I Carry You With Me...To The Sound Of The Rain

 

 

Ah it rains today. 

It's a steady drizzle.  There is nothing beautiful about this sort of rain.  It simply permeates every available space, seeping deeply and coating everything with a fine sheen of wet.  I'm not a fan of this sort of weather at all although rain, the kind that you hear upon the roof of your home, I love. 

Last night as I watched the news, I knew that upon waking my brain would have to be on 'staying dry' mode which meant throwing the hair into a bun and dashing to 'safe' non-wet zones.  This isn't difficult seeing as how I pretty much go from one garage to another.  I shouldn't even complain about this one bit.  But yes, I 'm not feeling the present climate not because it's damn inconvenient, that the locals have no idea how to navigate in it or that it causes utter chaos in the hair department.  No, it is what it is however, the doldrums I'm suffering is more or less because my heart longs...

I long for a tin roof and a yard flooded with lake water that has escaped its confinement.  I long to sit on a veranda sipping hot tea.  I long for the wind howling lullabies in which to fall asleep to and a bizarre combination of warm and cold fluttering through my hair.  But most of all, my heart yearns for a tall solitary figure with a beard as white as the snow, kind soulful eyes and a voice that is a deep timber that soothes.

 

I've written before about my grandfather (mothers father) who passed away long ago.  I was but a mere 17 and yet his face is as vibrant today as it was then.  I can sit here, close my eyes and imagine him perfectly clearly.  And when it's raining, somehow he is the person who comes to mind immediately.

 

This is just a good reminder to me how no one is truly gone, are they?  He lives and breathes in my memories.  He may have passed far too soon for my liking however, I carry him with me all the time.  There were precious moments which my young cousins now will never have with him, which makes me a billion times blessed simply for having had those opportunities to sit with him and wonder at his intellect.  For a man who had grown up so 'old school' he had been remarkably open-minded as well as compassionate.  I don't know whether he ever travelled outside of the boarders of his own country but his ability to acknowledge and embrace the differences of the world spoke towards a man who simply got it.  And there was nothing, absolutely nothing better than listening to him impart some sort of wisdom that had my eyes opening wide.

 

He would sit on his bed and count rosary beads endlessly, softly, lips moving rapidly.  His white kurta was starched and perfect, his lungi always freshly laundered.  He smelled of soap, I recall and lotion.  His eyes, when I sat with him and described life in the States, would twinkle with interest and mirth.  I was so young and starved for a grandfathers love and attention which he gave me generously and to retain that attention (which I didn't have to really work hard at doing) I would inject everything I said with ridiculous over-exaggeration to make him laugh.   

 

I have a pair of earrings he gave me during one of the last trips I took to Bangladesh before his passing.  That purchase had cost him dearly for although gold was cheap then, he didn't have disposable income hence he had saved up, I can't imagine for how long.  Yet when he handed them to me as I sat beside him crossed legged on that bed (more like a cot) of his, late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, his chest had puffed out with pride as well as a certain sense of anxiousness.  He wanted me to like them.  How could I not?  They are slightly tarnished now, totally out of style but without a doubt the most beautiful and precious thing I have in my jewelry box.  I pull them out, put them on and feel the tears gather in my eyes, every single time. 

 

Another thing he gave me, that same year, had been a salwar kameez (one of our traditional outfits which consists of a long top, pants and a long scarf).  He had insisted on going with my aunt to purchase it, being super picky about it and yes, that too is in my closet, wrapped lovingly in cloth to protect the silver filigree embroidery (although now that too is tarnished).  I think about these things, who will I pass them on to, who will understand ever the deep meaning behind them and I realize, no one.  Even if I had a daughter, she wouldn't be able to quite grasp the significance of these two items.  I suppose that's to be expected.

 

I won't lie, I'm terribly melancholy.  I want to go back to the days when he would be sitting calmly on that blasted cot while I made him drink a combination of Horlicks and milk which he would never do for anyone else but me without kicking up a stink.  I want to once again run into the house and zoom to his side to tell him about all the adventures of the day or to simply lean in to kiss his delicate parchment-like cheek before running off to do something else. 

 

I miss you so much, Nana.  I don't know why today I've walked around thinking so much about you with every step.  Even during meetings, while responding to emails or giving instructions to the team to take care of some task, your beloved and handsome face flashes before my eyes.  I had to write this down, I had to get this out and hope that it will purge the need to break down in tears and mourn all the lost time and memories we were not able to share.

 

I just know that wherever you are, Allah (swt) is taking care of you.

KABLAM! Oh, Hello Wall, My Old Friend

I've been trying to blog for about a week now.  When I say that I mean I've actively been typing out my thoughts and then two days later it's irrelevant or the topic seems trite so I start all over again.  It happened so many times that I'm a wee frustrated but here we go as I try yet again...

 

The weekend has passed in a working haze.  I've been stuck to my computer for most of it, only managing to pull myself away long enough to attend a baby shower for a friend.  That was tons of fun and very grounding in many ways.  I realize that people actually do fun things that do not involve conference calls, spreadsheets, deadlines or deliverables.  Go figure -_-  Otherwise it's back home to the kitchen table to bang away at the keyboard.  I'm thinking about naming my computer at this point since we spend so much time together and it goes wherever I go.  In fact, maybe I should buy it some bling?  After all, it's seen me through some tough times and it deserves to know just how much I appreciate, right?  Isn't this what happens in a committed relationship?

 

Oh for the love of Pete, how ridiculous is it that I'm actually writing about this?  As if I have nothing else in my existence (sadly enough I don't).  But to many degrees it's true, besides work I've had little time to focus on anything else.  And here's the perfect example of how embittered I am becoming.  At 8pm on Friday night at work, as I sat glumly waiting for a client to respond to an 'important' email, I typed out this blog on my handheld.  Re-reading it now even I cringe at how despondent and hopeless I sound.  Take a look:

 

____________________________________

Ok, this wasn't a good week. I'm exhausted and grumpy. There is no relief for this nonsense anytime soon, not that I can see. Every second at work is accounted for and then some. I have no time to breathe much less eat or sleep. The days have managed to meld together in an atrocious manner that I refuse to accept as permanent.  I'm not sure how I still love what I do and work with the people who I work with when it leads to the days and nights to seamlessly run into each other.  And this is only but a part of what's really happening.

 

It's as if all the burdens of the world have suddenly found my shoulders and it's all come to roost. I don't even have the strength to unburden myself to anyone, even though I always suggest my friends to release. But somehow I feel as if letting go of mine, even if it's to share, isn't right.

 

Here's the thing about me:  I have a few close, dear, super tight friends who I share my woes with. But even with them I withhold.  That's how I've always been. There came a point when I decided to take advantage of my friendships (and not in a bad way) by taking folks up on their offer to be a shoulder. I realized quickly that my problems aren't the only in the world and by adding to their plate I'm doing them no favors. Instead they worry and fret and that, my Readers, goes against the very definition of my existence, to not burden anyone.  I'm the chick who will figure out a way instead of asking for help, even if it means I'm turning myself inside out by doing this.

 

Keep in mind though, when I know a friend is doing this I won't stand for it, or if my family is in need I will fly to their sides but for me?  No, I keep it to me and now...maybe I'm hitting a wall. Physically, mentally, and emotionally I'm wiped out.  Most of the time I'm simply trying to stand up-right and whereas at one point organizing my mind wasn't all that difficult, now it's scattered all over the seven seas. They drift around me in an pattern which I can not identify.  When I try put them into some sort of semblance that makes sense, they run through my fingers in the most frustrating yet beautiful dance.

 

Every limb aches from trying to clutch at something that makes sense. When did I get back here?  Is success in this new chosen profession so very important?  Do I need to push myself like this?  Need I constantly try to reach for perfection constantly, even though I know there is n o such thing?  Why can't I settle with mediocrity or at least doing the best that I can, which really isn't so bad? 

 

No, I'm not impressive, as some may believe or as it may sound. Nor am I stunningly admirable, not when most of my existence is all about the grind.  Frankly speaking, not a damn thing about me is admirable. And don't think that I'm bragging. Believe when I say none of this is in any way, shape or form, bragging. I detest this about me because at the end of the day I'm no use to anyone, much less myself when I've worked myself into exhaustion.  Exhaustion leads to being stupidly emotional and that...is never EVER a good thing because being emotional manifests itself into tears.  No Bueno.  But the fact is that this is just...me. It's built into the person that I am and I can't even make excuses for this idiot.  Even my sun sign reflects my characteristics, as it's want to do. I am every inch a Capricorn, and as I grow older I realize that more and more.

 

Sounds good though, right?  Being driven and organized and tenacious with a fierce sense of loyalty?  Yea, sounds wonderful. Reality?  It sucks. I absolutely loathe all this about me and more.

 

Clearly I've hit a low point.  Amazing too when I've just gotten back from a wonderful vacation, isn't it?  But truthfully the afterglow has long since dissipated like mist (how cheesy is that line?).  Regardless of the cheese factor is 100% true. I keep yearning for a place that I can't get back to anytime soon and instead I'm faced with a life of drudgery that intimidates me.

 

Have you ever felt that?  Where your very life scares the socks off you?  Look, there they go!  

 

One of my friends said to me recent (totally joking): get yo life together.

 

Ain't that the truth?  I laughed at that for a bit but as most things go, it got me thinking. Yes, that's what I need to do, get my life together.

________________________________________

 

Has anything really changed from that  moment to this?  No, not really.  I do feel the same and this weekend brought to light just how much I'm morphing back into the person I once was when working in a law firm.  I thought I had shed the need to be glued to my handheld, could turn it off and put it away to enjoy the 'me' time that I had rarely been able to have.  I had figured out the importance of life, which order things were supposed to go in and what meant something to me.  All of this came upon the heals of watching someone I love slowly die from cancer.  I knew, after experiencing that, I didn't want to die one day and say I never lived.  She taught me all about living by simply watching her.  Her whole philosophy was to embrace all the beauty and fun of life while still working hard but not to let the latter get into the way of the former.  Ameen, Phoopi, ameen.

 

So I reassessed my priorities and had it all figured out. 

 

Or so I had thought. 

 

My mom, who is still in Bdesh asked me Friday night via FaceTime what had happened, why I looked so worn out.  You know how there's a little window where you can see your own face in the chat box?  Well that window reflected loudly just how bad I did look and I saw for myself what my mommy was seeing.  So not good.  She insisted to know why was I once again manic and working lunatic hours, that this job wasn't supposed to lead to that.  I thought about that for a few seconds and finally responded with a shake of my head, "I'm ambitious."  Never thought of myself as such.  Not really.  I am more of the 'nose to the grindstone' sort of humanoid.  I don't try to beat anyone else, I don't try to work up the corporate ladder by shanking others on the way (not literally of course).  Mostly I bide my time, fully embracing patience.  I believe that singular trait is in fact a virtue and I will eventually get mine (am I naïve?).  That and also I'm pretty stupendously lazy hence waiting isn't that big of a deal. 

 

I took this job knowing for the most part it would be a 9-5.  My time after work would be just that, mine.  I didn't have to share it with the company nor clients nor even directors.  This was the understanding until about January of 2014 when all that went to hell in a hand basket (what does that term mean anyhow?  Why a hand basket?  Why not a satchel or even a box?  Boxes are far more attainable than a hand basket and cheaper no less...wow, I so digressed).  The Project Manager here left and my director suggested that I take over one or two of his clients.  He had assured me that the shift in responsibilities would not add much to my plate, even suggesting that we do it on a more temporary basis.  If I wasn't 'feeling' it, then I could go back to what it was I was doing (which I barely remember anymore).  I agreed, albeit grudgingly.

 

Now, over a year later here I am still 'doing it', the only difference being that I have more cases (many, many more) added to the plate and the handheld once again has become my bestie.  Maybe I should also give my handheld a name.  Something exotic and badass?

 

There you go, Folks, that's how life has been at least for me.  I'm going to try hard this week to put down some hard lines, to not take onto my plate any more for it would be physically impossible to do anyhow and to give some professional push back.  I do not want another weekend to slip by, I will never get them back anyhow.  I also am determined to stop wasting my time and effort on individuals who do not deserve it. 

 

I've always had the habit of giving more of myself than necessary, whether it's on a professional or personal level.  Although this is indeed an admirable quality within anyone, it also brings absolutely NO return.  I have put myself out there time and again for others and on so many occasions when I'm silently looking desperately for someone to turn to me and say, 'it's your turn, talk to me,' I can't find that anchor.  I've said it before and although the resolve hadn't ever lasted, I will say it again now:  enough Mrs. Nice Brown Gal.

 

Let's see how this goes.  Wish me luck! 

Fate or Coincidence?

I wrote a blurb on FB yesterday amidst exhaustion about how funny fate is, not like 'ha ha' but rather...interesting funny. 

I thought more about this through the morning routine of getting ready for another crazy day at work.  I wasn’t precisely dragging my feet but the bounce in my step had ebbed for sure, even as I pulled on the monkey outfit that I was forced to wear due to client meetings.  I recall as a child I would watch the be-suited folks hurrying around in the city looking important and busy, thinking that I wanted to do the exact same one day, but now that I’m here…backsies!

Anyhow, chewing on my bottom lip, I thought of the word “fate” as I weaved in and out of traffic.  Do I believe in it, I was asked by a friend who I hadn’t spoken to in quite a while last night?  That was the flowering of the thought.  I answered, “yes” without hesitation.  But did I? 

This acquaintance, for not quite a friend yet, I had met not too long ago and have been able to establish a someone tenuous connection of sorts, enough to exchange words here and there.  I hadn’t heard from him in a hot minute and wanted to check in so quickly typed out a text to the extent of ‘hope things are well with you’.  He responded with, ‘not so great, but I’m surviving’.  I don’t know about you but I can’t ignore things like this.  I had to ask the obvious question not because of some distorted nosy need to just know but out of genuine concern for my fellow human.  He wouldn’t have said what he said if he didn’t in some way want to be asked, right?

I was surprised when he opened up, not taking even a moment to hesitate.  He told me that he was addicted to prescription drugs and was checking himself into rehab and that he was ‘terrified’.  My squishy heart instantly went out to him and instead of continuing the texting bit, we jumped onto the phone.  And yes, he was terrified, one could hear it in the slight nervous laughter.  He also have barely shared this information with anyone close, ‘not even mom’ as he put it.  I asked him why and he said he was ashamed.

We chatted for a bit, as I was on my way back to work at 9pm last night hence the conversation was shorter than it should have been but I did my bit in reassuring him that there was nothing to be embarrassed about and that what he was doing by admitting and then trying to rectify this addiction bespoke strength and courage.  He seemed somewhat mollified, thanked me for taking the time to listen and I disappeared into work. 

The question remains: was it fate that had me reaching back out to him so many months later?  It wasn’t like I was obligated to, I nearly deleted the texts we had exchanged ages ago, relegating him to one of the hundreds of names in my phone book but something made me pause and say to myself, ‘let me just see…’  and now I’m glad I did.  I think truly he needed someone to share his inner fears with ad that person just happened to be me.  No regrets here.

But was it fate? 

The negative side of me thinks that all this is total and utter bunk, that there is no “grand scheme” that leads us down particular paths to which we are supposed to come face-to-face with our destiny.  That ‘glass half empty’ part of who I am believes that everything is random and makes no damn sense and that we live and breathe in chaos.  Somehow this is not a comforting thought though. 

Then there’s the other more spiritual, far more trusting side (one that I repress a lot).  Possibly due to a huge injection of religion into my life from childhood, I do somehow believe that nothing is by chance, not a damn thing.  Much like the butterfly effect, even the smallest of actions has long lasting and unrealized repercussions.  Don’t think so?  Think that we make a plan and if we follow it then that’s where we get to as long as we don’t deviate?  Ever speak to a young child who gets accidently knocked up at the age of 15 and suddenly the very trajectory of her existence has changed?  You think that was truly planned?  No.  Fate was that she was supposed to be a mother.  She was supposed to meet the pimply faced horny football star who was going to impregnate her and then vamoose. 

Or how about the optimistic youth who dreamed of being a lawyer and then when it came time, he/she didn’t have the funds to see through law school?  Again one could easily argue that this isn’t fate at all but is it at all possible that it’s just the angle from which you’re looking at things?  Tilt your head or scrub your brain and ponder it again and the vision may be different?

I don’t purport to be the authority of everything psychological, not even by a long shot.  For the most part my blog is simply full of theories as to why things happen, what led to the eventuality and possibly how to resolve.  All of this was/is written from a very one-sided point of view (mine) and I’m not ashamed of that.  I don’t also believe that I’m so egotistical that I wouldn’t consider all the arguments that could be thrown to deflect these theories (hey, I worked in a profession where that’s all we do, deflect) nor that I wouldn’t bow to the greater wisdom and intelligence of others and reassess.  That doesn’t mean I will change my mind but I will see the other side of the argument as a valid one while agreeing to disagree.  The main thing here that I employ every day is the ability to actually look at things from another angle which would otherwise not have been one I would have considered.  In my humble opinion this makes me a better debater and a more well-rounded person all at the same time.  That’s what I’m asking for you, my reader, to do.

Fate, in fact, is pretty amusing.  Here’s a cool story that not many know:

Many moons ago, as my mother was manically looking for the right man to hitch me to, she scoured the desi newspapers and there, in black and white, was a matrimonial ad.  Finding it appealing she called and spoke to the brother of the gentleman who was ready to take the leap.  The two (the dudes bro and my mom) hit it off spectacularly but alas within a few short days we were leaving for Bdesh where the matrimonial market was indeed larger.  FYI, neither I, nor the poor sap who was being set up, knew that all this was happening.

The next three months in Bdesh was full of family fun and yes, meeting prospective bridegrooms.  It seemed as if everyone and their Nani’s (grandmothers) were anxious to fix a union between myself and some random (but eligible) guy who really, really wanted to ‘marry’ me (read that as ‘visa to the USA’).  I was, to say the least, neither the least interested nor amused for that matter.  The men were okay looking enough but the chemistry wasn’t there and most certainly the intelligence factor.  Then one fine day, my mom’s eldest sister showed me a picture of a gentleman who was not only pretty cute but lived in the states (read that as ‘no visa required’).  He called me for the first time long distance while I was still there a few days after and we clicked.  He was goofy and ridiculous and sincere.

The engagement was 3 months after meeting for the first time once I had returned to the States, the marriage another 3 months post.  But it was during the engagement party where the two families came together that fate also introduced itself.  Remember the schmo whose brother had posted that ad and who my mother had spoken to months and months before?  Yea, P’s older bro.  When we were told what had happened, both of us stood there agape feeling a bit offended that our peeps had to resort to putting ads out on our behalf and amazed at the sheer weird and bizarre coincidence.  What it boiled down to though?  This shit was meant to be.  Don’t think that’s some pretty funky fate?

The lesson still wasn’t learned back then, that fate steered our individual ships, although one would think that it would have been drilled into place shortly after the revelation?  But I’m stubborn and refused to believe that picking P wasn't my choice, all mine but rather some brilliant masterminding strategic planning with fate moving the pieces.  I believed that had the hand in my destiny, no one else. 

I’m an idiot. 

And as for the buddy who is terrified to enter rehab and face the detox period…well maybe fate reconnected us simply so that I could be that person who he reaches out to in his darkest hour for some sort of mental comfort?  I told him as much, that I would be here even if he decides not to take me up on that offer.   At least I did my part and he has heard the heartfelt proposal, right?

These, my dearest followers, are the moments of life where you realize that you may actually have a purpose and not just floating around in the ether for no reason.  I have pondered the meaning of life plenty of times, why am I here, what is my aim for being, why do I exist?  As a kid these thoughts never bothered me, I figured that I wasn’t all that special so it didn’t matter.  Not to say that the parentals didn’t remind me every day that I was a "special snowflake" (and don't take that in the more American smartass way).  But I surmised that the simplest reason for the presence of my being was to leave a carbon footprint behind, to use up some oxygen, to create a memory or two and then become one with the earth.  I accepted that but as childhood gave into adult consciousness, the questions haven’t been so easily brushed away.  I want more meaning to my life, to be able to say, ‘yes, that’s what I did…and it was worth living just to do it…”.

Was having a chat with this friend enough to prove the above?  That my life has completed its purpose?  Of course not!  I would never be so arrogant as to think that one act of kindness would give definition to an age old question.  Rather that I realize there are no chance encounters, no coincidences but in fact strategic placement of us at certain moments where two worlds collide, often for the bigger benefit of one while the other enjoys the residual afterglow.    Sure, it’s not always positive either, at least on the onset but once again it’s all about angles and how you look at things (as I mentioned above).

For example:

Think of that relationship, the toxic one which you were in and you may wonder, ‘how was that good?  What did that teach me?’  Yea, this is harder to see after suffering heartbreak.  This isn’t easily revealed.  But even in this sense I believe fate intervenes.  How is that?  Well, if before the relationship in question you were shy/introverted/anti-love/whatever and after you realized that you could get over your shyness, allow yourself to become more extroverted and yes, even believe that love is real, then those are lessons you were supposed to learn and you can thank fate for bringing the douchebag who, unwittingly, taught you them into your life.

See?  Or did I totally confuse you?

Anyhow, I hope that I’ve helped manage to enlighten you (in a non-professional, unqualified, rambling way) or at least given you something interesting to read during your down-time and you’re trying to look busy and the only option is to check out my blog so it appears as if you’re doing something interesting…regarding this particular topic.

Oh, the internet’s been down at work for the last 3 hours.  I’ve been freaking out since I need to deliver a production to a client by 2pm.  It’s now 12:48pm.  My heart has been beating out of control and my palms have been slightly damp (which never happens).  Nausea is but hairs breath away and my nerves are a jangled mess (this is some serious stuff here).  No one can really tell that I’m this freaked out, which is a good thing because my team doesn’t need the added pressure.  The only way I could think of calming myself down was to type out this blog since I could do nothing else other than pray.  I’m telling you this just so no one thinks I’m sitting around writing all this nonsense while complaining at the same time about how busy I am.  I assure you, I will pay for these 3 hours at the end of the day.

Alright, I’m off to hyperventilate some more.

Have a great day!

Snapshot of Life, Rubi Style

Oh jeez, what a bleh weekend.

 

First, I worked both Saturday and Sunday.  So no bueno.  I was not appreciative when a client called me at 10:30am on Saturday to yack at me about this, that and the other.  I love how quickly I can put my work hat on and assure him in my most dulcet tones that he was fine, he wasn't bothering me, I had nothing better to do on a beautiful sunny morning anyhow, most certainly not living any semblance of a life.  Nah, he could totally bother me WHENEVER! : )

 

After which I jumped on line and started to ruin just about everyone else's Saturday along with my own.  Doesn't this just make me a total peach?

 

Saturday night, however, we had another 3 month program.  I've mentioned this before but as a refresher, these are the music 'recitals' (for the lack of a better term) where my Ustadji's (aka Dad) students perform.  Like a showcase.  I used to be a wreck before these gigs but I guess to some extent I'm getting used to them hence the nerves were few and far in-between.  Then again 15 minutes before taking the stage to perform the duet with N (my cuz), I was responding to emails from work.  Again, isn't my life stellar?!

 

Here's a truth one can't deny:  work can kill damn near any joy in the world.

 

How did the performance go, you may be wondering?  Terrible.  Well not precisely but it wasn't good by my standards, which are super low to begin with because generally speaking I blow.  N, as  usual, was sublime.  Her voice gives me a complex but weirdly enough in a good way.  The natural gorgeousness of it is stunning and next to her I sound like a constipated elephant.  I can just imagine how many people first hear her sing, then I start and they're mentally thinking, "please stop, please just stop and let her take over".  And no, there is no jealousy towards my bestie.  She has been blessed and even when I sit there and hear her, I want not to sing so that she's not interrupted. 

 

She did a terrific job although guaranteed she will say she sucked.  I, however, lost tempo all together and my bro who was accompanying us gave me this "what the hell are you doing" look that had me giggling in the midst of it all.  It's a good thing I was so damn distracted by work otherwise I would have left immediately after wards, found a cave and huddled within till the year.  And I always feel bad when others feel obligated to say 'good job'.  I know they're thinking, 'boy you really stunk, what the hell was all that?' in reality.  And I tried to avoid stopping too long to speak to anyone so that they didn't have to feel obligated to give me kudos but it couldn't be helped.

 

The good thing is, the otherwise 2 hour drive to the venue was cut in half on the way home due to no traffic anywhere (did everyone leave town?) while I was yacking with N regarding post-performance agonizing. 

 

I fell into a fairly dreamless sleep which is good because lately I've been having some fairly twisted dreams that I cannot recall for reference sake right now but I know that every morning I wake up feeling slightly discomfited.  You know, like something is so off and you can't put your finger on it?

 

Sunday, I got up and went to Starbucks to get my java fix, admiring the cute kiddies who were skipping in with their fluffy crinoline dresses holding their parents hands and beaming from ear-to-ear.  It's always fun to drive by churches on Easter Sunday as the congregation pours out in their finery, smiling, laughing, uplifted.  They must feel how we Muslim's feel when we leave Eid prayer : )  Ah, truly how alike are we?

 

Now is...Wednesday.  Oh jeez, have the days flown by so swiftly that I had to pause for a minute to think about it?

 

Yea, well let me just continue with my update. 

 

Monday was hell, Tuesday was hell and Wednesday...for what I've already gone through...has been hell.

 

End of story.

Another Day in Paradise

My computer is broken.

 

Let's start by saying this out loud so I can purge some of this frustration from my being while at the same time embracing this very ugly truth. 

 

It's broken, broke, broke-down, eff'ed up...

 

I'm at least relieved to say that it is in fact not the one at home, but my work laptop.

 

It does all sorts of cray things like show lines which I do not want to see, go black screen and give me warnings that something catastrophic is about to happen.  I swear I haven't downloaded any porn (heh) or anything for that matter.  Not only am I flummoxed by this, so is the IT dude.  He has tried everything to repair.  Now you could be wondering, why not replace it?  Well this is actually my second 'puter.  The first one did the same wonky ass shit which caused a real need for a swap out. 

 

Now I'm back to 'there' again.  In this sense 'there' represents the need to take it and toss it into the Potomac. 

 

Ain't this a shame, though?  I mean I tried to get myself into a happy place before walking into work, sucking down my iced coffee with cream and sugar, listening to tunes that put a little hop and shimmy in my step and even managed to chat with a friend for a few minutes.  These were all positives.  And being in that state of mind I thought to myself that maybe, just maybe...the problems with my computer would cease and desist.  See, I can be positive when I want to be, when I really put some effort into it.

 

But this attitude wasn't meant to last for long.  After a few keystrokes all the "401" warnings started to populate the screen.  This is definitely a man vs. technology thing and at this point, technology is kicking ass.

 

Awesome.

 

Luckily, I work with folks who I legitimately like so when it was suggested that a few of us go to lunch, I jumped up quickly in agreement.  The sad fact is that rarely do any of us indulge in going out to eat.  If we do, we grab food and come back to the office to consume whatever it is in the break room. Sounds terrible, doesn't it?  But we actually enjoy that time to kick it and the conversations are pretty damn entertaining.  I believe I'm mentioned before that my colleagues are intensely smart, superlatively hard workers and ridiculously hilarious.  For the most part everyone here gets along (Allhamdulillah) which is why I plan to go no where anytime soon.

 

So off we go, up to M Street to enjoy a Thai buffet.  On the way back, in the midst of taking a step, I leave behind one of my heels.  Yes, here is a huge threat to all women (and a few men *wink wink*) in the city.  The streets, grates, cracks just love to grab ahold of a heel and simply hang on while letting the female herself to whistle on her merry way until she realizes that something is seriously wrong, often being revealed in a defined limp.  

 

Best story ever:  many moons ago my colleague and I are hurrying to a lunch meeting.  One moment she's next to me, the next...not.  I stop to look around and spot her at least 10 steps behind waving at me frantically.  I make my way back only to discover that she is standing still, a weird smile plastered to her face.  "What's wrong," I ask, knowing we were already running late.

 

"My shoe is stuck..." she mutters out of the side of her lips, the smile still in place.  She's totally motionless.

 

"What?"  I asked, looking down.

 

"I'm stuck!" She grunts, motioning at her 3 inch heels which make my feet hurt without even wearing them.

 

"Well unstick yourself, we're late!"  I insist, exasperated.  This is 12:30pm in China Town located smack dab in the middle of the city.  There were people everywhere and we still had a good block and half to go.

 

"I can't!  Help!"

 

"What the hell do I do?"  I threw up my hands, near on panic since we were meeting our partner and client for lunch.  The partner didn't appreciate tardiness, at all. If not for the meeting though, I would have had a good laugh at her predicament.

 

"I don't know."  She practically wailed. 

 

Long story short, she had to step out of her shoes, effectively proving she wasn't as statuesque as she would like for people to believe and we both wrangled it out of the jaws of the sidewalk.  She hopped on one foot to slip back into it, using my shoulder as balance and off we went.  And what happens next?  20 steps later, she's stuck again.

 

Yup.  Can't make this stuff up.

 

This very similar thing happened to me 3 times in the process of getting back from lunch.

 

My mood right now is better.  May be it's because the day is beautiful or because I've decided not to give a damn as to whether the computer is working or not.  The right people have been informed and until things have been resolved, I can't freak out or at least there's little point to it.  Instead I'm resolved to getting out of here shortly and trying to make the most of my night.  I considered going for a run (on the treadmill) or even attempting the hip hop ab video again but those two options are far less appealing than taking a long walk by the river or hanging out with a few girls at work.  Just sayin'.

 

I'm also equally resolved NOT to work tonight.

 

Wish me luck on that one.

Musings of the Fashion Handicapped

 

 

Granted, I'm not the biggest fashionista you'll ever lay your eyes on.  I tend to blend, not very remarkable at all.  However, it's not that I'm ignorant of fashion, I just chose to not indulge.  That also doesn't mean I don't appreciate it.  I've seen women who look so amazing that they oft times leave me speechless.  And yes, I've seen other females who could have really re-thought their clothing options as well as wondering if they had a mirror handy because obviously they didn't take a peak before heading out of their home.  But for the most part, for all these snarky thoughts about the occasional outfit here and there, I've rarely looked at anyone and thought, "she shouldn't wear that because she's [x] age."

 

This leads me to todays blog topic:

 

Today on FB, I clicked on an article entitled, "24 Things Women Should Stop Wearing After Age 30". 

 

Curiosity, along with the burning need to have a mindless moment to myself away from work, had me reading the silly thing.  One of the comments below the article said "whoever wrote this article is a fuddy duddy".  After finishing it, I agreed with that person.  Talk about being judgmental.

 

I can't remember everything on that list, only a few but the ones I agreed with are as follows:

 

1.)  Scrunchies (this was number 1 on the list).  Yea.  Pretty much.  Get rid of them ladies and join the hordes of us who wear the bands that magically disappear every few days or remain as a permanent bangle upon your wrist. 

 

2.)  Overalls (number 10 on the list).  Not unless you're a cute little 5 year old because after that, it's all down hill (okay, you can make it work till at least age 10).  Otherwise, grown women just shouldn't and it's a hideous no-no to me.

 

3.)  Mini Skirts (Number 11).  I get it.  I mean at this age (and I mean 40) keeping something to the imagination is key as well as hiding...that's real important.  Frankly, I don't want to see your cheeks all hanging out when you bend over *mental ew*

 

4.)  Furry Boots (Number 15).  Um...well yea.  I mean they're ugly to begin with and unless you're some anorexic Barbie doll (even in this instance it's just not necessary), you should skip them because they also make your feet sweat and stink.

 

So those are the ones I agreed with.  Notice how short that list is?

 

Here are the two that I highly disagreed with although the rest as well I objected to for being on the list:

 

1.)  Short Dresses (12 on the list).  Okay but why?  I get it, some women who shouldn't be wearing them do without regard to body type/shape.  But overall why not?  I mean if you know your bod, are comfortable with it, have bought something that flatters it and got legs like Tina Turner, then I say rock it.  What's age got to do with it anyhow?

 

2.)  Platform Flip Flops (3 on the list).  I absolutely disagree with this one mainly because I have a few pairs I bought from Victoria Secrets and I j'adore them!  And no, not because I think they're uber sexy or even that cool looking but because I'm short and regular flip flops actually can be quite uncomfy (the cheapies).  I look for the comfortable vs. my feet are in agony factor before considering what's age appropriate in footwear.

 

As I scrolled through the list, I just kept thinking, why does this person who wrote this article think it's okay to tell me what is appropriate to wear or not wear, anyhow?  Who are they to dictate such things?  Granted I may be taking this all a little personally however, I don't think I'm all that wrong.

 

Here's the thing.  I'm 42.  I'm not a half bad looking 42 either.  I have yet to experience that instance where someone has been able to successfully guess my age.  I'm lucky that way and thank my parents for this little blessing.  I also am very, very conscious of my body and what it can and cannot pull off.  I don't go to the store, look at something and think, 'sure I'll do that' without giving serious consideration to how I will look from all angles.  And to me? I pick things according to my personal style, not my age.  It so happens that I like the conservative look (with a slight edge) but that doesn't mean that someone has the right to tell me that I can't wear sparkly pants outside of New Years Eve.  That's just not okay with me.

 

And as I was perusing the list, I realized that for the most part, anything there (other than the short, short bootay shorts) can be paired with something else and give it a hipper less childish look.  Why in the world will I ever agree to some unknown person telling me that I shouldn't wear my graphic tee's?  What's wrong with them?  I don't just pick them up without having a reason.  They mean something for the most part, don't they?

 

There's also the blue eye shadow thing.  Sure, that one I get to a certain point if you're planning to carry it all the way up to your eyebrows but if not, if it's simply going onto the lid, then what the hell is wrong with a bit of color? Particularly if you have that perfect shade of eyes that are enhanced by it?  I mean seriously! 

 

As for the mismatched socks...well I'm speechless with this one.  Why the hell is it anyone's business what I wear on my feet, specifically within my shoes?  Who has so little life that they would even bother to take the time to work up indignation over something as trivial and fun as this?  Oh, and then the hoop earrings...pfft.  Whatever...so not going to even address that one.

 

Okay, I'm going to calm down.  Honestly though, there are a few on the list (aside from the ones I mentioned above) that I do slightly agree with but not due to age, rather because of the shape of the wearers body.  I'm not saying a big woman shouldn't Vaseline herself into a pair of low rise skinny jeans.  If she's confident and aware, than go her!  But I would hope that she can take stock in the reality of her physique and be able to determine if that this particular article of clothing would actually flatter her or distract from her natural beauty. 

 

I don't give a damn about what age you are is my point of view (not that many of you may care anyhow but this is my blog so suck it up, Cupcake).  Wear what you feel comfortable in.  Who cares what others think?  And who gave these idiots who write these equally idiotic articles the right to judge anyhow?  Why are they the authority over fashion do's and don'ts?  Do they have some fashion diploma?  Have they spoken to every single blasted female on the face of the earth to get some sort of consensus before writing such trash?  If not, then leave it alone, is what I say.

 

Let people be.  We, as a race, have enough crap on our plates to deal with.  Don't tell me I can't wear a certain hat because it's not in my age group.  Screw you.

 

If a person wants to strut around in old sneaks, then okie dokie.  How does the writer of that article know that the person wearing this particular sort of footwear can afford new ones, anyhow?  Or that they have some sentimental value?  I swear it's like these authors cannot think outside of the goddamn box to save their lives and never mind empathy, sympathy...

 

Okay...I'll stop.  I have no idea why I'm getting so worked up over such a lame article.

 

Final thoughts:

 

So if you want to wear your jeans up to just under your armpit?  Do it!

If you really love to wear socks with sandals, go little Cricket.

Want to rock the plaid and stripes look?  Why the hell not, it's you're world, we're just living in it.

Whale tail and plumbers crack...mmm, K, you may make someone cringe in horror but oh well...

 

I guess the fact is that the older I get, the less judgmental I've become and I don't think that's a bad thing because I have no interest in anyone judging me.  If they do, all I'm liable to do in return is tell them to not worry about me because I'm not their business anyhow.  And if in the case of those who care to ask me my opinion about how they look in a certain outfit/item, I will be honest with them and I will never say 'you're too old for that' but rather 'you know how you don't like [whatever] about your body?  Well that highlights it, so put it back on the hanger...'

 

Enough said on this.

 

Post Germany Blues and Thoughts

So it's been a few days since I arrived home.  I am elbow deep in work and was shocked to the core when I saw how much pending projects had stacked up even though I had been meticulous in cleaning out the 'to-do' list before leaving.  I had to sigh heavily on Friday morning as I gazed at all the correspondences.  And thank God that I had such amazing colleagues who toats had my back while I was away.  Never mind that them biatches shoved everything back to me in two hot shakes of a tail feather as soon as I walked through the door, I'm just blessed to have them to rely on :P

But on a serious note, it is nice to have folks that I can 100% rely on to have my back.  This is something I've found at the place I work and it's refreshing.  In my previous work life I often was left to blow around at the mercy of whatever typhoon was headed my way.  Sure, I was also back then super lucky to have had colleagues who would jump in whenever they could but their time was as much of a commodity as mine and we were far more at the mercy of the expectations of the partners who we supported.  Not everyone was understanding that you were on vacation or that you wouldn't necessarily be looking at your handheld and responding at the drop of a hat.  In fact, for the most part it was an assumed so if you're butt was basking up the rays of some Caribbean sun?  Well you best have wifi.  Now you know why I left the law firm life.  Just sayin'...

 

Back to the blues.  Here's a confession:  I've been totally unmotivated.  Maybe that's not such a shocking one at that.  I mean who isn't after they've returned from vaca, right?  But today is Tuesday and focus is far off in the distance.  I can't seem to catch up with it no matter how fast I try to sprint.  Fact is that even in my thoughts I'm just not a runner.  And worst of all, every evening I sit around thinking about what I was doing at this time last week with S and blah, blah, blah.

Even the Korean drama's hold no appeal anymore. I know, shocking, right?  That's how deep this pain is. Mhmm...

 

Oh wait, have I mentioned that before leaving I was big time into Korean drama's on Netflix?  When I confessed this to a few friends, they looked at me as if I had lost my mind.  But watch one and you would understand.  S understands.  She in fact, and no shocker here at all, watches them also, but in Germany and not on Netflix.  We are such twins.

 

I was texting with her this morning and she told me that M, after reading something between us on FB, said that we were crazy and so similar.  I wholeheartedly agree.  She's the white version of the brown me.  Or maybe I'm the white version of the brown her?  Whatever it is, we are twinsies living 4,500 miles apart.  So wrong. 

 

But back to the problems here at work. 

 

I've recently been graced with a third Director to work with.  She is a little high maintenance and this new 'relationship' should be interesting.  I'm seriously giving thoughts to changing professions (again) and possibly looking to be a test crash dummy.  That sounds like a viable option, right?

Nah, it's not that bad but I'm underwater and totally overwhelmed with all the new things dropped onto my plate.  The transitioning of her into my world began the week before I left for Germany.  I had shoved all thoughts of it out of my head completely while there, refusing to give into pondering over something that I didn't need to deal with in the immediate but reality kicked me upside the head once home.

In fact I started this blog yesterday and now its...well today, Wednesday.  And I nearly got indigestion thanks to work.  How did this happen?  Well I decided to sit outside and have lunch, even ordered myself a turkey burger which I was eating at my leisure while playing Bubble Witch Saga (total new obsession).  I was about 1/3rd into it when a meeting reminder popped up onto my phone.  Damn it.  Luckily the waiter is someone I know since I frequent that place and he was quick to give me my check as well as insisted that he wrap my barely consumed food so that just 'in case' I got hungry later.  Oh how this young man doesn't know me.  There is no such thing and once my appetite is shot, it's shot.  No getting it back.

Anyhow, I've barely had enough time to type out those few sentences.  I'm tired, sleepy and irritated.  Nothing is amusing me right now and I really, really want to book a ticket either back to Germany or somewhere else that's far away from where I am presently.  So sad, right?

Here are a few thoughts I want to share which have been birthed since coming back from this trip:

1.)  I like traveling alone.  That doesn't mean always but there is a certain freedom that I enjoy which is undeniable.  The ability to go where you want at your own pace and without answering to anyone is very freeing.  I may do it again.

2.)  We are all the same.  I said it in the prior blog but I emphasis it here as well.  No matter how far you roam, although the cultures and traditions may differ, humanity?  The same.

3.)  I need to take vacation.  This seems like such a simple one, right?  Everyone should know this yet not everyone follows.  In my professional past I've gone through years without indulging and that's plain ol' stupid.  I don't know about anyone else but I at least need the mental break as well as a release from the daily routine.  I have every intention of taking more vacations in the near future, not allowing them to lapse.  I owe this to myself.

4.)  Falling in love with a place you've never been is so easy.  And it is.  I loved/love Germany.  I wish I could say that for Turkey as well but oh well...I was able to create a long lasting love affair with a country and it's people and I'm okay with that.  Will I go back again?  Yes, as long as S is there, otherwise I would be happy with visiting other parts of the world as well and cheating on Germany : ) 

5.)  Home is truly where you hang your hat.  By this I don't mean simply my house here in the States but even S's beautiful, intimate little pad 4,500 miles away.  It's not about where your things are, it's about who is there to share those things with you or who smiles at you and chases you around with vitamins because that's how much they love you.

I'm sure I'll have more thoughts as I settle back into my 'normal' life.  I feel as if I've allowed so many things to slip by, responsibilities and such, because I have so little to no motivation.  I really need to get it together.

Wish me luck :(