see why random bloggers hate gretchen mol's acting so much. well after wasting over 1 1/2 hours of my time, i realize now what i failed to appreciate then: the storyline is terrible and gretchen mol really is a terrible actress. i'm sure she was a great thespian in high school when acting in our town was a stretch, but her skills must have peaked at that age because i've seen better acting from george when i ask him if my butt looks big in these pants.

conclusion -- citing anna karenina may be a way to my heart but it sill surely not make for a great work of art.

shawn tagged me so here we go!

2006-01-27T21:02:00.000-05:00

at this rate, the only blog updates i'll do to either my xanga or this blog will be due to tags. you few readers -- don't get any funny ideas. ;)

shawn tagged me so here we go! The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits" and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says "You have been tagged" (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

when i'm reliving conversations i've had with people, i actually make the same expressions and move my mouth as if i'm speaking with those people. this leads to many confused glances by strangers when i'm in public.
refusing to talk (even on the phone)/drink/eat/swallow until i've brushed my teeth in the morning.
picking at my perpetually peeling lips
if i'm alone, i can go for days without eating b/c i forget. if i'm with people, i do nothing but think of food.
looking at my reflection of my body (below my neck) in windows as i'm walking to catch and suck in, tuck in or otherwise hide unsightly bulges.

Tag, I'm it.

2006-01-27T20:45:00.000-05:00

Four jobs I have had:

Handbag sales associate at Macy's in high school and freshman year of college
hostess at a now-defunct asian fusion restaurant in nyc
model for cache
public relations intern for a brokerage firm on wall street

Four movies I could watch over and over:-

goonies (oodles and i have this in common)
shawshank redemption (love me some tim robbins)
BIG (gotta love tom hanks)
ice age

Four places I've lived:

jersey city, nj -- till wee age of 2
clifton, nj -- up until the tender age of 17
new york city -- from 17-23
washington, dc/silver spring, md -- 23-present

Four TV shows I love to watch: (i'll limit this to current shows)

Lost (though i hate storylines centering on charlie and jack)
my name is earl
gilmore girls (it's lost some of its initial appeal but i still love the show maybe only b/c everyone says i talk like lorelai)
project runway (the one reality show where people are competing for a job by demonstrating actual talent

Four places I've been on vacation: (in order of most recent to least)

miami
new orleans, la (i'm so grateful to have visited one of my favorite cities while it was still the same big easy we all remember)
acapulco, mexico
orlando, fl

Four of my favorite foods:

anything with cheese
anything with mushrooms
anything with shrimp
anything spicy

Four places I'd rather be right now [this one stumped me b/c i've never been to wish i was elsewhere. i'm happy with my location at all times (generally speaking). i'll assume this means places i'd like to be at some point in life]:

argentina
czech republic
morocco
malaysia

Four sites I visit daily:

gmail
bloglines
westlaw/lexis nexis
dlisted

Four books I can reread perpetually: (i added this since i'm not going to tag bloggers):

anna karenina (any book or movie that refers to my all-time favorite book is a-ok with me! even if it's music from another room)
a separate peace (gene had it right, saracasm is a defense for the weak)
oh the places you'll go!
a fine balance (anna karenina is my favorite novel to read but this is my other favorite novel b/c if i had an iota of rohinton mistry's talent, i'd be writing in this style).

Four bloggers I am tagging:

it wouldn't be right for me to tag anyone for 2 reasons: 1) my infrequent updates give me no right to inflict this on someone else; 2) everyone else has probably already done it by now

se7en

2005-10-17T23:19:00.000-05:00

if A N N A, sibil, nina, and sue can do it, then so can i

7 things I plan to do before I die:
1) fulfill my purpose in life (once i figure out what that is)
2) make my parents proud
3) be a damn good attorney :)
4) share the blessings
5) make my phyique an exact representation of my ideal body image
6) write for other people's enjoyment
7) stop procrastinating/stop living under the shadow of my unfulfilled potential

7 things I can do:
1) bring out the best in people and show them how beautiful they are (ok fine, hair and makeup) 2) make a friend anywhere
3) listen
4) handstands and headstands
5) make people smile and laugh
6) lose my train of thought within seconds of speaking
7) be a kid at heart (or a fool, depending how you look at it)

7 things I cannot do:
1) shut up
2) finish projects or plates of food
3) concentrate
4) fit into size 4 pants anymore :(
5) stop grinding my teeth
6) calm down
7) draw/sculpt/paint/any artistic expression

7 things that attract me to another person (let's pretend i'm not describing geoge, mm kay?):
1) generous spirits
2) people who can make friends anywhere
3) appreciating the finer things in life -- i.e. friends and family
4) warm smiles (dimples are a big plus)
5) strong, warm hands
6) problem solvers
7) strong-willed independence

7 things that I say most often:
1) i'm like/i was like whatever
2) um yeah, i have no idea what you're talking about
3) ohhhhh
4) GAH
5) shut up you big stupid
6) what was i talking about? yeah...i have no idea...oh yeah something about ___
7) i KNOW!!!

7 People I want to do this:
1) George (who will never do it)
2) any of the remaining flog girls (seems like im the last in line as always)
3) the good folks at getting to maybe (shawn, i'm looking at you!)
4) nimra
5) monica
6) devina
7) oodles/brimful/chai if you're reading this, join the party =)

deja vu

2005-04-20T08:56:00.000-05:00

14 years later, the memory is still vivid. i can still hear the wail of sirens, screaming firemen, chainsaws and the neighbors' gasps of horror. the acrid smoke, the odor of the fire extinguishers, and the foul odor of sweat mixing with the air still burns my nostrils and makes my eyes water.

i was 11 years old and on my way home from a typical day in 6th grade. i had just started taking the bus, a fact of which i was very proud because to me it signified liberation and independence. my parents only agreed to let me take the bus if i agreed to let videsha, my down-the-street-neighbor and friend, who was 2 years older, walk me to the corner before we went our separate ways. it was a cool, crisp november day and the smell of the pine cones filled my nose. i was kicking the leaves down the street as we walked. when we reached the corner where we'd split, i finally registered the commotion in the direction of my house.

my initial reaction was of horror and sympathy for my neighbors, whose house i was sure was on fire. i turned to my friend to tell her what was going on in my head when i glimpsed my cousin walking towards me. i thought to myself how strange it was that jibu chachen would be at our house in the middle of the day when he had work. maybe it was stupidity, maybe it was denial, but my mind couldn't make the connection between the burning house and my cousin's presence in front of my house at 3 pm on a monday afternoon. when my mind finally made me to consider the thought i so deliberately and frantically tried to reject, my first thought was of my mother. i ran screaming towards my house only to be tackled my jibu chachen who reassured me that my mother was fine and was in the ambulance being treated for smoke inhalation. i ran to her and wouldn't let her go for fear that she was an apparition that would fade if i released her.

my mother, as many malayalee women of her generation, is a registered nurse. she used to work nights then so that my father would be around to chaperone, chauffer and care for us during the days while she slept. that monday, november 12, began as a typical day for her. she came home from work at 8 am, ate some breakfast, read the paper and went to bed. my dad used to come home in the middle of the day for lunch and so when she awoke to a blaring smoke alarm, the smell of smoke and pounding on the door, she immediately thought he left something on the stove and that he had locked himself out of the house. she made her disoriented way down the stairs only to be shocked by officer kino busting down the door and dragging her out of the house.

it was veteran's day, which meant a day off from school for most of the kids in my neighborhood, since they attended hoity toity private schools. two such brothers were bored and decided to play with bottlecrackers next to their house. one of those firecrackers they set lit fire to the array of pine cones and leaves around my house that the landscapers had yet to rake. instead of trying to put it out or notify their parents and/or the police, the kids panicked and ran away.

november is a windy, chilly time in the northeast. the crisp air is extremely unforgiving to dry skin and chapped lips. in this case, the bitter wind and the blazing fire joined forces to attack my house. what started off as a innocent, though poorly executed, game with firecrackers became a conflagration that soon devoured the only home i ever knew.

officer kino was making his rounds when he spied the smoke coming from a few blocks away. he called for firemen and police backup and then raced to my house to see what he could do in the meantime. he took my mother outside the house and stayed with her as she watched her investments, memories and security burn up before her.

by the time i reached my house, the firemen were on top of the house with chainsaws trying to break through the roof to get access to the fire attacking my house. the journalists and reporters who had arrived on the scene decided that the image of their brave but futile attempts to counter the fire was a great foil to a picture of my bawling mother and morose father. my parents did not want to call the schools to notify jeff and me. they thought they could save us from some of the horror. little did they know that the following day, every paper's front page would be covered with pictures of the house, the damage and my terrified parents.

considering the damage to the house, that took a year to tear down and reconstruct, we were incredibly fortunate. God kept my mother safe that day and enabled us to rebuild our dreams and hopes along with the house. We had numerous generous and kind friends and neighbors who gave us clothing and pots and pans. We stayed with an aunt for 2 months while looking for a house to rent and my dad shuffled us back and forth to school 30 minutes away. we moved into a terrible, tiny house in the other school district, but i had to keep that my secret for the year, lest i endure a school transfer on top of all the other changes that had set me reeling. my classmates looked at me like i was a freak, but i couldn't blame them for being aghast at the weird kid who constantly burst into tears and had to leave class. i still remember two days after the fire when i went up to mrs. lehmkuhl's desk to explain that i had lost my copy of where the red fern grows in the fire and i was terribly sorry. i was about to explain that i'd pay the fine for losing the book we were reading in class but i couldn't get the words out before she interrupted me kindly to tell me that's the last thing with which i had to concern myself. moments of kindness and compassion like that made me cry more than anything (and they still do as i'm tearing up at the memory) because i felt so raw and exposed. the compassion and generosity i received should have been a balm but somehow it just reminded me of how vulernable i was.

i didn't know how to relate to the kids i had grown up with after that, although i had always been socially awkward and painfully shy. i coudln't defend myself against cruelty and kindness made me feel incredibly lost. some horrible kids tried to make fun of the fact that i lost my innocence and security in that fire, but thankfully, the teachers were quick to squelch such hatefulness. they never made fun of me for the fire after mrs. izzo lit into them, yelling at them at how they were horrible human beings for making fun of something that was so tragic, that if it happened to them, i would have been compassionate and kind and offered whatever i could, instead of cruel and mean as they were. i suppose i can't blame them because eleven year olds are not especially equipped to deal with tragedy. we were a sheltered community, where even parents' divorcing was a foreign concept at the time. Before The Fire, I was good friends with tracy kino, officer kino's daughter. however, somehow After The Fire, i couldn't look at her without remembering how close i came to losing my mother. i think she understood because she never pushed me to explan myself.

to this day, everything in my life is separated into two time periods: Before the Fire and After the Fire. despite any other tragedies my family has suffered, we always distinguish events by their relation to the fire. morbid, perhaps, but it's our way of trying to make sense of everything.
after we moved back in, we made sure that there were smoke alarms in every room in the house. it soon became a great annoyance because the ultra-sensitive alarms would be triggered by the striking of a match to light a candle or the grilling of food on the deck. however, as aggravating as the alarms were, i never begrudged their presence because i knew exactly what could happen if the alarms did not go off in the midst of a fire.

whenever i see news of fires on tv, i'm always saddened but reminded of how fortunate my family was. i always thank God that He spared my family and send up a prayer for the poor individuals who had to suffer the loss of lives, belongings and possibly everything they ever valued in life.

last thursday's fire was a reminder of how precious and transient life is. although this was my first time awaking to a fire and blaring sirens, my wild imagination always made me sure i knew what the fire in my house in new jersey must have been like. maybe in a way, i've always been waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. i can't help but be a fatalist by nature. i was spared too easily the first time and i guess part of me has always been expecting a bigger tragedy. that part of me accepted the sirens immediately because i knew that my time had come. fortunately, God spared me again, but i wonder how many more times i will escape unharmed. it's a selfish thought in a time of tragedy, but i'd be lying if i denied having that thought.

it is devastating to think that if only the fire alarms functioned properly, two lives could have been saved. it could have been a minor fire instead of a fatal conflagration. i'm so glad that God spared the rest of the residents of my building, but i'm also conflicted about the tragedy. it was so easily preventable and unnecessary, but as a result, building management around the area are taking steps to ensure that their fire alarm systems are functioning. my apartment community is installing sprinklers that will hopefully prevent a similar tragedy from ever occurring. people are being more watchful and careful about turning off stoves, irons and other electrical devices. we're all more careful with candles and open flames.

these are all good things that i'm happy to see. however, everytime i return to my building, i'm saddened by how quickly the building is erasing signs of the fire. intellectually, i understand that charred wallpaper, soot on walls, water damage and blown out windows are bad for business. i appreciate that they are trying to eradicate reminders of the fire so that the residents can be lulled into a sense of security once again. however, i can't help but resent it all the same. two people lost their lives and a few coats of paint and new wallpaper will not diminish the emotional impact on me. i catch myself laughing or watching tv or doing something so mundane and i feel like a traitor and a hypocrite.

i, of all people in that building, should not forget so easily. i feel like i should a candelight vigil or protest. maybe i should wear black for a month to show my mourning for people i never met but for the lives that were extinguished in a combination of careless smoking and reckless building management. i know these are all silly ideas and that it wouldn't mean anything to anyone other than myself. i just can't reconcile my anxiety and sadness with the natural human instinct to persevere and push onwards.

maybe in the coming days or weeks i will be able to find a good compromise. maybe soon i won't freeze up when i hear sirens or see someone strike a match. hopefully i will be able to laugh and be carefree without feeling guilty or regretful.

maybe.

a (malayalee) family affair

2005-03-23T11:48:00.000-05:00

(the original blog was slightly different a little more specific. however, certain individuals guessed who i described and took it upon themselves to make fun of the family as well. that was not my intention. i didn't intend to "out" anyone or highlight an individual's idiosyncrasies. this post could be describing any church and, after going to a few marthoma churches, i'm convinced that families like this are everywhere.)

sometimes i think that an anthropologist or sociologist would have a field day studying the traditions, practices and culture of malayalee people. i know that i'm constantly astounded by the eccentricities i witness whenever i'm surrounded by my people. case in point: the palm sunday service at church yesterday.

the marthoma church i went to yesterday is TINY. when they purchased the building 10 years ago, i don't think the congregation expected to expand so much that the building would be woefully inadequate, as it is now. the congregation has been on the lookout for a new church or suitable plot of land to build upon, but as with all things involving malayalee people, the process has been slowed and made inefficient by the "suggestions" of the members. however, that's a post for another time. the church is always overcrowded enough to cause any fire safety instructor to experience a conniption fit, but on any "special" day, it's insane. if you want to hear the service, you're better off sitting in the parking lot with a tin can that connects by string to another tin can held by someone lucky enough to get a precious seat in the church. if you want to see it, i'd recommend stacking a precarious combination of boxes, trash cans and random, wandering children on which to stand so that you can peek through the window. the risk of injury would be just as great as you'd incur trying to squeeze into a space in the overcrowded pews.

if you've never tried to sit in a crowded mar thoma church, then you're missing out on one of life's most challenging tasks. bunjee jumping is easier than trying to finagle a few inches of prime seating area. renting an affordable, elevator operated, doorman attended, central air conditioned apartment close to several subway stops in the trendiest areas of new york is less stress inducing than trying to attend service. there are no words for the insanity that ensues on a "special" sunday. churches that are normally at a pleasant 68 degrees become smothering, sweltering, scorching death traps when they're over-occupied. yesterday, the dc weather hovered in the upper 40's. however, inside, it felt like we were in the middle of an erupting mt. vesuvius.

why is this a big deal? well, there are only two exits (not counting throwing yourself from a window out of frustration) -- through one tiny doorway that leads into the office, which is full of parents who want to hear the service and their unruly toddlers who can't behave in church, and one slightly less tiny doorway that leads to the front foyer. there's a current proposition to enlarge this second hallway because apparently it has only taken 10 years for the congregation to realize that exiting the building after qurbana has ended takes longer than the service itself.

unless you get to church 5 minutes early, then chances are, you'll be stuck sitting on a folding chair in the aisles (which does wonders to ease the flow of traffic) or, more likely, on folding chairs in the foyer or entranceway. if you get to church 15 minutes late, then you'll be sitting on the staircase, standing amongst the folding chairs in the foyer or you may give up and go downstairs to the fellowship hall to drink coffee with the uncles and watch hyperactive children run around like maniacs. it's good times.

now that i've laid the foundation for the story i'm about to tell, i think you can appreciate how insane this congregation (and of course, according to my stereotyping mind, all malayalees by extension) is. peter and i were 2 of the unlucky ones who got to church 5 minutes late and so we opted to sit in the foyer instead of fighting for our lives and a seat in the church. our seating afforded us a fabulous view of the church bulletin board about 16 inches in front of our face, as well as the backs of 3 giggly, 12 year old girls who foolishly stood even closer to the wall so that when they sat down, they were so close that they could have practiced french kissing with the thumbtacks.

this prime seating allowed me to view a sliver of the congregation inside the church if i turned my head to a 75 degree angle on the right and jutted my neck out just so. i was in the process of doing this when i viewed a rather predictable sight. anyone who has attended a malayalee function, be it something as ordinary as church or an occasion like a wedding or christmas service, can attest to the fact that the event is not complete without at least one person fainting dramatically. this past palm sunday service was no exception and i was eager to see all i could so i could properly snark on it later in this blog.

daughter, her mother and father stumbled down the aisle amidst the clutter of strollers and folding chairs filled with people. this in itself was a spectacle for the following reasons. they are one of those families who are absolutely convinced of their mar thoma royalty. uncle fights to be choir director and secretary/v.p./treasurer/some other head honcho position every year in elections. aunty is the flagship for the sevika sangham (the women's group) and the daugther is always a big cheese with the youth group. of course, the three of them always sit in the very first row of the church. the son is somewhat of a black sheep (i.e. normal) and sits in the back so as not to attract the attention his family so obviously craves.

anyway, so to exit the church, the family (minus the son, natch) had to stumble over the church length. this would have been a spectacle on its own, because you have to know what the family looks like. the aunty is the spitting image of shirley from the seminal 70's show "what's happening" (with a hint of the mom from good times thrown in), uncle looks like the human version of pepe le pue (white streak in center of hair, check), and the daughter was dressed in her princess regalia in a lengha that was about 27 yards too long for her 5 foot nothing stature, thus enabling her to stumble even more with the dragging lengha. the sight was one to behold not just b/c of their unusual appearances, but also because the family had to do it together (you know what they say, the family that stumbles together...um, crumbles together), arm in arm, with the daughter sobbing the entire way.

i didn't understand what the cause of the commotion was yet so i just amused myself by watching their disruption from my 75 degree head slant. the commotion could have died down quickly b/c the congregation immediately grew bored with watching the family proceed on the human obstacle course, but the daughter, never one to miss a moment of attention, decided to collapse right at the doorway. now, i don't mean to sound unsympathetic, but she was right at the door and one baby step would have brought her out of the church. instead, she fell to her knees sobbing hysterically and waited for her parents to lift her to her feet. apparently all the coffee-drinking uncles heard her dog-whistle like cries b/c they came up the stairs running to save her from what i'm sure they thought was some savage attack by a pack of wolves. instead, they came to a stop when they realized she was just giving into histrionics. (what made this more hilarious was that achen was droning on with the service while everyone turned around to view the spectacle). rather than waste the opportunity to be saviors for a day, they valiantly tried to rescue her from...the floor, i suppose. however, their efforts were limited by the sheer number of people crowding in the foyer and the lack of space in which to move.

uncle suddenly acquired some sixth sense and realized the chaos would continue unless he did something unimaginable. he spoke 3 memorable words that parted the crowd like God parted the red sea, "clear the way." of course, malayalees, not willing to relinquish their hold on chaos just yet, decided to make the clearing a badly orchestrated production in itself. they unnecessarily made everyone get off their folding chairs (the resulting din surely thrilled achen and the churchgoers who tried to concentrate on the service) and move to the side. eventually they dragged her to the sofa (another brilliant item to reduce traffic-flow) in the entryway . the moment she was out of the view of the crowd, she mysteriously stopped bawling. it's amazing! it's like the clapper only with the spotlight of attention shutting her on and off!

what caused her to go into histrionics like that (other than her attention withdrawal)? well apparently she either felt like she was going to faint soon (and of course instead of leaving the church when she felt faint, or at least sitting down, she started bawling like a baby.) or someone bumped into her. the bump might sound innocuous enough but she was injured a few months ago and apparently the pain was great enough to cause her to start bawling as well as make her collapse right when she could exit the church w/o causing further disruptions.

i don't mean to sound unsympathetic but i just can't stomach how malayalees are such drama queens. nothing can be down on a small scale when it can be accomplished in an amplified, hyperbolic, must-be-seen-to-be believed sort of way.

(i originally had a really humorous ending to my story (really i did!) but frigging blogspot froze in the middle and lost my entry. i know you're panting for a new post so i tried to make do with what i had, much to the detriment on the quality of this blog).

the ephemeral innocence of skin

2005-03-14T13:53:00.000-05:00

i'm a tactile person. when i see something, i am compelled to touch it, just to confirm that it feels as i expected it to feel. i love the sensation of textures under my fingertips. i think it somehow connects to the fascination i have with hands. some people check out girls' t&a's or guys' um, butts? (what DO people check out on guys?), but i just look at people's hands. i believe you can tell a great deal about people by their hands -- their lifestyles, their stress levels, their priorities, etc. it intrigues me to no end.

but i digress. as i was saying, i love to touch things, to allow my fingers travel across both familiar and unknown materials and substances. my favorite things to touch are arms, those of little babies and old people. is that weird? i feel like there is something so innocent, soft and vulnerable about both groups. i was thinking about this over the weekend as i was home for my cousin's engagement.

my amachi (my maternal grandmother) was in town for her granddaughter's engagement. i do not get to see her nearly often enough b/c she lives in florida and my aunt or uncle only bring her to visit when it's the most inconvenient for me. anyway, so whenever i see her, i'm always anxious to spend as much time as possible with her to make up for the moments of absence. my malayalam is horrid and her english has dwindled over the years. after a stroke 5 years ago, she has lost much of her eyesight and i can only imagine what she sees now. thus, our communication is silent and tactile. my amachi and i have a strong bond and i think it comes down to the fact that we both like to touch each other. we can sit for hours next to each other, with her hand on my mine. those are some of my most peaceful moments. this weekend was too busy to allow for such pleasurable moments so i had to sneak in time with my amachi when i could.

i love to stroke her arms the most. her skin is soft and loose as if it's slowly relinquishing control over the arms that have endured over 8 decades of struggling, kneading, cooking, spanking, massaging, planting, dressing, and all the other duties she's had over the years. that looseness scares me, it's a reminder of how her days are numbered... how one day her epidermal cover will not be a fortress against the onslaught of death. and yet it beckons me. i try to memorize the tactile sensations of my hand on her arm, to learn how her blood navigates through a network of veins, how each wrinkle and scar adds an unexpected complexity to her beauty and, most importantly, what it is about pattern of textures that leaves me with inadequate words to describe them. her skin is thin like gossamer. it's beautiful like a cobweb covered in dew on chilly spring morning. you might look at her arms and not see the beauty but you have to close your eyes and let your hands see.

another precious individual i spent time with this weekend was my baby niece, arundhati. her parents named her after the famous author-cum-political activist because they wanted her to be strong, proud and rebellious just like ms. roy. baby arundhati is the perfect age of 11 months when the world is her big toe, begging to be explored. she's trusting and confident that whoever holds her will guard her with all his or her might, because really, how could anyone let any harm befall such a beautiful, innocent and delicate baby?

i cherished the moments i was able to cuddle with her because her parents were anxious to whisk her back to their home in salt lake city. the next time i see her, i will be guarding her from admiring young men who will want to bask in her beauty just as her adoring cousins do now. because my tactile memories are so much more vivid than my visual bank, i had to content myself with committing her perfection to memory. as all adorable babies do, she has that soft, chubby, dimpled spot above her elbows and the strangely soft soles that only crawling babies can possess. i couldn't resist touching those two spots and fearing for the day when she will grow harder, both physically and mentally, out of necessity. i wish i could keep her at that age when she could be softly magnificent because she had countless people ready to protect her.

libby philip

2005-03-08T09:19:00.000-05:00

my dear friend libby suffered a stroke on friday and is paralyzed on
her left side. apparently she started to move some on the left side
of her face. she is alert and aware of her surroundings. she
underwent surgery yesterday to remove a clot from her shoulder. they
do not know the cause of the stroke yet.

please please please keep libby in your prayers. she's a young,
vivacious, amazing woman of God and her family has already struggled
so much.

if you want more info, please let me know or go to www.loveforlibby.com.

thank you for uplifting her in your thoughts and prayers.

barbie doll/hooters waitress

2005-03-02T15:14:00.000-05:00

there was a time when i was the epitome (at least outwardly) of confidence and self-assurance. i spoke freely about my opinions and was not afraid to voice my thoughts. no matter how negative my private thoughts regarding myself were, i tried to convey an image of self-certainty. somewhere along the line, however, that outward display has dwindled to how i appear currently. gone are the firm beliefs and articulate thoughts. in their place is a fragile resolve and incoherent speech patterns coupled with an annoying propensity to push my bangs to the side.

i'm not taken seriously anymore. i don't know how this transition occurred or why i'm only noticing it now. i know my fragile ego has taken a beating throughout the past year and a half, but being in law school surrounded by hundreds of confident, articulate, opinionated people can do that to a person of shaky self-esteem. however, this isn't the first time i've been uncertain about my intelligence or my abilities. that's why i can't understand where the thoughtful, coherent julie went. i don't recognize the spaz left in her place. i've always been a fast talker and i've always gesticulated a bit too much while speaking. stuttering used to be a problem for me if i was struggling to talk at an unfamiliar, slow pace. however, now i just stutter constantly, say "um" and "you know" like it's going out of style and end my statements on a high note as if i'm not asking a question or not committed to my declaration.

it's becoming an increasing concern for me because i'm gearing up the enter the work force for real this time (i consider the "break" between college and law school (not much of a respite considering i worked 14 hour days). who will take me seriously when i'm nearly unintelligible when i speak? do i even want anyone to understand me, considering that the majority of the words coming out of my mouth are nonsensical filler? from where did the disconnect between my thoughts and my mouth come? as i'm typing this, i'm imagining myself speaking and while i think my writing is fairly coherent, i know my spoken version would be embarrassing to witness.

i'm reminded of this girl on the current apprentice. her name is erin and she looks like tamara coming out of the well in the ring. she has long brown hair that, with her too-long bangs, hang in her face. she makes the strangest expressions when things catch her off-guard and you just look at her and think BIMBO! (ok, maybe just i do). however, i must admit that she's surprised me a little because she's more articulate than i expected. while i think she's full of crap half the time, she can think relatively fast on her feet and she doesn't stumble over words like i currently do. guess the egg's on my face.

given my misconception of her intelligence and ability to communicate ideas, i worry about the impression i convey to other people, especially professors and future employers. part of me wants to let my work attest to my ability but the other part of me worries that i won't even get that opportunity to do that because people will judge me right off the bat and write me off as a ditz. i can't say i'd blame anyone who does that.

practiced indifference

2005-02-28T21:43:00.000-05:00

Psychology fascinates me. I am intrigued by the theories into the psyche and exploring the causes and results of behavior. I find my interest peaked particularly with respect to how individuals respond to obstacles. While most psychologists and academics study the human responses to major crises, I am curious about how we react to more minor conflicts. How do we deal with lesser obstructions that inhibit our enjoyment of life? I think I am particularly fascinated by this area because my own responses perplex me.

I am full of idosyncrasies. While I am a take-charge and energetic person when it comes to events outside my personal life, I am afflicted with an inability to respond to minor occurrences within my personal hemisphere. I do not know if is laziness, tedious forethought or some other flaw that debilitates me, but often, when I face minor challenges, I tend to ignore them than to try to conquer them. Is it my ostrich-like reflex -- do I sincerely believe that if I don't see it, it's not there or something possibly more insiduous?

There have been two unopened roll of paper towels on this desk for over a month now. In early January, I ran out of paper towels and while visiting George's parents, George pilfered some paper towels from his house. That evening, when we entered my apartment, he placed them on the desk. I told myself that I'd put the towels away with the other groceries. While cleaning the kitchen last week, I asked my roommate if there were any more paper towels in the closet and if so, could she please give me a roll. She passed me a roll that from the desk. I was so astonished that I had never put the rolls away that my roommate had to laugh at my surprised expression.

How is it that over a month, I somehow ceased to notice the presence of the rolls? Did my mind selectively edit the rolls out of the image of the desk? Did my subconscious grow too tired of noting the continuing presence of the towels? It seems like a silly thing with which to be concerned, but it makes me wonder how often in life I stop seeing things. Can I trust my perception of reality when I cannot rely on something as simple as my memory of an image that I see daily?

This leads me to question how I managed to forget that the desk itself was a huge eyesore in my first year of living in this apartment. I was the first to move here and my roommate followed the week after. I brought my bedroom furniture, kitchen-related items, living room entertainment stand and a dining room set. My roommate brought her bedroom and living room furniture, per our agreement of which of us was providing which items for the shared apartment space. I was out running errands and only returned after she had moved her belongings in and then returned home for a few days. The first thing I noted when I entered the apartment was the large, mahogany, corporate office-like desk in the large combined dining-living area we shared. My roommate later told me that the desk was a castoff from her father's brokerage firm and did not fit into her doorway so she went home to obtain a saw. Her plan was to cut the legs off the desk and then move it into her bedroom. Eighteen months have passed and the desk is in its original place. In the meantime, she purchased a smaller desk for her bedroom but never made an attempt to do anything with this large eyesore. It used to drive me crazy, this obvious presentation of "what in this picture does not belong?" My visitors commented on it whenever they first came to the apartment, but at some point, I went from total aggravation to accepting its presence.

Is this what oysters experience? When they first encounter an grain of sand in the sensitive folds of skin, they are irritated. Over time, however, that experience fades as their bodies produce a chemical to coat the object and reduce the irritating quality. Eventually, those tiny irritants become beautiful pieces that, when taken together, form the obligatory accoutrement for a female Capital Hill employee or DC attorney -- the pearl earrings/necklace set.

While oysters have the ability to take an obstruction and create something beautiful from it, a skill I obviously do not share, I wonder if there is a similarity in my response and the way oysters gravitate from irritation to acceptance of the annoyance. Is this fanciful thinking? Am I just too lazy to take control of a situation and confront the annoyances? Or am I too non-confrontational that I would rather allow a situation to proceed than give voice to my aggravation?

I've told myself that there's no point in making a fuss about the desk now, seeing as it's already been a year and a half and hopefully I'll be moving out soon. This kind of rationalization is common for me. I delay responding to an aggravation to the point that I convince myself there's no need for a reaction. I tell myself that I am not bothered by minor irritations, but then they catch me off guard, as do the towels and the desk, and I remember that there was a time when things that were out of place like this would have driven me insane.

Now, the most I can muster up is a vague feeling of annoyance, but nothing more. I know that this desk will continue to be an eyesore and taunt me with my failure to respond timely, and that is now the source of my annoyance. I wish I could take minor aggravations and transform those feelings into something of value or utility, but that would require more effort than I am capable of expending at the moment. One of these days, I will teach myself to respond to situations at the moment I am irritated, instead of allowing their abrasiveness to wear off so that I can conveniently ignore them. Hopefully I will learn how to be discerning, to pick and choose the opportune moments to respond to something. In the meantime, I will hone my ability to ignore annoyances.

testing

2005-02-28T11:44:00.000-05:00

There was a time when my thoughts and ideas overwhelmed me. They begged to be expressed and I ignored them. I believe fear, a deeply rooted certainty that I would be disappointed with myself, was the cause of my problems. I winced at the possibility of hating what I produced, of feeling that my hope of a talent for writing was really just a pipe dream that was better to bury.

While in college, I experienced a short spurt of courage. I immersed myself in creative writing courses, contributed to some publications and workshopped my writing. It was not the earth-shattering event that I imagined. There was no humiliation, nor was there any exhilaration. What I did experience surprised me -- a slow-building satisfaction, not with the results of my writing, but with the conquering of my fear. I made myself available for examination and criticism and I survived the onslaught of self-doubt that was my companion for too long. It should have been the beginning for me, but slowly, under the time drought created by work and law school, I packed away that burgeoning creativity. I convinced myself that those thoughts would meekly return to the recesses of my mind, that they would subside from a dull roar to a quiet whisper,which I could ignore once again. Unfortunately, I underestimated the strength of silenced creativity. The force of the absence was greater than anything I have ever experienced. I am flooded with thoughts and ideas but I cannot imagine how to express them. I fear that my creativity has been banished like I intended, before I knew what I was asking of myself.

This is my test. It is a challenge to myself to excavate the creativity from the years of self-recrimination and fear of failure. It is my opportunity to take what I think God has given me and USE it. This is my story.