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…