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.