Time to know the truth of life…

Somebody told me that my life is erratic, has crossed all limits of insanity and somewhere I will shock and scare myself if I look back at all the things that I have done and threatened the world to do (not that I regret it though!). I confess that I have a tendency to get into unimaginable situations and then my foot-in-da-mouth syndrome puts me into deep shit! But who cares… that’s me and always will be me…!

So guys its time you have to decide for me… yes the only time you get to decide my life… it’s a rare opportunity for sure… so go ahead and take the poll… lemme know your reviews on it then… have fun…

My Version of Cafe Gazing…

I take a sip of my cinnamon flavored latte. The sickly sweetness of the syrup offset by the rich bitterness of the dark espresso. Luckily my favorite chair, by the fireplace, is vacant. The ultra-suede still slightly imprinted with the shape of its last occupant. As I remove my gloves and toss my jacket carelessly across one of the arms, I catch the eye of one of the girls at the next table over. She gives me the quick smile of one stranger acknowledging another and continues chatting with her friend.

I tuck my feet up under myself and open my book. The guy beside me is engrossed in a copy of Shantaram. He casually sips his Styrofoam-encased coffee while idly turning a page. With a gust of cold air the door opens and a young girl joins him at his table. Her enthusiasm is a deep contrast to his relaxed demeanor. She tells him of her dance practice for the annual function of her college, her plans for her next years education including a semester abroad and maybe a wild trek in the summer, if she can find an internship first, to pay for all the incidentals. Her speech is peppered with interjections (such as “like”), making it hard to concentrate on the meaning of her sentences.

I smile and think of a recent conversation with a good friend, worrying about her vocabulary. “I need to work on my vernacular,” she laughed, “I mean, I still say “like” and I’m doing my masters in Sociology. Maybe I should enroll in English 0130.”

There’s a man typing away on his laptop, barely audible over the coffee house music, a pacifying blend of piano chords and string instruments. His glasses are neatly folded and placed on a book beside him. Every so often he gets up for a cigarette, for a refill, for a bathroom break. The intensity with which he is concentrating on his screen reminds me of my boss filling his financial reports and I imagine this man is doing the same.

A girl heaves into a chair across the room, sighing loudly as she places her text book down. I recognize her as the girl who made my latte. She works here a few days a week while she’s in University studying chemistry, economics or perhaps philosophy. The free coffee and quiet place to study almost make up for the endless parade of odd people she deals with on a daily basis.

I pull my gloves and jacket on, in preparation for the chill that awaits me outside. It’s not yet that cold though there’s the feeling of a crisp chill in the air. The quiet, brittle cold and lack of clouds almost guarantee the morning will bring the gloominess of a new sorrow. I adjust my jacket and step outside, the soft chords following me as I make my way up the street, back home.

Waiting for better days…

It can only get better” they say tritely
“Next year will be different”
“Things have to start looking up for you”

Every year I go through these bouts. These periods where my mind can’t stop thinking negatively. I want to curl in a ball on my couch and never leave the house. I don’t eat all day or I eat everything I can grab. I feel like crying but my eyes are selfish and hold the tears to themselves.

I wear pajamas from the moment I walk in the door and find excuses not to answer my phone. I watch TV but don’t really see anything. I can’t sleep so I try reading, I try sleeping pills, I try a bath. I try tea, I try writing, I try lying in bed thinking of nothing and everything. I try imagining somewhere hot, and listening to waves on a beach.

I am awake but my mind is confused. How did I end up here? Like this? Lonely, sad, unable to express myself and not understanding what it is that has brought me down so low. Some nights I might go have a drink at my very own Cheers with friends but this is a temporary distraction.

I wander around the museum for hours, wishing I could disappear into the paintings, into the sculptures and be a part of history instead of making my own. I wander around the library even longer – until the librarian announces the imminent closing – picking up books and flipping through the pages.

I read comedic memoirs which remind me all too well how mine would suffer in comparison. I read serious books about war and crimes against humanity. They say misery loves company. I read books about love, about pain, about reality. Sometimes I read a book so densely and intricately worded I have to reread paragraphs three times just to understand what is happening. These are my favorite of all; they take up the most time.

Once the cold goes away, once the grass returns, once the sun again has the starring role and not just a cameo, I’ll be okay. But for now, for now I’ll sit waiting.

My Shutterbug fantasies

Beads of hope

Beauty and the beast

Essentials

Birth

A splash of life

Divine intervention

Loneliness

Subpoenaed… Laugh! Laugh! Ver 7.0

Cat (on phone): “Oh, so the police called me yesterday looking for your number…”

Alice racks her brain trying to think of any possible reason the cops would call her. She has been so broke lately she’s considered robbing a bank and is now afraid that they have developed a new mind reading technology designed to get criminals before they strike

Cat: “Apparently we’re being subpoenaed“

Turns out I’m not going to jail after all, which is good because I’m pretty sure that white overalls with silly black stripes are not my colours; it makes my skin look all pale and blotchy.

Here’s the story – wait, am I allowed to tell this or because there’s an ongoing case is it illegal for me to talk about? Screw it, I’m telling it anyway.

One night Cat and I were driving home after a party at our friend’s house. We were stopped at a light and all of sudden there’s a jolt, crash – and we’re hit from behind. The guy in the SUV behind us signaled for us to pull over (it’s a pretty major intersection) so we pulled off into this parking lot behind a building.

The guy gets out of his car and literally staggered over. Cat cracked her window and asked him for his registration. The guy is acting all weird and confused. He was bald, short and pudgy and very Spanish looking. He was wearing a yellow jacket but no shirt underneath. We kept looking at each other like “seriously, is this guy for real?”

He pulls out a bag of cocaine and tries to give it to us while slurring and asking what we want from him. I think he thought we had pulled over to do a drug deal.

Ya, actually, we just want your registration info dude.

So I proceed to call the police. The guy started asking Cat who I was talking to, she told him it was her dad on the line. Well apparently he didn’t believe her because he took off running. He left his car in the parking lot and just ran.

When the cops showed up (three cars – it must have been a slow night) they first searched his car (found nothing there) and had us fill out reports. One of the cops knew Cat from a class they’d both taken in college so we were all just kind of joking around about that while the cops made fun of how terrible my writing is (they feel it looks like a boys writing, really (!) grrr…!).

Since we’d already described him to the cops, suddenly one of them was like: “wait…is that him??” This moron came back, strolling by super casually. Yes, the idiot who ran into us.

The cops chased him down and tackled him to the ground. After they carted him away we headed home. This happened months ago, I’d completely forgotten about it but apparently I have to go to court and tell my version of what happened.

Know what I’m actually kind of excited about? I get to wear a power suit and killer heels

And you know why I wrote this random post which is totally a figment of my imagination…

I wanted to use the word subpoenaed

Tears and smiles…

Tears,
the only way to see her pain.
Smiles,
the only window to her heart.
Her eyes,
Show so much of her emotion.
She tries to hide it,
but everyone knows.
Smiles and tears,
Only shows her character.
Tries to be strong for everyone,
Hides her tears.
But in her weakness
Others step up to be her smiles.
Her tears never out weight the smiles,
But the smiles come naturally.
Smiles hide her tears.
Her tears of sadness.
Tears flow freely,
But only when she is alone.
Smiles flow freely
All the time!
She hides her tears
To keep others from worrying.
She suppresses her feelings
To allow others their freedom.
Her smiles always available
But tears hidden away.
Her tears, to show pain
Yet never seen.
Her smiles to show her true self
Her ever sunny personality.
Her smiles
Her tears
The sum of myself

My pledge to you

Someone had mailed this to me sometime back and I just came across it while I was on a cleansing rampage. I so endorse these thoughts. Hope you guys like them

Are you tired of all those sissy, mushy “friendship” or “fraaansiiip”  poems that always sound good but never actually come close to reality? Well, here is a series of promises that really speaks to true friendship!

• When you are sad . . . I’ll get you drunk (or gorge on chocolate) & help you plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
• When you are blue . . . I’ll try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
• When you smile . . . I’ll know you finally got laid.
• When you are scared . . . I will rag you about it every chance I get.
• When you are worried . . . I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.
• When you are confused . . . I will use little words to explain.
• When you are sick . . . stay away from me until you’re well again. I don’t want whatever you have.
• When you fall . . . I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.

This is my oath . . . I pledge till the end. Why you may ask? Because you’re my true friend!

My Version of Bistro watching

The tomatoes sit on the sauté station; shiny, red, ripe – the green stems holding them together like a trail of school children holding hands while crossing the street. The smell emulating from the oven is that of pine nuts roasting; pungent and woody. As I sit at the bar, watching the chefs in a somewhat calm disorder garnishing, tossing, and grilling; I bite into my warm, sweet, walnut-stuffed fig after carefully slicing through the crisp, salty prosciutto enveloping it.

The girls next to me emit a high shriek worthy of having stumbled upon a graveyard of spiders, or perhaps finding a pair of some torn Jimmy Choos on sale and certainly not a shriek worthy of the mere mention of her friend Muskaan. She tosses her hair and smiles broadly. Her friend speaks to her in a low voice. The gales of laughter that follow are a testament to the easygoing triviality of the conversation.

I catch the waitress’ eye and she gives me a knowing half smile. These girls are here all the time, the high heels and skirt suits at odds with their girlish demeanors. The hairstyles may change; the shoes, the facial expressions, the outfits will change but the girls will remain the same in essence. Sometimes I feel I am these girls. Somewhere I guess we all are.

The men across the bar sip their wine, swirling it pompously in their goblets, watching as the legs trail down the interior of the glass to the burgundy pool below. They discuss the merits of “liquid lunches”, which are especially rampant during Stampede week. They argue about the possibility of rain. The one with the glasses being of the point of view that rain is inevitable; the grey-haired, slightly heavy man believing the sky will remain cloudless; the sun continuing to emanate rays all afternoon. The one with the glasses is the one who will end up being right.

A family sits behind me, the son wearing an expression of resentment and boredom. His mother scolds him, telling him to take his earphones out while they are eating dinner together, as a family. I smile, remembering our family dinners all too well. I once cried because we went to the same restaurant and they sat us at the same table and I was sure we were going to order the same thing we had last time. There were four of us, my parents and their two kids, so table choices were limited. Even back then, at five years old, I needed change – thrived on it.

After dropping off my bill, the waitress sighs heavily and begins rolling cutlery in large white cloths. She has tourists all day; Europeans who are used to having the tip included in the cost of the meal. Children who can’t stop exclaiming over the horses! Outside! Look mommy, look!

She has been wearing her boots for five hours, without stopping to stretch her toes, massage her feet or even pull up the sock that has fallen indolently below her ankle. She pauses now to turn up the country music that can scarcely be heard over the din of chatter in the bistro. By weeks end everyone will be sick of country music but for now it is a welcome distraction.

I place my money in the bill fold, leaving an extra large tip as I know too well what she is going through. I walk out of the bistro as the first raindrop falls to the earth. The door swings shut behind me, and still the chefs garnish, toss and grill. And still the tomatoes hold hands.

My Unborn Child

to the man I will never know,
or the woman that will never be,
I’m sorry for all the times you weren’t sick,
and I’m sorry for the times you never needed me.

I’m sorry for all the joys of life,
you never got to feel.
I’m sorry for all the childhood dreams,
that never will become real.

I sit and wonder of what you are like,
as a man or a woman that may have been.
It seems strange to have this face full of tears,
over someone I have never seen.

but I can feel you are there, you are part of me,
and your safe in your mothers womb.
Your growing each day as does my love for you,
but the safety you feel will end soon.

if this decision was up to me to decide,
then the adult in you I will know.
I would cherish the memories of your younger years,
and watch from a child as you grow.

but never will I hold you secure in my arms,
and wipe all the tears from your eyes.
or see your first steps and the words that you say,
or feel the pain of your cries.

your mother’s not strong in her mind and her heart,
so I hope you’ll forgive what she’ll do.
the doctors will soon end this life that you know,
and a big part of me will die too.

Alice = Impractical = Funny = Stupid = Alice

So it’s been a long few weeks in Neverland. Working and being terribly sick isn’t the most fun thing ever, especially when one of them practically requires you to be high (not on drugs or alcohol, you silly Billy- I am talking about cough syrups…!). Hence the dancing and stairwell kissing – for anyone who was wondering, I did several shots with my friends that night as well. The Piano-bar we had created is like Coyote Ugly but without all the crowds and dancing and fire breathing and nubile women

Actually, there is a fire-breather employed within us, but it doesn’t start until next week so ya.

Doesn’t count.

It would be fun and awesome except for the fact that after working until midnight, I have to wake up and head to my job in the morning. Oh and the fact that I’m not eighteen anymore so my body is all “what the shit are you doing to me?” and my wallet is all “hey remember those bills you still haven’t paid?” See, I’m too busy working at making money so I don’t have time to get to the bank to deposit that money so I can pay those bills.

It’s a Catch-22

Speaking of wallets, have you ever lost something and completely freaked out only to realize that you actually had it the whole time? No? Me neither…

Ya, except on Friday when I was arctic in my head, when I got done work and went to grab my wallet only to realize my wallet was not there. I had checked my wallet that morning to see how much money I had left over from the night before (A thousand bucks- which is pretty good) so I knew I hadn’t left it somewhere random.

I proceeded to tear apart the staff room, cry my eyes out, and ask “who would do something like this a WEEK after Christmas??” and say things like: “I just don’t understand! I get along with everyone here, who would do this to me?”

After my friend bought me a glass of wine and some dinner, I headed home only to see my wallet sitting on my bed.

Smiling…Ogling…Mocking…. at me

Right where I left it after I checked my balance.

Whoops…! That justifies the title of this post!

The Resolution

• To be a good girl and help mum in the kitchen
• Not to kick my brother whenever he tries to act funny with me
• To sleep in peace and not keep on talking in sleep
• Not try to jump on the bed and try touching the ceiling
• Not talk to myself
• …always
• To be good at work and not loaf around
• Not tease men at work
• To take my boss seriously (I hope he doesn’t read this…!)
• To write a page of mindless violence everyday
• Try to reduce my weight
• Not assume that cough syrup is like candy and refrain from gulping it down whenever my sweet tooth starts aching
• Not bite my nails
• To talk less
• To sleep less
• To experiment with a different genre of literature
• Eat less chocolate
• To pay my bills on time
• Not drop my phone every now and then
• Drink less alcohol and more water…! (*sigh!)
• Listen to people
• Not ridicule baseless ideas and concepts… but just ignore them
• Try to stay in touch with distant cousins
• Watch more meaningful movies
• Try to fit into my old pair of jeans
• Start my guitar practices once again
• Try to touch a dog…! (Yes guys, I am suffering from Cynophobia)
• Be good to the women who bitch behind my back… for they don’t know what sin they are committing
• Smile more often and not sulk whenever I get some awful work to do
• Think proactive. Think different.
• Shut up for the time being and get back to work…!