Life's like that

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Role Models and all that;)

This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 7

No, I am not talking about Role Models, the movie dammit! Although, I really did like the movie.;)
But we are here to talk about more "serious" stuff. You know things like who inspired you, what in them inspired you and what became of you as a result..such and such. Hopefully I won't bore you. But as always I have little nuggets of events revolving around that, so it shouldn't put to sleep:)

Now, I can't pin down on one role model. I think I am just as wavering in real life. I liked a whole bunch of people as I grew up, haha.

The first one I remember was at, you guessed it, school! I did really really bad at Math and Hindi (India's official language) as subjects so I avoided them like the plague. I understood, appreciated and built my entire primary school life around English and Literature. Ya, I know. Genius kid I was. But all that was for one reason. To impress my beautiful looking personable and charming English teacher at school. Sophie was her name. OMG, I would do anything to impress her. I somehow felt if I grew up I should be like her. I would secretly read and re-read and re-re-read all the chapters from my English textbook weeks ahead so I could impress her. She was impressed with me too. I was quite the charmer, eh? I took pride in my highest marks on English, only the Math and Hindi screwed me over and over. My report card would read
English - 99/100
Math - 34/100
Hindi - 16/100

And I would sob over...you guessed it right...that 1 mark I missed before I hit 100. *Sob*

My dad never understood my obsession with English. I never told him till date it was because of Sophie. LOL. He always thought he seemed to have inspired that in me. BS.

Anyway, so a day came when the whole world around me shattered. Apparently, Sophie HATED my handwriting. That day she had given up on me. She called me straight to her desk and almost said that she couldn't take it anymore. That's not what she said, but I could read her eyes. She apparently had a tough time reading through all my wonderfully scripted answers on the exam answer sheet. She knew I was solid on the English but my handwriting gave her sleepless nights. I was too young to remember her exact words but that day I broke into pieces. But...I thought I was THE BEST at English! And all she told me was I would go nowhere if I did not make an effort to learn how to write legibly.

I was in tears. I sobbed whole night. I refused to eat and locked myself in my room. My dad was a little worried. By nature I was a rather fierce kid. Rebelling and fighting and devil-may-care attitude was more my style. Not the weepy, lonely, loser kid. And I spoke very little (that was a biggie, because I was quite a talkative kid too). Anyway, I silently saved up money to buy those handwriting practice books (you know with whole lot of rules so you could get those perfectly shaped ABCD's). I was too proud a kid to ask for extra money for this. I quit buying silly truck toys (I loved trucks and airplanes as a kid and hated barbies. LOL). I shut myself up everyday for hours getting the perfect cursive handwriting. I would stick my forefinger between each word, because Sophie told me I NEVER put spaces between words and that's why it sucked. (I remember this part because my fingers ached and my head ached out of boredom repeating this drudgery of sticking my finger between every word till I didn't require to do that)

Anyhow, it was months before I emerged victorious. The day I got 100 was when Sophie said I had the best handwriting and she gave me +2 for best handwriting (Thinking of that now, how silly it seems 102/100, haha)
Woot woot!

Oh shoot, wasn't this about role models or something. I guess I just got carried away.

I really keep jumping from one role model to another all my life. But seriously, as narcissist as it sounds, I would give anything to be THAT rebel of a kid I was. Maybe that is what I miss today. I think I would want to make my "kid self" as my role model today.

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This post was a result of Chamindra aka Disease challenging me to this prompt:
"Tell Us About your Role Model and the Reasons Behind Your Choice"

So hoping I did a good job, I will go right ahead and eat a tiny portion of half-baked frozen yogurt I got today, temptations not withstanding;) Oh, before that, I happened to challenge Joelyn with this prompt:
"Imagine you get locked down in a library for a night, what would you do?"

Read about her adventure here

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Of Cherry Blossoms and Macarons!

This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 6
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Something about the macarons screamed sandwich to me the day I was first introduced to them.
When I first saw those tiny creations of art, I blurted out "That's like Klondke but with pretty colors!"
My friend's face hung in shame. She swore I knew nothing about macarons and I should shut up. Of course, I didn't know anything abt them! That is the first time I saw. I was fascinated by the colors - pink, light green, brown, lavendar - than it's taste. And then another faux pas.

"But I though they are supposed to have browned coconut flakes over them, no?", obviously confusing a macaron for a macaroon. My friend decided she had enough of my macaron blasphemy (she is a big big macaron fan). Of course, I have to tell you they are one of the smoothest silkiest creations that melt in your mouth. I have since dreamed of cooking them, but have been discouraged. It is supposed to be hard I am told. Close to impossible. But after looking at this recipe and pictures I will say "It is worth the effort". I am macaron inspired right now. Haha.

What made the pictures even more appealing were the cherry blossoms...
Cherry Blossoms are another of those things I got introduced to after I moved to US.
I recently had been to a Cherry Blossom Festival at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. The Cherry Esplanade was nothing short of epic.

Plus all the cherry blossomy smell in the cool air was such a bliss. So seeing Cherry Blossoms associated with Macarons was almost like adrenaline rush (no kidding!) when I bumped into this recipe page. I have always struggled making meringue so I understand when people tell it is tough to make these babies.

Meanwhile my cherry blossom inspired smile =)

This week's challenge came from Karla V and the prompt was:
Canelle et Vanille (http://cannelle-vanille.blogspot.com/) is one of my favorite food blogs. Since you seem to share my love of good food, pick a recipe from that site and craft your own narrative surrounding the pictures and the food. Don't forget to provide a link to that recipe in your post.

Thanks Karla for customizing a prompt based on my interest for cooking!:) That definitely didn't feel like a narrative but I was short on time (and all those excuses;). I promise to enhance this post pretty soon.

I challenged Lilu to :
Sometimes we are not aware of our surroundings as much as we should be. We use the phone, listen to music, read a book and so on...but fail to notice some really simple pleasures around us. Write about the different things you noticed today. Yes, there has to be something different you will see otherwise you are not looking enough;)
See Lilu's response here which I haven't read yet! Reading right now...

Monday, June 13, 2011

Yes, you can do it!

Read the full entry at the Right Brain Terrain Manifesto

Saturday, June 11, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 11 - Fear

If there is one thing that can give us freedom from fear, what do you think that one thing is?

I pondered on that question for a quite a long while now. In subways. In offices. In restrooms. In supermarkets. In bookstores. In restaurants. In musuems. In parks. In my bedroom. Nothing struck me. Then it occurred to me today, out of the blue. And this is the thing:

By learning to love and own your imperfections, you will have no fear

So here is the deal. Will jumping off a cliff (its called bungee jumping in the modern ages;)), skydiving or adventure sports of any kind give you this freedom. Maybe a bit. You will now have done something that you "thought" you could never do. But the ultimate escape from fear is learning to love yourself. As cliched as it sounds, it is the THE most important change that we can make in life. Yet in even acknowledging your imperfections there is fear! Funny how that works no?
So why are we doing this to ourselves? Hurting ourselves and worrying sick with lumps in our throats and knots in our stomach over things that don't really matter? I am not saying i you fear snakes, go dive into a snake pit without thought. All I am saying is this fear, this resistance is stopping you from being awesome.

Take this for example. I am in a room with a large audience with reputable people and world renowned author at the podium on the stage. Once she finished speaking, she opens the floor for questions. I have a question to ask. What is the first thing that comes to my mind?

- Did I phrase my question appropriately?
- Would she be offended by what I ask?
- Will I be able to ask her in a presentable voice and demeanor?
- What will other people in the audience think of me? *Cringe*

And the moment has passed. Someone else has asked a question and we are out of time.
OK, maybe my example is not that great. But you get the point. Overthinking led to resistance which led to fear. Now i will never be able to ask that question to her face-to-face. So was shutting down and going blank worth it? NO! Yet, we do this every single day for the simplest of things.

Now, sit down and write answers to these questions:

Is the insecurity you’re defending worth the dream you’ll never realize? or the love you’ll never venture? or the joy you’ll never feel?

No, not even close to worth. In fact this will turn into deep regret that I haven't even given it a shot for the fear of failing badly in it. Learning from failures and mistakes is what makes humans invincible.

Will the blunder matter in 10 years? Or 10 weeks? Or 10 days? Or 10 minutes?
Maybe 10 mins. Human memory is short. We forget our blunders as soon as the next one happens.

Can you be happy being anything less than who you really are?
I can never be happy doing something that is not me, not what I stand for. Funny how humans are motivated - it is not money but our passions that drive happiness in us.

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This post is part of the #Trust30 Project. #Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge from TheDominoProject that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Learn more at RalphWaldoEmerson.me

These are the voices which we hear in solitude, but they grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world. Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members – Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Is fear holding you back from living your fullest life and being truly self expressed? Put yourself in the shoes of the you who’s already lived your dream and write out the answers to the following:

Is the insecurity you’re defending worth the dream you’ll never realize? or the love you’ll never venture? or the joy you’ll never feel?

Will the blunder matter in 10 years? Or 10 weeks? Or 10 days? Or 10 minutes?

Can you be happy being anything less than who you really are?
Now Do. The Thing. You Fear.
(Author: Lachlan Cotter)

Why work doesn't happen at work?

How many hours of uninterrupted work time do you get at office?
Why is it that getting even 1 hour of uninterrupted time at office such a rare sight?
So why cant we all just work from home or coffee shops or libraries or basements instead?
Does banning Facebook, Twitter etc. at work help your productivity? (Umm hello, we have all got smartphones now. Remember?)

The real problems are Managers and Meetings (M&M's)
In fact, the one day I work from home, I am free of distractions! Meetings are toxic. You will almost always only require a 5 min phone call to get something done - not a meeting. So a 1 hour meeting with 10 people actually wastes 10 hours of time.

Watch Jason Fried (I love this dude!) from 37Signals speak about the issues of working in brick and mortar places we call "office space", how it actually hurts our productivity because of M&M's and how can we remedy this.

PS: Extra points if you read his book Rework - a quick and dirty manifesto for entrepreneurs

Thursday, June 09, 2011

The Four-Story Jigsaw Puzzle

This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 5
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As a kid I was really a riot. Right now, I am one millionth of a rebel I used to be. Sigh.

I loved playing in mud and making mud structures, mud buildings (castles?), mud pies, mud toys(!!), mud bears (sort of like gummy bears), mud trucks (I had a thing for automobiles then), mud bricks (seriously?), mud cones, mud version of Jack Frost. Mud everything. In short, I was obsessed with mud. My mom worried so much about this mud of an obsession. Haha. I played in the mud till all sorts of gross boils started springing up all over my hands. Till date I have a small, tiny circle-ish patch near the knuckles of my left hand. As a sign of my epic muddy days.

I think those wounds got my mom sick with worry. My dad wasn't really bothered. He always said so long as I did not beat up some kid and get into trouble I was ok. He said, "You can beat. But if you get into trouble, don't expect me to come to any of those dreadfully boring Parent Teacher things with ugly teachers." Till date, he's never been to one so I am not sure how he assumed that 1) They were boring and 2) They had ugly teachers in my school.

I remember vividly when I built this absurd structure in mud, with great finesse. I prided in the right proportions of water I used, the best tools I used to give it a shape (apparently my lunch box and spoons to scoop up mud) and that I did it after class while all other "stupid" kids (how obnoxious could I get? haha) would play "chor police" in the ground. I don't remember what exactly happened then. I have no dramatic story attached to it - except that oddly I remember my dad had come to school to pick me up after that and the first thing he asked me was "Where the heck is the Diary Milk I gave you this morning?". I remember this maybe because in my mud obsessive life, a chocolate or candy had no place. I apparently forgot the chocolate in the deep realms of my backpack, melted by the scorching sun. My dad's reaction was a bit ballistic to my taste. He swore he was never buying me a Dairy Milk again. Through the entire ride home on his moped he kept swearing and swearing while I took delight in how many new swear words I was learning at the time. Once we reached home, he shoved it in the freezer and told me "Now you eat it like you would have ate it normally. Not now. Once that thing gets solid. Don't you ever leave a chocolate lying around like that". I think he had something nagging him about the Diary Milk. But I never asked. And he never got me a chocolate again. I didn't particularly care, since I never really loved chocolates/candies.

Ah, well, so much for the mud story.

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My challenge came from WideLawns this week and the prompt was:

"Find the title of a news article from anywhere, any time. Use that as the title (metaphorically) of a personal essay about an event or events in your own life. Link back to the original article with the same title for fun."

Sorry, this post was very last minute and just about 15 mins ago I was reading this news article on New York Times and instantly remembered a part of my childhood :-) There is no jigsaw puzzle piece to my story, I think the "four-story" triggered my only childhood memory of building something.

The Internet is my religion

Gotta watch this video. It will be the best 10 minutes of your life today (unless of course you are chilling somewhere in the Carribean with a billion dollars in your overseas account. Even then!)

So this dude fought cancer twice, juggled a couple of startups and went on to become a media activist. He speaks about how Internet became his GOD. No, really! Awesome. Inspiring. Stuff. Read Jim Gilliam's blog Make The Future

Quoting him from the video:
"God is what happens when humanity gets connected. Humanity connected is God"

And now the video...

Tuesday, June 07, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 8 - Five Years

Hey there Manju, five years ago!

You were pretty solid at your work but kept getting restless. You thought, heck I should do Masters. It will be a good deal to add to your resume. Maybe meet some awesome people on the way. So you went through trouble to apply and make decisions. Decisions you thought you would never regret - but you did. And life went on. You were in your early twenties then. Still figuring out stuff for yourself. Naive but bold and excited about days to come. And slowly you got sucked into a spiral of boredom, routine and all those man-made reasons that make you lazy, tame and unwilling to try something new. You took things for granted. You took respite in the status quo. You thought to yourself, "I am just about average. There is nothing much I can do"

Hey there Manju, five years from now (into the future)

You are shaking up things now. You look at yourself and raise your brow like Barney Stinson and say "I am awesome and legend-wait-for-it-ary". You take every opportunity that comes your way and turn it into gold. You think, "What the heck. Lets do it". You are now the CEO of your own world. You have trekked to the Himalayas, written a book, started a food establishment, married your prince charming, built the fastest, ultra low latency, highly scalable and revolutionary data crunching platform in the world. Hahaha. In short you are knocking the socks out of life. Congrats, you got from suck to non-suck.

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This post is part of the #Trust30 Project. #Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge from TheDominoProject that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Learn more at RalphWaldoEmerson.me

Today's prompt:

There will be an agreement in whatever variety of actions, so they be each honest and natural in their hour. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

What would you say to the person you were five years ago? What will you say to the person you’ll be in five years?

(Author: Corbett Barr)

Sunday, June 05, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 6 - Come Alive

Pic courtesy: Sid at The Imaginarium

To-do list is OUT. To-stop list is IN
So here it goes, my To-stop list:

- Fretting over my imperfections
Yes. It is funny how it works. The moment you stop hating your imperfections and comparing yourself with others you take off in a big way

- Ignoring my strengths and picking on my weaknesses
You know how people tell you your weaknesses are in fact opportunities for growth. Your BS alarm should ring at this point. That fluff is solely intended for your annual performance review at work. Not in real life. So kick that off and move ahead. You are here because of your strengths and the world needs you for them.

- Not doing something because people will tell me so
People always have something to say. If they think what you are doing right now is crazy, then you know you are heading in the right direction. Go for it.

- I will wait for the right time
Yes, you can wait for the right time. But you just lost the "time" in the "right time". There is never a better time to do something than NOW.

- But I don't know anything
So how did you learn to eat, walk, talk and dream? By doing. Doing is knowing. Just do it.

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Today's prompt:
Life wastes itself while we are preparing to live. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you had one week left to live, would you still be doing what you’re doing now? In what areas of your life are you preparing to live? Take them off your To Do list and add them to a To Stop list. Resolve to only do what makes you come alive.

Bonus: How can your goals improve the present and not keep you in a perpetual “always something better” spiral?

(Author: Jonathan Mead)

L.I.F.E Poster

Came across this on holstee.com

Don't you just love it? :-)

Saturday, June 04, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 5 - Travel

Everest base camp - that is where I want to go and check it off my list before I die. Majestic, breathtaking and an experience to die for. I already follow blogs of people who have made it there. Plus A knows a guy who trekked to this place. I want to take the arduous route to the base camp.This is what I want to do. This is where I will be in 2012.

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Today's prompt:

If we live truly, we shall see truly. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Not everyone wants to travel the world, but most people can identify at least one place in the world they’d like to visit before they die. Where is that place for you, and what will you do to make sure you get there?

(Author: Chris Guillebeau)

Friday, June 03, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 4: Post-it Question

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Today's prompt:

That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. Where is the master who could have taught Shakespeare? Where is the master who could have instructed Franklin, or Washington, or Bacon, or Newton? . . . Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare. Do that which is assigned you, and you cannot hope too much or dare too much. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Identify one of your biggest challenges at the moment (ie I don’t feel passionate about my work) and turn it into a question (ie How can I do work I’m passionate about?) Write it on a post-it and put it up on your bathroom mirror or the back of your front door. After 48-hours, journal what answers came up for you and be sure to evaluate them.

Bonus: tweet or blog a photo of your post-it.

(Author: Jenny Blake)

Thursday, June 02, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 3 - One strong belief

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry

You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you

Tell you I need you

Tell you I set you apart

Those lyrics from 'The Scientist' by Coldplay reminds me the strong belief I have in love.
If somebody told me a decade back about love, I would have brushed it aside as 'cheesy'
But now I believe it has become a way of life. I believe it will be the same for you once you find that love and grab it and hold on to it.
That could be anything. Your soulmate. Your art. Your work. Your friend. Your kid. Your mom...
I believe that this strong belief has opened up new doors in life. Since finding that one person who has changed it all, I think I have become more passionate now. I feel more inspired everyday I talk and share my happiness and sadness with him. I believe in myself more. It has only made me better. I believe I can shine by being me. Because he makes me believe I am awesome.

Who says you can't have it all when having that one person means that you have it all :-)

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Today's prompt:

It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

The world is powered by passionate people, powerful ideas, and fearless action. What’s one strong belief you possess that isn’t shared by your closest friends or family? What inspires this belief, and what have you done to actively live it?

(Author: Buster Benson)

Wednesday, June 01, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 2 - Today

This post is part of the #Trust30 Project. #Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge from TheDominoProject that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Learn more at RalphWaldoEmerson.me

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Got rid of an 18 month old frustration, that was totally under my control all the time, but I hated to acknowledge the problem and do something about it, until today.

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Today's prompt:

Your genuine action will explain itself, and will explain your other genuine actions. Your conformity explains nothing. The force of character is cumulative. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

If ‘the voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks,’ then it is more genuine to be present today than to recount yesterdays. How would you describe today using only one sentence? Tell today’s sentence to one other person. Repeat each day.

(Author: Liz Danzico)

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

#Trust30 | Day 1 - Fifteen minutes to live

This post is part of the #Trust30 Project. #Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge from TheDominoProject that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Learn more at RalphWaldoEmerson.me

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I have always been afraid to find the potential in me. Self-doubt is the greatest enemy in my life.
So given these fifteen minutes, I want to do something that destroys this self-doubt. What could I do in 15 mins you ask? I know the one thing that will give me freedom from self-doubt and that is "to let it go".

Let go of the doubt in me that I will possibly under perform at something
Let go of the awkwardness when it comes to admitting I don't know something
Let go of the fears - fear of losing someone I love, fear of failing at something really really bad, fear of speaking truth even if it means that I will break someone's heart
Let go of the moments that made me look shameful and embarrassed and humiliated
Let go of the constant urge to prove my self to others. Why? Why do you care?
Let go of the comparisons I draw with other people. I am unique. I can create a parallel world if I want.
Let go of all the inhibitions and be what I used to be when I was a little child. Selfless. Inquisitive. Happy. Smiling. Rebellious. Passionate. Fearless. Awesome.

Thank you Mom, Dad and A.

If I live beyond the hypothetical fifteen minutes, I will print the above in a poster format and hang it up my wall.
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Today's prompt:

We are afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death, and afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect persons. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live.

1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.

2. Write the story that has to be written.

(Author: Gwen Bell)

Monday, May 30, 2011

What do you want from me?

This is my entry for Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 4
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She flipped through her journal and sighed as she realized her entries over the past month sounded so unhappy. Whenever she felt low, she found respite in her diary - a journal of her 20 years of life so far. She fondly mused at her maturity over the years. She wished she could show it as a proof of her maturity to her parents who still treated her a child. But the journal was too precious to be revealed. She suddenly felt vulnerable at the thought of someone bumping into her diary. She pushed aside bad thoughts instantly and flipped back to the pages she knew had happy entries.

"Oh this one...", she giggled to herself when she came across an entry titled "The day I punched the douchebag in his face". She read it out (probably for the 50th time now), softly so no one could hear, although she was the only one sitting by her apartment window.

1991, May 26

Title: The day I punched the douchebag in his face

...I wonder why he is so mean to us. Why would a boy throw stones at girls, hiding behind the big rock at the playground. I know why. He is a douchebag. I told Miss. Carter about him. She never listens to me. She asks me to finish my assignment instead and stop complaining. "Dont whine Katy". That's what she tells me. Always. God, if you grant me a wish, I will ask you to send an army of tarantulas to her bedroom. Miss. Carter hates spiders. I would like to see if she whines then. Haha. I dont know how I did it today. I couldn't take it anymore, watching that douchebad of a boy hurling bigger pebbles now at Sarah and Martha.

Papa always told me I shouldn't fear anything except God. And he is not God. He is a douchebag. I still remember when I came crying to Papa one day and told him how the boy hurt us, over dinner. He looked straight in my eye and said "And what do you expect me to do? Talk to your teacher and get him caned? Is that how you you are going to get your self-respect back? If you got self-respect, you defend it. Your Miss. Carter is right. Stop whining". After that night, I planned every moment of my life on how to fight back for my self respect...

So today when he tried to hit us with stones, we cornered him at his hiding place. He didn't seem to be scared. Until, I showed him his priced collection of baseball cards that he kept in an old tin box. In the other hand I held a cigarette lighter that I stole from Papa's coat pocket. I put on the most spiteful face I could and said "You stop this stoning and I will spare your treasure. Or I will burn them." He didn't know I could never get the lighter on. It never worked. But I kept my threatening face intact. I saw his face go pale but he recovered quickly.

"I will complain to Miss. Carter", he warned.

"Oh yeah? Miss. Carter is on vacation and I will burn your cards anyway. She can do nothing about it.", I scowled back.

By now a big crowd of boys and girls had gathered around me. The girls started to cheer for me. The boys, being stupid boys that they are, stayed neutral. He felt awkward suddenly. He suddenly moved towards me and tried to pry the tin box from me. I resisted.

"Fine. Give it to me and I will spare you girls", he grunted.

I don't know what had happened. I think it was the word spare that drove me crazy. I instantly drew all the strength I could muster and punched him in his face with that tin box. He fell down with a loud thud and I heard him say "Bitchhhhhhhhhhh.....", but not for long. I was down on him and clawing his face with my nails.
I think I kept punching him and ripping his shirt apart until the Coach had pulled me away from him while I flapped my knees in the air...."

She stopped reading and laughed so hard that Becca, her dog who was sound asleep woke up and peered at her with its round eyes. "Go back to sleep Becks!", she said, stealing a few gaps from her laugh.

She thought, how can she be upset over her encounter today with her angry boss. She had mindlessly started an entry an hour ago in her diary....

2011, May 26

Title: What do you want from me?

I can't believe he told today what I think he told. He called me a loser. He said I was incapable of judgement. That I was a liability to the firm. All because I did not suck up to the wealthy client and make a decision that favored the firm over my integrity. How could he speak those harsh words after all the months of hard work and dedication? I am so hurt. I am so depressed. I wish I never lived to see this life.

Even though it wasn't my fault, I had knocked on his door in the noon to apologize. He looked up at me and yelled "What do you want from me?"

That's where she had stopped her entry. She took her pen and continued...

"What do I want? A little self-respect you douchebag!
SCREW YOU MR. ADLER.

Reference: "The day I punched the douchebag in his face", dated May 26, 1991."

She shut her journal, emailed her resignation letter to Mr. Adler and kissed Becca good night.

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My challenge came from Michael Webb this week. I initially wanted to write a dialog between an adolescent kid and a parent. But then I tried to think through my childhood for inspiration ;-) And this incident, ladies and gentleman, happened for real, haha. Of course, names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved, ahem. *Grin*
So Michael and others who stopped by to read this entry - "Hope you liked it!"

My challenge went to Sir this week. My challenge reads as: "If there was one thing you would like to change in your childhood life, what would you change and why?"
I am just curious to see what others would like to change in their childhood, given a chance. So the weird topic :-)

Monday, May 23, 2011

Why I hated Mickey Mouse..

This post is in reply to this week's Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 3

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She woke up all groggy. It felt like a weekend morning. Sort of like the time when she wanted to pull the sheets on her and go back to sleep. Only that she saw what she assumed was a Mickey Mouse standing right in front of her. Wait is that Minnie? Or Mickey Mouse? She rubbed her eyes a little unwillingly. She always thought rubbing her eyes made her sleep escape instantly. But she wanted to make sure that WASN'T Mickey Mouse. Because of a freak childhood incident, Mickey Mouse always gave her the creeps.

She rubbed her eyes twice. Sleep had long eluded her now. Instead shock had taken over. Wait. "Is this a joke?", she thought aloud. "What the....", she heard her abusive word fade away as shock took over again.

"You are a freaking mouseeeee", she heard herself shriek.

It was then that she realized. Except that it wasn't her bed that she was sleeping on. This wasn't her bedroom. Wait, what are these loose white clothes I am wearing and what's this arm band?

"You are in the World's most friendly and fun hospital!", said Mickey.

"What the...", she said. This must be her nightmare. She always knew that childhood incident was going to haunt her back. But she hadn't expected it now. Not after last night.

Slowly the reality dawned. Last night. Candle light dinner. The daisies. Romantic walk on the pavement. That important phone call. Her rushed exit after that. And then the car heading right at her at a breakneck speed. Blackout.

"Where...where am I? And why isn't anyone I know here? Why are you here? I hate you. Go away!", she yelled at Mickey.

"Everyone loves magic. That's why I am here!", said Mickey.

"You and your stupid bow. You are nothing but a stupid little mouse", she said. No sooner than 5 secs had passed after she uttered those words when she felt taken aback at her own despise for Mickey. Where did all that hatred come from? If only THAT Mickey Mouse had behaved during her Orlando trip as a kid...She tried to mask her complex feelings as Mickey kept smiling and waving a wand...

"Great, so you think you are a magician? Well genius, then tell me why I am here listening to you when my family and friends should be here!", she yelled.

She felt a sharp tab at her neck suddenly but she kept yelling at Mickey.

"Wait you aren't supposed to speak, are you? I don't remember you speaking in real life. Err..I mean movies..."

"Hot Dogs! Hot Dogs!", said Mickey

"Ehh, what?", she said.

"Those were my first spoken words on TV!", Mickey laughed. "I met Alex today. Do you remember Alex?"

"Alex who? I don't know any Alex", she said looking in disgust. Her head was throbbing now.

"Tch tch. You must be in pain. Wait, have some hot tea", said Mickey as he waved his wand and there was hot piping tea cup on the table beside.

"Wowwww. Wait. You must have tricked me. Where did you get that tea from?", she said

"From the magicland! Alex wanted me to give this to you."

Alex...Alex the kid she taught at school. Whose parents were separated. And he was put up at a foster home since none of then wanted his custody. That poor kid.

"He's a bright kid you know", she said now slurping some tea. The tea seemed to work and her head slowly seemed to settle. "Hey but how do you know Alex?", she asked.

"You like Alex among all the kids in your class. Why?", asked Mickey instead of answering her.

"Umm..I don't know. I guess I like him because he's bright despite all the hard luck he has. I guess he's the only kid who never whines. Although he's the one who has all the reasons to whine..."

"Yes and no. Because you had a friend like Alex when you were a kid yourself."

"Heyyyyy...why are we talking about this? And wait, I am looking for my family and..."

"You hate me because I hurt Austin. Austin was just like Alex. You both always played together in the tree house, at nights, when he would run away from home and guys would play backgammon...all night.."

"...till the sun rise", she choked. Suddenly her eyes welled up.

"He loved Mickey Mouse. He loved you. So much. And you hurt him! How could you do that to him? How could you?"

Mickey waved his wand and she suddenly saw her childhood play in front of her, in a crystal ball. That day at Orlando, when they had finally arrived at Disneyland. Austin was so fascinated and happy and clapping his hands at every sight of Mickey. Until the unexpected happened. She had gone away to buy some ice cream when Austin came running to her. His blood had drained from the face. His palms sweaty. "Run Kristy run!", he shouted..

She took his word and ran. And they never came back. Again. Never.

It took days before Austin confided to her about what had happened. All he said was he saw Mickey Mouse eat a young kid! "Mickey had a kid for his lunch Kristy. He eats humans!"

But now she saw what had really happened in that crystal ball. The man with the Mickey Mouse suit was hungry standing and entertaining the kids the whole day. Disneyland apparently had some kind of "Make the biggest gingerbread man contest" that day. And guess who ate the foot-sized head of the gingerbread. Mickey Mouse. Or rather the man under the suit.

She burst into laughter, holding her tummy and burying her head into the sheets. "Wait till I tell this to Austin", she said as she lifted her head back.

Only that Mickey was gone. And the hospital attendant was looking down at her, puzzled.

"You need some rest now. Also your family will be here in some time. They were here all night, last night. Here are some flowers a gentleman left for you..", he said as he pulled the window blinds and arranged the daisies by the window sill.

"Wait, Austin would never believe this, would he?", she thought. She switched on the TV and watched Mickey on the Disney Channel, smiling to herself.

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My challenge came from transplantedx3 this week. I was challenged to "You were in a car accident. You (or your character) wake up in the hospital to find a man dressed as Mickey Mouse standing next to your bed."

Honestly, I was stumped by this topic. I NEVER watched a single Mickey Mouse cartoon in my life. And obviously I couldn't pass off being a Mickey Mouse afficianado. So I chose to start the story with a negative tone to it..

I challenged Karla V with "You can now hear people's thoughts aloud. What are you going to do?;)"
Waiting for her post! Excited to check her story out:)

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The Hurt Locker

This post is in reply to this week's Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 2
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I had woken up to a beautiful sun-kissed morning earlier that day. Life looked so promising.
I sang my way through the bathroom shower, had a long and relaxed breakfast, chose my wardrobe as if I was getting dressed for a prom. You get the point now. I took the time to smell the roses and all that good stuff. Until...this! This thing that threw me under the bus. Turned my life upside down. Got my life to a screeching halt. How can life get so painful all of a sudden?

It was predictable though. This had to happen. I had been living through this for 20 odd years. Hoping this was just a nightmare that would pass but alas, it came back to haunt me and give me grief. I loathed at my co-worker biting into a juicy sandwich and fresh espresso she picked up my favorite coffee place. Why God? Why me? Why only me? I turned my eyes away from her and tried to focus on the task at hand. But the nightmare dragged on. Thats it. I had to do this. Today. Now.
I cannot live like this any longer.

My co-worker swung by. I heard my manager congratulating her on something. She beamed and flashed her feasty smile, her perfect set of teeth shining through it. Damn it!

It was that instant, I picked my phone and made that call that was long due.

"Yes. This is an emergency", I spoke in a hushed tone.
"Sure. 4 pm is brilliant. Thanks.", I said as I headed back to my desk.

The next 3 hours were unbearable. Twitching. Arranging and re-arranging my papers on the desk. Constantly looking at the clock. Getting up for frequent bathroom visits. I saw my to-do lists on my desk and cringed. "If I live through this nightmare, I will never take these goddamn to-do lists seriously", I promised myself.

Clearly, I was dreading the moment. My nerves got the better of me.
The moment had arrived. I hadn't even planned on this. I hadn't even known this was coming earlier in the day. 4 pm struck. And the fateful moment had come. I was ready to go through hell...

I braced myself in the operating room. The doctor got out a gigantic looking syringe and poked me. At that moment I wished I was dead. I then saw metal pliers and other tools brandishing in front of me. And when the exact time had come I wimped out.

"Can I...can I get a break doc?", I choked in fear.
"Please..", I repeated myself.

The doctor's jaw hardened and then he shrugged. "OK, but make it quick. We need to work on this before the anesthesia wears out." He walked out frustrated.

I took a deep breath. I imagined blood and gore and pain. I tried to get rid of those images.
I sighed as I saw the doc walk back right in. It was hardly 5 mins, god damn it!

This time he seemed to move at a panther's pace, giving no attention to me.
How can he be so callous? I watched him and wished I was dead. I was about to yell in pain when in less than 30 secs he said "Busted! It's a freaking tooth for lord's sake. You are good to go now."

The next day I "victory walked" to work with two cups of fresh espresso and a gigantic sandwich, swinging right by my co-worker with a huge smile.

Wisdom tooth problem - Check.

And then I crumpled the list and threw it in the trash bin.
I logged onto twitter and tweeted "Life is good"

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My challenge came from Katri this week. I was challenged to "It was only going to end up hurting you, but you did it anyway." I enjoyed this topic so much, thanks Katri!
I challenged Jen O. with "She was fed up with everything! She instantly decided to lead a life of no regrets...(Continue the story)"
I am excited to check her reply:)

PS: The title has nothing to do with the topic except for the word "hurt", haha. I guess I just wanted to keep it foolish so I wouldn't give away the story with the title;)

Thursday, May 05, 2011

PS: Your Secret Admirer

This post is in reply to this week's Indie Ink Writing Challenge - Week 1

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I am not a die-hard romantic. In fact, I am too busy to notice anything around me. Until I bumped into you one day. The first thing I noticed about you was your generous smile. But let me tell you before you conclude this as a "cheesy" comment. That I have seen people smiling. So yes there is some credibility to my knowledge about "smiles". It was not the face, it was the eyes that smiled along, that drew me. You then did the most unbelievable thing I would imagine a grown-up adult would do. You climbed a tree! A freaking big tree! Unabashed. In fact you were wearing those teenager type of shoes. I don't know what they call them, those slippery sneakers? And you fought yourself to reach to the top while slipping along the way. You know I am talking about the carnival in the Valley don't you? Or do you climb trees, wherever you go?:) I was embarrassed for you when you kept falling down initially. But not once did you flinch or look ashamed. It looked like you didn't care about the world around you and the sole purpose of your existence was to climb this tree! I found it pretty amusing when I thought about this later. Each time you fell, you cursed. Of course, your friend was embarrassed. When you reached the top, you flexed your muscles for a picture. And as you looked below, to make your way down, I saw that terror spread all over your face. You were so scared and instantly you masked your fear with a smile again. The same smile. I wanted to wait longer, maybe even introduce myself to you, but I had to rush to conduct a workshop for children by the camp. By the way, you could learn a bit about ropes from me. I don't climb trees, but I do climb rocks!

I never met you again. Maybe I will meet you soon. Not a day went by without that day replaying in my mind. Did I tell your smile is pure genius? Oh I did tell that already?:) I am not even sure if this letter will reach you, because I am publishing this on my blog. This is my message in a bottle on the Internet...And I hope to God, that smile never vanishes.

PS: Your Secret Admirer

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My challenge came from Illogical Being this week.
I challenged Wendryn with "You stumbled into a time machine, what would you do?" and here is her reply. Very very different from what I would have wrote:)

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Its a woman thing!

I think its a woman thing....Read on to figure what I mean by that.

Late Saturday noon as I deep condition my hair with castor oil..I notice a whole bunch of hair falling on the floor. Like autumn. No kidding. One look at the mirror and my off-white home t-shirt seems to be sticking at my belly and giving it a pot shape. No kidding again.

Frustrated I come back and switch on the webcam and look at my boyfriend.

BF: Helloooooo
Me: (In my mean-est expression ever) Hi
BF: Whats up sweetie??
Me: Nothing
BF: So you done taking care of your hair?
Me: Ya

If there is one thing men should learn about women, it is this - if a women speaks in short syllables or one word, it means TROUBLE
BF: (Sensing something's wrong) Whats wrong?

Wow, he dived straight into it, didn't he? If it was a woman she would have cajoled me before asking whats wrong. Men always want straight up!

Me: Nothing
BF: Are you bored?
Me: (giving up) My hair's shedding...
BF: That's cause you worry too much
Me: (Heeding no attention to what he just spoke) I mean its FREAKING falling. What should I do?
BF: You should learn to take less stress
Me: (Exasperated by now) OK.
Me: (Continuing..) I dont get it. I do everything. Also look at my abs, there is no abs only flab. I have been working out in the damned gym for a year now. 1 WHOLE F****** YEAR. And no abs.
BF: You should worry less and take it easy.
Me: Oh so it's my fault?
BF: What? When did I say that?
Me: Fine, you should sleep now
BF: What??????
Me: Go to sleep now.
BF: You sure?
Me: Your wish
BF: Hmm ok
Me: Good night.
BF: Ok bye...
Me: (no reply)

10 mins later...my phone rings

BF: I am sorry
Me: (Aha!) Why?
BF: I make you upset for no reason. I shouldn't have said it was "your fault"

Realizing I have taken this too far. I told ya, its a woman thing.

Me: Hmmm
BF: I will google about what to do for your hair
Me: Ok now thats enough. Go to sleep please.
BF: Sure?
Me: Yes. And I am sorry too.
BF: Don't worry ok? Speak tomorrow then. Night!
Me: Ok, night.

By now you think I am the meanest...but hey its a woman thing you all. So suck it up men. We come with a high price. LOL.

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