LOL

So I know that there are things that are less than socially acceptable to be done alone. Like drinking or going to the movies or a restaurant or eating a gallon of ice cream on the sofa. It's a good thing that behaving in a socially acceptable manner is not always high on my list of priorities. I tend to laugh by myself, not about stuff occurring around me, but rather stuff that I think about, in my head. For instance, my mother is what the French would refer to as une technophobe. She is not very good with electronics - computers, cell phones, DVD players, basically anything. A while ago, she finally learned how to send text messages, which is no small feat for her, a woman who couldn't figure out how to get the second and third letters on a cell phone key (she knew that by pressing 2, she could type the letter A, but she didn't know how to get the B or C). All the contacts in her phone book were in a strange code that only she could decipher. Now as if that isn't hilarious enough, she didn't know how to type a space, so all of her messages were like howareyoudoing or haveanicedayiwillcallyoulater. When she finally figured that out, she moved on to trying to use abbreviated lingo in her texts. Everyone wants to be cool, you know. She started to write messages that sounded like English was not her first language, Maybe u c a nice pair at another store where r u finish class was her way of saying Maybe u will c a nice pair at another store. Where r u? U finish class? Yes, she is special. She is my mother. Now my brother wasn't so amused or patient. One day after receiving a text from her, he sent her one back that read This phone is not able to receive text messages. He told me about it and we both had a good laugh. But really, I didn't think that she would fall for it. I forgot all about it, until like a couple weeks ago, when she said she was trying to get a hold of him. I suggested sending a text message and she said No, I can't. His phone can't receive text messages. I was confused, like What are you talking about? And then I remembered and I cracked up, like You actually believed that!?!? And she was too confused. I tried to explain the story to her and she kept arguing with me, telling me that no, that she got a message and he can't receive text messages. OMG, maybe you had to be there. But yes, I laugh by myself around other people at memories that only I have. If you happen to ever see me break into laughter, just smile, or better yet, laugh with me.

the time being

Daylight savings time. Woot! An extra hour, which I have decided to spend lounging in the bed with a bowl of ice cream and the computer. Last week Sunday, my phone told me that it was daylight savings time and it reset itself. So I was thinking, hmmmm okay. I called a friend to find out if it was true and she told me no, that daylight savings time was a week later. I tried to change the time on the phone, but everyday at midnight it would reset itself. After a week of that confusion, the time will finally be correct.
I have been spending too much time at work. Which I suppose in a way is a good thing. Ever notice how scrubs look a lot like prison uniforms? Coincidence? I think not. Anyway, there is a really sweet woman at my work who I sometimes talk to during lunch. After finding out that I only have 1 brother (in comparison with her 8 siblings), do not have any family living with me in Denver, and am single, I have become her new project. She is determined to find a mate for me. First it was one of her single brothers, now it is one of her co-workers. I don't know what to do. Being single is not a curse. I mean, some people like being single. Maybe I am one of them. Maybe that is just the way that God made me. Say you have this friend who was recently dumped. I mean DUMPED, like totally unexpected in a completely public place. Her feelings were crushed and she didn't know how to take it exactly, because she hadn't been dumped in years. I'm talking like more than 5 years ago, because truth is she wouldn't open herself up to situations that would enable that. BUT, she decided that it is time for a change, because change goes so well with age, you know. So she decided to take a chance, because taking chances is what life and learning are about. All of her good intentions and efforts got her nowhere. At least nowhere she wanted to be. Obviously that is a sign from the Lord that she doesn't belong in a relationship. Kenisha said, "Fine then Leela, just be single forever." Well maybe I will. Thank you very much.

my dad, my inspiration

My dad gives the best gifts. Several years back, instead of receiving birthday gifts, my brother and I agreed to donate the money to New Life Charitable Trust, a non-profit organization which cares for children and elderly people without families in India. On our birthdays, our donations sponsor their meals and they say special prayers for us and send photos. It's amazing how little money is needed to feed more than 100 people by Western standards. It's so easy to become too wrapped up in one's daily life and problems and take things for granted. My dad makes sure that we recognize how truly blessed we are and reminds us of our responsibility in sharing that with others.

My dad has done other work with them as well and always makes a special trip when he is in India. I haven't been able to visit yet, since I usually spend most of my time in India with family in Kerala, but next time I go (hopefully summer of 2008) I will be sure to visit. There is a cow named Leela, which delivered a calf, which was named after my brother. So anyway, if interested, visit the website to see all of the projects they are working on and ways to help.

party time!!!

I don't think that OJ should be prosecuted for his actions in Vegas. In fact, he should be able to sue the city of Vegas for renegading on their slogan that "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

So that was my dad's letter to the editor of the Grand Junction Free Press a week or so ago. And they published it. Anyway, the relevance of this (other than providing tangible evidence that foolishness is genetic) is that tomorrow is my birthday and I am going to Las Vegas. Now the last time I went, I had a bit of a rough time (understatement). But so what! I'm going to Vegas tomorrow and I don't give a f*ck cause it's my birthday!!!!

Sometimes my friend Jameel really sucks. I keep him around though I guess since he is my oldest friend and all, but still, he can really suck at times. It's like he just isn't thinking or something. I don't even know. For instance, there is the time that I was in San Francisco and he totally abandoned me for this Polish girl. Or how he agreed to do this web design work for my brother and kept postponing it until it was obvious that he had no intention of doing it. Did I mention how when he came to Europe last year, he did NOT visit me in Paris, yet he managed to go to Paris this year after I had already returned home? Okay fine fine, to be fair, he does do a lot of nice things too...right...moving on.

I guess the best part about true friends is that they accept you as you are without expecting you to be perfect. And they forgive your mistakes. They can piss you off, you can disagree and fight and know that you won't lose that person. You know that you will remain friends through good and bad times alike. And it's through those difficult times that you truly grow together.

So Jameel, thanks for not sucking so bad this weekend.
I guess I kind of love you too.

okay Stace, maybe you are right

I shouldn't give up on blogging.

I was told that I need to grow a thicker skin. I am overly sensitive. I take things way too personally. Fine, I recognize this. I know that I tend to find a way to interpret things as being a result of my own inadequacies. Habit, I suppose. A bad one. I beat myself up over things which I have no control over. This is where the theory I suck at life comes into play. It's always my fault in some form. Now when I look at things from afar and add a bit of logic, I know that this is not the reality of the situation, but those emotions can be awfully relentless. Still, recognizing the problem is half of the battle, right? Okay, that's great, but changing the behavior is the hard part, the part that seems to have me baffled. Well, what if I were to say that I am determined to overcome this flaw, no matter how arduous? You would want to know how. I don't have all the answers, but I have an idea of where to start. I have to stop setting these ridiculous standards by which I judge life and assign value. Taking chances is a part of growing up. I need to accept that I am human. Humans make mistakes; it's natural. So I guess what I'm trying to say is there is no reason for me to go into hiding. Sometimes things will be great, other times they will suck, but I will still be me and life will continue.

apologies

As if it isn't completely clear, I am retiring my blog. My head is clouded, my heart hurts, everything is wrong. Maybe I'll return if when this nightmare abates.

like a skinny kid loves cake?

I love to bake. Typically I don't bake as much as I would like to because I need people around to eat it. So I tend to bake when there is some kind of event, otherwise I give the stuff to coworkers and friends. Lately, I have been baking a lot of cupcakes. I love cupcakes because they are super cute and fun to decorate. I gave last week's cupcakes to my neighbors, the apartment complex manager, and him and his 2 roommates. I have a reputation for making fabulous desserts (for the most part, lol, accidents happen, okay!).

A couple years back, my roommate Kenisha asked me to bake the cakes for a going-away party that she was hosting for her then boyfriend who was moving to LA. The party was being planned by her and his mother, who lived in Arizona and was coming to Colorado for the event as well as to help him move. Anyway, as they were figuring out what they needed to buy as far as decorations and sending out invitations and such, Kenisha let his mom know that I would be taking care of the cakes so they didn't need to order any. On the day of the party, I went over to Kenisha's house and as she was introducing me to his mom, she took one look at me and said Bones is going to bake a cake?!? I just stood there in shock. I thought that when you said you had a friend that was going to make the cakes, it was going to be some big ol' girl. Bones can't bake a cake. She continued as if I wasn't even there. My feelings were crushed. I didn't even know what to say. Kenisha told me to just ignore her (and as I spent more time around her, I realized that she lacks a bit of couth). I put it out of my mind, baked the cakes and they looked and tasted great. Nevertheless, to this day, what she said comes to mind, except that now instead of hurting my feelings it makes me laugh.


Today I baked chocolate fudge cupcakes topped with mocha amaretto buttercream frosting. They are extremely rich and delicious (unless of course you don't care for chocolate and/or coffee). Baking is like the perfect blend of science and art. So yes, bones can bake a cake. Thank you very much.

Is it true that Miss Cleo is going to be on The Surreal Life?

So I headed out this morning in pursuit of a couple of envelopes and some stamps. Three hours later, I found myself carrying a new TV up to my 5th floor apartment (all by myself, respect the muscle power). My old TV broke last year a couple months before I was scheduled to leave the country. The screen just went completely black one day (though the sound continued working fine). Everyone said that it wouldn't be worth having it repaired and that I should buy a new one instead. I figured it best to go without for a while and buy one when I returned. Now normally when I need to make a big purchase which involves a lot of different possibilities (commonly electronics), it takes me a long time. My usual process consists of online research and reviews, store visits, and price comparisons followed by an indefinite state of indecision and inactivity. After a while, I restart with the research because by then there are probably new products to consider. Eventually, I do come to a conclusion. Even if it takes me a bit longer, I don't mind too much, because I need to feel satisfied with my choice and cannot deal with buyer's remorse. Although I do have to admit that the whole process can be frustrating, especially when it is something that is more essential, like a television. If it was simply about me not being able to watch TV then it wouldn't have been such a pressing issue, because I have gotten used to not having one around. But when you can't invite someone over to watch a movie with you, it becomes a problem. And the Wii wasn't looking very impressive sitting around in its box either. I bought a TV, I'm happy with it, and what's that? I scheduled an appointment for cable installation tomorrow, gasp. Finally, I can watch all the shows that everyone is always talking about like Making the Band 4, Baldwin Hills, and all the other stuff they won't put online. Not to mention, no more watching episodes online constantly being interrupted by buffering. Movie previews, commercials, music videos. Finally, I am rejoining contemporary society.

Predictions for the upcoming week:
Want to come over and watch a movie with me? I made cupcakes.
We should watch The Hills together on Monday. Stop by around 7.
Wii party over here!!!!

stupid

Apparently, I like being stressed and anxious. Love it, in fact. Because if I didn't then I wouldn't insist on getting myself all emotionally worked up when my brain is thinking logically and telling me to calm down and reminding me that other times when I have felt this exact same way, things have always turned out fine and to put more faith in God and stop trying to make my own plans only to end up upset when they don't work out the way that I had planned, but end up working out perfectly according to God's plan. And everytime, every single time, every single fucking time, I look back and I laugh at myself for being so foolish. Yet, I continue to do it again and again. WHY?!?! That's the part I can't get. So the answer must be that I enjoy it.

All's fair in love and war, right?

I'm sitting at home watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days with a cool glass/bottle of shiraz, and it got me thinking about how the boy that I am dating is absolutely great. Attentive. Caring. Thoughtful. Affectionate. Catering. Dare I say...perfect. So perfect, that he makes me look like a complete ass. I mean what do you do when you are telling your friends stories and they are like Wow, he is so sweet! God Leela, how could you say that, you are so mean. Like what?!?! You are supposed to be repping Team Leela. Team Leela for life!!!! You are my friends! You should be saying If he ever hurts, he will have to answer to me. But nooooo, it's more like, Leela, please don't screw this up. Please. Leela, please. And believe you me (isn't that the weirdest expression), I have no intention of purposely messing things up. So you people can stay off of Team him (with all of the Leela, why?!?/Leela, what exactly is the problem?!?! comments) because guess what, there was a merger and we are now Team Us. So there!

The Libra Woman
Your date's charm and elegance masks a profound insecurity that her whole life is superficial. She might seem like she has it all, but she feels the scales aren't in her favor, continuously missing some part of herself that was never there to begin with. Clue: You can't complete her and don't try to fix her. She's not broken, just broken hearted...that the world isn't as beautiful and fair as she wants to believe. Help her to accept what's available rather than what should be possible.

oh little brother

My brother has a beer bong in the garage. When my dad asked, he told him that it was part of a science experiment. My dad said I'm not stupid.

whoa, it's August!?!

I dislike public speaking. Mainly because I'm just no good at it. I had to give a presentation in class today on a paper entitled Little Evidence for Developmental Plasticity of Adult Hematopoietic Stem Cells. Riveting, I tell you. But the point is that I hate giving presentations because I always get ridiculously nervous. No matter how much I remind myself to command the deeper voice, I end up talking way too fast in a super high-pitched tone. And although I'm not one of those people who repeats umm, I repeat and instead, automatically turning all of my sentences into run-ons. At some point, I tend to lose my train of thought, because I'm so focused on my anxiety and then I scramble to regain control. It could be worse in my mind than reality, but still it's not a pretty sight. Basically I don't think that I like being the center of attention. It makes me nervous. I'm probably being too self-conscious. Anyway, to my surprise, today I overcame my usual nervousness. I spoke calmly and clearly without fear of being asked questions that I wouldn't have answers to. And I felt great doing it. It may be a residual effect of that wine flight that I had last night. Whatever. Don't rain on my parade.

a little bit late, but still...

I was tagged by Jess, so here goes...

Rules:
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

1. I do not like carbonation. I never have. So I don't drink soda or other carbonated beverages. I don't like the fizzy sensation. When I first began drinking beer, I used to swirl and let my beer sit and repeat until it went mostly flat. Everyone thought it was gross. (Exception: I love champagne.)

2. I have always been a late bloomer. I use that as an excuse for my awkwardness.

3. 11:11 is my favorite time.

4. Drains and raw meat disgust me. (I'm not too fond of most cooked meat either.)

5. I am accident prone when it comes to burns. Flat iron, curling iron, oven/stove, basically anything that gets hot, I manage to burn myself with every opportunity. If I didn't have at least one burn on my body at all times, I might start to worry.

6. I lived in Panama in the late 80s during US occupation of the Panama Canal Zone. During Operation Just Cause, I remember not being able to attend school and having to remain low to the floor in the house at mealtimes. As a result, crisis situations, such as storms, always give me a calming sense of togetherness.

7. Boba tea makes me ridiculously happy. It is probably the caffeine, but I prefer to think there is something magical in those balls of tapioca.

8. Showering is great. I shower at least twice a day.

In direct violation of rule 4, i shall not be explicitly tagging 8 people. If you want to be tagged, then go ahead.

I guess I'm disturbed.

You [mixed people] like to think you are special, so you create your own problems.
- name withheld

One of the earliest childhood dilemmas arises when encountering the racial classification survey. Choose a racial category. I remember seeing that for the first time on a standardized test in elementary school. Can we choose more than one? someone asked. No, choose only one. If you are more than one race then choose the one which you are more of. That didn't really sit well with me since 50% and 50% are equal. Well, just pick other. What exactly is other? I didn't know. I blackened in the circle. Other. Okay.

As times changed and having the option to choose multiple categories became standard, things got easier. Black or African American. Asian. And in the rare case when choosing more than one classification wasn't an option, I always had my sentimental other to fall back on. Some other race. Biracial. Other, please describe.

But yesterday this issue resurfaced in a new light as I was completing a job application survey online. Only one choice was allowed so I instinctively scanned down to the bottom of the list to choose other and was shocked to see that instead of other, the non-specific category was labeled unknown. I highlighted that circle with my cursor. Unknown?

so.....

I like this boy. And it appears that he likes me too.
Now where exactly is the problem in that?
Apparently, there isn't one.

this may make sense to no one but me

Yeah yeah yeah. It is way past time for an update. Thanks for being patient :)

So I have been back in the land of the free, home of the brave, America the beautiful for over 3 weeks now. I have been experiencing a mixture of emotions, from nostalgia to confusion to pure joy. Enough already with that emotional ish. Truth is, I just don't know where to start, so much has happened since I last posted. Basically I have been readjusting to life in the States (read: eating too many burrrritos and drinking like an undergrad. Ahem, among other things of course).

Anyway, I'll just start with the here and now. I'm in Grand Junction where my dad and brother live. (Never heard of it? Well it's a small city in the valley of Western Colorado, aka Dysfunction Junction, Junk Town. As if! No no no, I'm not from GJ, my family just lives here.) I am living in Boulder for the summer (a 4 hour drive away). Every so often I come home to chill (and in the case of this weekend, to pick up some clothes and my bike). And sometimes I remember how much I do NOT like it here. (LOATHE it.) How much I do NOT belong here. (Total outcast.) Maybe it brings back memories that I would rather not have.
But then when I really think about it I realize that actually I am being reminded that these memories no longer have a hold on me the way they once did. I used to be afraid of what certain people thought about me. I wanted to fit in so badly. (But when you move to a small town during your junior year of high school, where everyone has known each other since preschool, and you are the only person of color, which makes the other kids afraid, chances of fitting in are not looking great.)
One day I got smart and asked myself: Why do I care so much about what you think? What makes you so special? Who are you in the scheme of life? The answer is no one. You are NO ONE to me (and to most of the rest of the world, which by the way, you have never seen. Okay, now I'm just being bitter and mean. Apologies.)

Leela, you have changed so much. Well yeah. I have grown. Up. It's what I do. I always want to be moving towards a better me. Every time I come back to GJ, I am amazed by all the new buildings and businesses that seem to spring up overnight. I find irony in the fact that as much as the scenery changes, the people never seem to follow suit. I guess that small town mentality just can't be shook. So I thank Grand Junction for showing me what it means to waste a life through under achievement and sending me running in the opposite direction.

There is a certain myth that claims that in order to truly leave Grand Junction for good, you has to take some dirt with you or else you will inevitably move back. Fortunately, I have never had that problem. Grand Junction has never had that kind of hold on me. Like I said, I'm not from here.

cause it's Friday, you ain't got no job...

I'm at home. Hanging with my brother. Laughing. Singing. Being loud. Watching DVDs. Performing beauty rituals. Sipping on cool drinks. Enjoying the sun. Chillaxin.
Life is good.

Beggars can't be choosers.

lui: I miss you.
moi: Why do you miss me?
lui: I've gotten used to you.
moi: Oh.

Wait, when did I become a beggar?!?

I woke up this morning feeling crazy.

I think I had some bad dreams last night. I can't remember them, so I guess I'll never know. I had my oral exam final this morning. Rocked it. Woot! My FB asked, "How did your exam go?" "Great. The professor said that I speak very well." "I told you that." He said annoyed. But whatever, I don't believe that. Because they don't see the amount of effort that I go through in my mind to organize my thoughts into sentences that actually make sense. In a timely conversational manner, nonetheless. Masculine or feminine? Which tense? How do I pronounce that? Does that verb take a direct or indirect object? They don't know the frustration I feel when I can't find/don't know the right words to express my thoughts. They only hear what comes out of my mouth. I'm not impressed. Typical me.

My dad reminds me that to whom much is given, much is expected. I know. He is my greatest inspiration, yet he feeds my susceptibility to anxiety with diligence.

I closed my bank account and cancelled my cell phone contract today. I started to realize that I am actually leaving in a couple of days. (Sounds familiar.) I'm going home. Home. There's no place like home. Home sweet home. Home is where the heart is. Home. Or whatever it means for a person with nomadic tendencies. I move for the nostalgia.

It's been storming for the past hour. Lots of rain, thunder, and lightning. The sky has a hazy yellow-green hue. The hyper white flashes of lightning reach across the sky momentarily changing it violet. Perfect weather for studying for tomorrow's written exam. What? Tomorrow is Saturday. Yeah well.

5 days!!!

No, I haven't died. And I'm not on a blogging break or anything like that. Truth is, last Thursday I finally clicked one of the 20 million popup ads that pollute my screen on the daily. And who would've guessed, it actually worked! So now I am busy packing for my new life. In AMERICA!!!

I had the Beyoncé experience.

I went to see Beyoncé in concert this past Wednesday at Bercy. It was awesome! She sang EVERYTHING, from her B-day album to Dreamgirls to old old original Destiny's Child songs. She danced her ass off. She didn't even fall, like not even a stumble. The orchestra (all girls) and dancers were amazing. I was impressed. So much so that I'm not even going to mention how the 20 minute intermission between her and the opening act, Lemar (who?), was closer to 50 minutes. Bottom line: She rocked. My photographs, uh, not so much. It's like where's Waldo, except with Beyoncé. Hint: She's the shiny one, probably in the middle.

Stars really should be 2.5 times the size of us common folk. It would make the world a better place, or at least improve their visibility. Just a thought.

a weekend in Normandie

Tranquil. That is the one word that best describes Deauville and Trouville. Of course, charming, chic, and many other adjectives are easily applicable. But nothing was as pervasive as the tranquility. It was present amidst the wind and the chilling rain. It was found on destination-free walks through neighborhoods filled with grand old homes, empty, waiting without complaint for their summer guests. It appeared from the depths of glasses of beer and in the savory flesh of fresh fish. Tranquility. I felt it in the sand and broken seashells beneath my bare feet. I heard it in the rhythmic lapping of the ocean against the shore. I saw it in the rays of sunshine that diffused through a cloudy grey backdrop like a window to heaven. I possessed it in the hand that was interlocked with mine. I might have spent a lifetime on that beach and never noticed the passing of time.

It was a good day.

Today I didn't even have to use my AK. And that's not even the best part. I saw the fugliest pictures ever of an ex on the Facebook. And it brought me joy in sinful proportions. Dirty lying coward. Now some may argue that he was never much of a looker to begin with and most likely they are correct. I was blinded by love booze.

Anyway, today I have to cut my nightly multislacking off early, so that at 6:18 AM when my alarm goes off, I actually get up right away instead of rolling around and pressing snooze a million times and end up missing my train for which the tickets are non-refundable. Sweet dreams…

It's not that I repeat myself, I just say things more than once.

So I am awake, because I'm not sleepy yet. I figured that I would write something since I am still up and all, except that I really can't think of anything other than how I want to eat a bowl of brown sugar oatmeal for breakfast. It's not even that I'm hungry right now, because I'm not; it's the taste that I want. The sugary oatmealy goodness. That anticipation fuels hunger.

I typically indulge my craving instead of fighting them. I eat whatever I have a taste for. Sometimes that means grazing on peanut butter M&Ms for a whole day, eating nothing but granola for weeks, or smothering everything with cheese for a month, however long it takes to run its course. It's as if something is missing and either that absence must be filled or allowed time to fade away.

Maybe I am missing something (else). Maybe that something is someone. Or maybe it's just that I'm not getting enough from him. Maybe its expectation rather than anticipation that fuels this longing. Maybe it is in vain.

Early Saturday morning my FB and I are off to Deauville in Normandie. Hoping for sunny skies and smooth sailing. Anyway, I don't even think there is any oatmeal here. So hopefully that craving will be put to rest with a little sleep. Nighty night.

P.S. Wishing a very Happy 24th Birthday to Kenisha and Anisah!!! (who decidedly do not read this blog, but so what)

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught
But daddy longlegs, I feel that I'm finally growing weary
Of waiting to be consumed by you
Give me the first taste
~ Fiona Apple

FYI

Some people are drawn to a beautiful, pearly smile.
Many prefer a vibrant personality and sense of humor.
While a well-toned body renders others weak.
Me? I have a thing for last names. Surnames.
(I like all of that other stuff too though.)

Now not just any old last name will do. I mean a good last name. And what exactly is that? There's the difficulty because as always, it depends. There are no strict rules. Nevertheless I will try to lay down some basic guidelines.
- not very common (at least by American standards)
- memorable (in a good way, preferably no connections with public scandals)
- audibly aesthetic
- has some sort of meaning

Side note: The last name doesn't necessarily have to be very long or difficult to pronounce (although the latter can be a plus, case in point, you always know when telemarketers are calling by the way they (can't) pronounce your name). I am also somewhat partial to last names beginning with the letters L, M, and V. There is just something unexplainably appealing about certain names.

Now wait a minute, let me make it clear. I don't plan on actually changing my last name when I get married.* I will add on Jada Pinkett Smith style if the name is worthy. Otherwise I shall be known forevermore as Mrs. Velayudhan. The one who holds the spear.

Due to the subjective nature of this determination, last names are best reviewed on a case by case basis. Okay then, let's see.
Jones. Smith. Martin. Keep it moving.
Johnson. Anderson. No sons. Thanks.
White. Williams. Lewis. Next please.
Campbell. No.
Kumar. Kim. Ho. No no NO!
Rodriguez. You've got to be kidding me.
Lovejoy. Hmm…I'll consider it.
Mbikina. Oooh, hold up boy. Can I get at you for a minute? Sooo, do you like have any plans for, say the next decade or so…

* Whoa, I know you caught that. I know you are thinking, oooh she said when she gets married, instead of if. I know you are saying it's always the ones who shun marriage who are the first to tie the knot with a smirk on your face. Oh whatever.

from another angle

nearing
. the end .
and time is flying
I'm trailing behind
drowning in my tears
as it drags me along by the wrist
wait, I need a minute
to catch my breath

to consult my heart
restive, tense, I'm ready
sprinting ahead without regard
choking on screams
evading the confines of its grasp
is it time yet?
back at
. the beginning .

I am the problem.

You know how there is always that one person in a relationship who is the problem. They are the one who manages to find something wrong when everything is fine. They are the one to incite an argument and then cry about everything being so unfair. Well, that problem person is me. I have no problem admitting it. Now the why is another issue. Blame it on my steadfast belief that this is not going to work anyway, so let's just end it now. There is logic to that, no? This relationship will more than likely end terribly with both parties getting hurt and requiring all kinds of emotional healing. Is it worth all of that? Wouldn't you rather skip all of that drama in the middle and end it right here? Forget the marriage, we're already divorced. I've always been good at walking away. It leaves me with a sense of relief rather than regret. A feeling that I can once again breathe easy. Why do I think like this? Perhaps I only want what I feel like I don't have. Maybe my fear of being hurt is too deep-seated. Or it could be that the idea of permanence repulses me. Is this working out well for me? I guess it depends on what exactly you define as working out well. Honestly speaking, no, not really. And I have tried to change this pattern and employ a different approach, but when push comes to shove, I revert back to old habits and do what I do best. Run away.

What would Jack Bauer do?

Let's not focus on the fact that I went to class today in the same clothes that I had on all day yesterday. Let's also ignore that I hadn't showered and I smelled anything but fresh. Hair uncombed, teeth unbrushed. It was so bad that even the beggar people didn't find it worth their time to taunt me with their normal Please. I'm hungry. Please. antics. Oh yeah, and I didn't have my books either. Let's put that all to the side and concentrate on the positive. I went to class on time. Early, in fact. Right. So yeah, that's about it for the positives.

Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Leela? No it started way before that, maybe with my french boy's bedtime story about an ex girlfriend giving him head in front of her friend and how that incident played a factor in their breakup. I guess that bottle of whiskey put him in a sharing mood. Sharing is caring after all. Wanna spoon? Uh yeah, how about NO! Does it change anything if I tell you that that was supposed to be a convincing counter argument to me saying that I didn't feel respected? Confused? I was too. First of all, I was sleeping and he wakes me up to tell me that I need to eat, because I hadn't eaten anything since early afternoon. He was right and I appreciate his concern for my hypoglycemia and all, but it was 2 AM and I was ASLEEP. I don't want/need to be woken up to eat. I was grumpy. It became clear that he wasn't giving up without a fight, so I ate some food to appease him in hopes that he would let me go back to sleep, but that became me insulting him and the food from his homeland and the people who prepared it and his culture and heritage and his entire family going back for generations including the local village dog Tanto, because I didn't like it.
I like it. It's good.
Then why aren't you eating?
Let's see… I'm not hungry! I need to go back to sleep. I need to wake up in the morning to go to class. I have to go home before class to get ready and to get my books.
That's where the not feeling respected comment came in which diverted his attention from feeding me.

When you wake up with rehdogg's Why must I cry playing in your head, you should already know that something is not right. Add in the mix waking up just late enough where you have to decide between going straight to class (on time, as you are, without your books) and going home to get ready (disrupting class by showing up at least 30 minutes late). Now what if you find yourself relating to the profoundness of the lyrics instead of laughing at rehdogg's voice and facial expressions? Lord help me. What is the problem here? I don't know, but I'm going to take a shower, put on my favorite raggedy ass CU sweatpants, lounge in my bed eating my rice and dahl while pondering the eternal mystery Why must I cry? Why? My phone is off because I don't feel like talking to anyone today, but be aware that I will be checking it every now and again just to make sure a certain person is calling. No I don't want to talk to him, but I'll be damned if he doesn't call.

WWJ(B)D? I can tell you that he certainly wouldn't be sitting in his room shutting out the world. He would shoot someone.

Plan B.

blah blah blah

I haven't been feeling like myself lately. Not really sure what that means. Nothing is specifically wrong, it is just that I can't place how I feel. About anything.
Am I happy? Am I sad? Stressed? Excited? I couldn't tell you. My french boy? Yeah, I guess I like him. He's cool. What do I want? I don't know. What do I feel like doing? I don't know that either. I'm not hungry. I'm not sleepy. I'm just blah. Anyway, I'm annoying myself with this nonsense. I hope this nothingness passes soon. And this UTI too, because I'm sick of peeing being the only thing I feel the urge to do.

Barcelona was beautiful.

to make a long story short

I'm back from Barcelona and I was planning on raving about how beautiful it was. Not only was the weather ideal, but the people were super friendly, the food was fabulous, and the shopping, OMG the shopping! Yes, I was planning on writing that. That is, until last night. Last night I was at a club and my watch was fucking stolen. STOLEN. I was beyond irate. And it went deeper than just a missing watch, I felt violated. Having something stolen from my person left me feeling extremely vulnerable. And it was like no one was understanding that, which only made me more angry. In my rage, I used a lot of foul language and directed my outrage at inappropriate targets. (I had been drinking.)* I scared myself with how emotionally out of control I was. Ultimately, I was most upset with myself, because at the beginning of the night I had had this sinking feeling that something bad was going to happen, but I decided to ignore it, pay careful attention to my bag, and try to enjoy myself. Way to go.
This morning I was still really mad, and every time I would look at my wrist to check the time only to find it bare, my anger just heightened. So in the airport waiting for my flight back home, I bought a new watch in duty free. I am feeling a bit better.

* a clarification, not an excuse

what you know about that

1. I am keeping a lot of tension in my mouth area. I noticed this development while I was looking at recent photographs of myself (exhibit A – see photo in the post below). I was wondering, why am I always doing this weird lip pursing thing? Not cute. On top of that, my teeth grinding has returned. It's not that it ever stopped, but I was wearing my mouth guard nightly (oooh the sexiness) until…I'm not sure what happened, but I stopped. Yesterday I decided that I needed to start using it again, but when I woke up this morning it was on the floor. Now I spend a good part of my day consciously reminding myself to relax my mouth. I have self-diagnosed this as a symptom of smile deprivation, because I have no other reason to be so tense.

2. I bought a new pair of chopsticks. They are beautiful shiny and polished metal. I love them.

3. I'm longing for a good night of incoherent fun. One of those nights where no one remembers exactly what happened. The morning after, you all sit around over a breakfast of greasy cheese and/or ranch covered food trying to piece together jumbled memories in attempt to determine what his name is, why you thought he was cute, and what exactly he is doing (sleeping) in your shower.

4. My fellow countrywomen may have shed their Uggs for flip flops weeks ago, but it was not until yesterday that I actually felt a change in the air. It feels like spring now. And that can only mean one thing: spring fever…

Lacanau was lovely.

I have been less than enthusiastic about my photographs lately. I want/need a new digital camera (the Canon PowerShot SD800 IS/Canon Digital IXUS 850 IS to be specific). Without further ado...

C'est la belle vie.

Non? He asked me yesterday, as we lounged under a parasol, me, mai tai in hand and him drinking a beer. We are in Lacanau-Océan, where the biggest challenge has been determining where the vast blue of the water ends and the sky begins. I had almost forgotten how much I love the sun, the comfort of its heat, the energy in its brilliance. I had forgotten that the sun actually does have the power to wake you up in the morning when it shines through the window. It's days like this when I can't help but smile and feel absolutely grateful.

And you knew that I couldn't leave the computer at home. So I am sitting here blogging, while my french boy is busy yelling and clapping at the tele (ie watching the game), drowning his sorrow and/or happiness in whiskey and a cloud of smoke. The hotness that is soccer boys…
Woot Marseille?!!!

Happy Easter!

Spring break starts today!

2 weeks on holiday!!! Count them: 1. 2. No obligations. Just fun in the sun (or chasing it).

I didn't make it to my grammar class this morning. I was too sleepy. But I was certain to not let the guilt of being absent creep into my thoughts out of fear of becoming like my brother, whose claim to fame is never having missed a university class. EVER. He's a junior. That is just not normal. And he is crazy serious about it too. No, I can't do that. I have class. The scary part is that I was kind of beginning to understand his point of view. Perfect attendance can start to mess with your rational thinking. It can convince you that it is the best way and you will be lost without it. I know better than that.

Lately I have been craving nothing but sweets and I have been feeling really dehydrated (nothing to do with the drinking, I'm sure). Maybe 2 days ago, I ordered a crème brûlée at a restaurant (I watched Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain earlier this week too) and it was TERRIBLE. I ate less than half of it (out of guilt of being a food waster) before leaving the rest. When the waiter returned to the table, he remarked that it was not finished and asked if it was good. I told him not really. He seemed a bit confused and asked me if I was french. I told him that I was american. He asked if I knew the dessert. I told him yes. He asked if there is crème brûlée in the US. Yes again. He explained to me that they serve it all of the time and they never get any complaints from any customers. To appease him, I said fine, maybe it's me. But no, it was NOT me. It was too eggy and the top was not caramelized enough (thwarting my Amélie moment completely). It sucked. End of story.

As for the dehydration, I am heading out to the beach for the weekend, or so I'm promised by my french boy (which one is he? you ask. The one who lives in Texas and says okie dokie). I haven't packed yet. I'll do that in the morning. Who needs class anyway?

What is the meaning of this?

moi: I'm really sorry! I am easily distracted.
lui: By what?
moi: Anything.

In this case, life and uh yeah, the internet, oooh Yahoo Answers...

I know that I am slacking here. I should be writing an update. But I'm not.
But I will.
OMG, this is soooo funny!!! 100% of the time you're on the stupid!

It's raining and my stomach hurts.

Some foods can only be eaten when you are alone. A brownie with peanut butter, vanilla buttercream frosting, and sprinkles is one of them. I woke up this morning to a cloudy grey sky. I felt betrayed. All last week the weather was beautiful. No need for a heavy coat, boots, or even an umbrella. The weather allowed us to play tennis at Luxembourg, which I am told is very chic (an opinion which I'm sure would change if they would've actually seen us playing). When you are ecstatic to have even hit the ball with the racket, the fact that it went over the fence into the neighboring court disrupting another game is secondary. I'm certain that our neighbors were fed up with retrieving our balls and very pleased when our game turned into more of a Lacoste photo shoot. So what happened to the spring of last week? This morning, with a defeated attitude, I was ready to take a wool coat from the wardrobe, but against my better judgment, I put on a light track jacket instead. I kind of froze my ass off this afternoon, although not in vain, because I have decided that the best way to bring on spring weather is to dress for it. The sun just needs a little encouragement.

Merci mille fois!

When you are young, receiving mail is super exciting. Except that you always wonder why you never get anything in the mail (other than the occasional holiday card or letter from India). So your parents try to satisfy you with the junk mail that they don't want. When that stops working they get you a couple of magazine subscriptions and find you some pen pals in Australia and Finland. You wait expectantly knowing that the mail brings treasures from afar. Specifically for you. However, as you age this mail excitement turns into more of a nuisance as mail becomes synonymous with bills. Glossy bulk mailings lose their appeal. Packages are filled with the things that you bought online for yourself. It isn't the same.

When you are far away from home, mail once again resumes its magical quality. Anything in the mail for me today? A junk magazine from the bank! Woot! But today was even more special than that, because I returned home to a large envelope with my name on it. An envelope containing a card, CD, and a bag full of miniature Reese’s cups.

Thank you my dearest Helena! You really are the greatest!!!!! Miss you lots!!!

Comments on YouTube suck.

They are always the stupidest things written by 7th graders ditching school or something who don't seem to understand the rules of grammar or know how to spell. And those ridiculous chain comments. All unnecessary.*

Anyway, I am actually writing this to inform you that I saw Lily Allen in concert this past Sunday. She rocks! You can check out some of my footage here and here.

* Although I may not always follow them, I do know grammar rules. So there goes your smart-ass sentence fragment comment.

It must be me.

Flakey ass friends. Why am I inflicted with these fuckers? I feel like a magnet for them, because it's not just one friend or a one time rare occurrence. I would be able to understand that. But this is too extensive to be normal. Lies, excuses, cancellations, disappearances, all around flakiness. I'm fed up!

Maybe it means that it's time for me to learn to be more independent and self-sufficient. I don't know. Maybe I expect too much from others.

I am admittedly a bad judge of character. Still, I would rather not think that it is me. I consider myself loyal and I try to treat people with respect, but lately I feel like the sentiment is not being reciprocated.

Seeing that I am the common factor in all of these relationships, how do I not take it personally?

Or maybe I should because I am doing something wrong and need to change my behavior.

meet at step 3

It really doesn't need to be said that the Facebook and I are not really friends. So then why am I spending so much time on it? And doing what exactly? Yeah, not even sure. Wasting time.

I still don't completely understand the concept of these Facebook virtual gifts. I thought they were just a Valentine's Day thing, but they are still around. And now I see that they are offering a special edition gift each day with a limited quantity available. I have to admit that they are kind of cute. So I just want to let you know that I have reconsidered my position and I would like one of these, please.


It's only $1 and it is for cancer research for goodness sakes.

Don't make fun of me.

So I decided to stop losing my mind, get myself together, and try to fit in. At least long enough to make some cupcakes. And what goes better with sugary sweetness with sprinkles on top than a nice happy story.
.
.
.
Except I can't seem to think of a story that doesn't involve me doing something really stupid. I will have to substitute a nice happy memory. I can do that.

I am disturbingly bad at receiving compliments. I'm not exactly sure why. (Good thing they are far and in between.) I think that sometimes they seem overtly contrived and insincere. The same overused phrases lack meaning. Perhaps it's the motive that I am leery of. Why are you saying that to me? You must want something.
Instead, the silliest things flatter me. Things that were meant in a certain way, that I prefer to take out of context and give a completely different meaning (because life truly is better in my imagination).

A very long time ago in a very far away land, a boy and I were discussing the pronunciation of people's names and how intonation affects connotation (or something like that). I believe that the topic stemmed from him thinking that I pronounced a mutual friend's name like a swear word. Anyway, it ended with me noting that he didn't say my name very often. To which the boy replied, that is because when I say your name I feel like I don't do it justice.

No, it doesn't make sense. Yes, it is ridiculous. Refer back to post title. Thanks.

I don't understand it.

It feels like a ball of really bright light which starts out next your heart. It increases in intensity becoming heavier as it elongates vertically reaching all the way down past your stomach. Your breathing and heart rate become painfully self-apparent. The light pulses, sometimes slowly, then faster, and with each pulse it tightens its grip.

It makes running seem like the best idea. Around the house. Around the neighborhood. Away. It becomes the only escape. For a while at least. Time passes annoyingly slowly, so you move fervently to try to make up for its lack. Finding things to fill the time is the only thing that makes it pass. You seek out movement to dissipate the excess energy. Thoughts race without logic, running on and on or in circles. It turns even the most trivial thing into a catastrophe. Failure feels certain. Possibilities are the enemy. It all runs together into a blur. Worry takes over. Functioning under its weight is overwhelming. Eating becomes obsolete, or at best, a chore, just to alleviate the shaking which you hope is a result of low blood sugar. And sleep, forget about it.

This anxiety. It begs not to be silenced by meds. You will be nothing without me, it taunts. We get so much done together.
Maybe so but what's the point? I want to know. When you make everything feel worthless.

I thought I'd figure out how to change,
But you never change.
~ Slow Runner

Year of the Pig

Happy Chinese New Year!!

The weather has been absolutely gorgeous this weekend. The sun has been shining relentlessly, which caused my mood to soar with equal vigor. So this afternoon I went to the Chinese New Year parade to celebrate. The costumes were eye-catching, as was the (little bit of) dancing. But overall, I found the parade to be lacking in energy and organization (there were large spaces between the groups, which left one wondering if the parade had in fact finished or if there was more to come). The participants walked way too quickly for being on parade and they didn't display enough excitement. Needless to say, I was slightly disappointed. But it was nothing that a walk along the Seine and a crêpe couldn't solve.

Also, during the parade one of the dragons hit me in the head and I am almost certain that is a sign of good luck. Wishing prosperity, happiness, good fortune, and success to all!

question of the week

elle: You are American, right?
moi: Yeah.
elle: Well, why is your name Leela?

for the love of Dove milk chocolate hearts

People are starting to yell. And I know that means that the threats are soon to come.
Stay calm. Unlock the caps. One exclamation point will suffice. Either I am loved enough to be missed or you guys are just really bored. Whatever the case, I am posting.

It seems that almost everyone despises Valentine's Day, but I happen to LOVE it, so Happy Valentine's Day! This love probably has something to do with all the chocolate (which will be on sale tomorrow), flowers, hearts, jewelry, and the colors red and pink (pink has this unexplainable irresistible compelling quality). Throw in the fact that I basically love all holidays and any other reason to celebrate. I don't really have any epic V-Day memories that fuel my anticipation. Although it is funny that two years ago, for Valentine's Day, both of my parents sent me cards with checks included. It was a surprise, because Valentine's Day is not usually a paid holiday. But then it occurred to me, Did they send me money as a distraction because they were afraid that I would be sad or something? Because I wasn't. (Come to think of it that year was rather memorable.) Moving on...

So for all you people that hate Valentine's Day based on the logic that you shouldn't need a holiday to celebrate the ones that you love. I agree with the contention that you should express your love on a daily basis. But since when does a holiday take away from that? If you are already doing it throughout the year then doesn't Valentine's Day just give you an extra opportunity? As for all the other anti-V-Day reasons, to each her/his own (ie whatev).

Happy Valentine's Day (or not punk) XOXO

day 126

The good: I received my mom's package on Tuesday. They tried to deliver it on Monday, but I wasn't at home, so I went to pick it up the next morning. And all that I'm not a morning person talk went right out of the window as I found myself nearly running down the street to the post office before 10 AM. Now I have more peanut butter and peanut butter M&M's than I can handle. Thanks Mom!!

The bad: My cell phone is lost. I am certain that it went missing somewhere in the movie theater yesterday afternoon, but alas they don't know anything about it.

The ugly: I NEED to do SOMETHING with this hair.

sweet dreams

I can't sleep. I feel homesick...for food. I especially miss my dad's cooking. As well as all things peanut butter, from peanut butter and honey sandwiches to peanut butter M&Ms. I am longing for some good mexican food, like a burrito with rice, black beans, guacamole, extra hot salsa, and cheese. Or some thai food. And some cupcakes piled high with frosting and sprinkles. Maybe a warm underbaked brownie with french vanilla ice cream on the side. Mmm...

?

Why the hell am I eating foie gras? Wait, I like it? Do all french parties have to be themed costume parties? What exactly is Men at Work? Is housewarming not enough of a theme? What was that? Open champagne and vodka bar? Plaid shirt and a wrench, will that work? (No, I'm not a Canadian. I'm a mechanic.) What am I drinking? Umm, are you dancing? You want me to dance with you? Haven't I seen that sort of dancing before? (Ah of course, the Sims 2.) Where is my Sims 2 disc? And another thing, where in the world is the package that my mom sent to me, the one that was supposed to arrive on Friday, the one with the peanut butter M&Ms and the Sonicare replacement brush heads??? What is wrong with the postal system?

Jade: It's not as if my confused look needed more practice, it is just that I know how much you love these pics.

This sucks.

So apparently my body is falling apart.

I woke up this morning with a sore throat. And now I am sneezing up that sickness mucusy taste, which signals that worse is on the way.

Yesterday evening I had the worst headache, which is weird because I rarely get headaches. (And everytime I do, I say that same thing.) It was a terrible dull pain that was spread throughout my forehead. I took some medicine and went to bed early.

The day before that I woke up and my eyes were stuck shut. They hurt so much that I could barely stand to keep them open. I thought to myself, hot damn I have finally contracted conjunctivitis. Because ever since I moved here, I have felt that it would only be a matter of time with all the contaminated spaces that I encounter on a daily basis, between the metro (the poles, seats, handrails) and the public toilets (which ALL lack hot water and paper towels and sometimes even soap). Thankfully it was a false alarm; my eyes were irritated but not infected. I put a bunch of eye drops in them and by the end of the day everything was better.

But I still have this headache and the tingling in my throat is becoming worse.

I blog for me and for you.

Why do you blog?

When I was introduced to the idea of blogging I was immediately attracted. I liked the idea of combining words with visuals via the internet. I'm easily drawn to all things aesthetic. At that time, I never realized how powerful this medium could be (not only globally, but personally). I didn't know that it would have me clicking next blog like a natural reflex. I didn't realize that I would have pages of subscriptions from which I eagerly await updates. I never guessed that I would be encouraging all of my friends to start blogging (Seriously just try it just once. Everyone is doing it dude. It's super easy.) Or that blogger malfunctioning would make me so freaking angry!!! Bottom line: I LOVE blogs.

I spend too much time in the blogosphere. Reading, lurking, chasing links. Commenting, posting. Maybe it's my slightly addictive personality or my voyeuristic tendencies, but I would like to think that it goes beyond that. So what exactly compels one to blog?

Connection.

For some, blogging is a way to keep in touch with friends and family, a convenient way to share life's happenings. It can provide a means for release, a place where one can vent with freedom or even anonymity. Recounting the day's events becomes a source of clarity. Others blog to network, build relationships and communities. Some blog to remember, others to overcome. Informative, political, humorous, artistic, personal. The reasons for blogging are multifaceted, but the common thread is the desire to feel understood, connected.

I enjoy reading other people's written thoughts and feelings. I find inspiration in their creations, the way that they see themselves and the world around them. Blogging documents someone's journey through life and it opens up perspectives that one may not have been exposed to any other way. It reinforces the belief that one is not alone.

My blog gives me a little place where I reign. It doesn't have a specific focus. It is a little bit of everything, but mostly a lot of nothing. I blog for the interaction (personal and interpersonal) and for the expression. I blog to tell my side of the story. I blog to compartmentalize my emotions. I blog to share. I blog to strengthen my voice. I blog to create something beautiful.

So whatever your reason may be... Blog on!
(Or join in, because really all the cool kids are doing it.)