Sunday, July 30, 2006
6 to 12 Months, Maybe....
"Yes, and this couple are really interested. They say that if they can get their house sold, they're definitely going to buy this place."
That was the real estate agent telling my mom that the beautiful house down the street we're hoping to buy might JUST fall into the hands of M and W Lastname.
A vision of a snotty young couple with an inky fingered four year fills my mind. They'd stop with one child, because it would spoil their idyllic lives. They'd both be lawyers and have a nanny, with maybe a white Pomeranian puppy to keep their bored, sculpted and perfect child company.
Don't ask why.
Maybe it was the house itself, the beauty of the settings, the way the mystic passageways tunnelled around the house, the little hatch in the attic where I could see myself sitting and reading...that made me so worried, defensive and judgemental.
"Hey. If you ARE looking for a big house, why don't you check out M and W's? Its...god, it's big. I mean, that is one MASSIVE house, Dr. Kumar. If you want, I could give them a call."
My dad said yes. Internally, I screamed NO, because, good lord, we SO weren't going to make it easier for them to take MY house! NO! What's wrong with you?! And for chrissake, the street's name is DUGDALE avenue! WHO THE HELL WOULD WANT TO LIVE ON DUGDALE AVENUE?! I'll Dug your dale avenue!!!!!
BUUUT, this IS a business, and we were just customers, so we went along anyway.
Well, it WAS a big house.
I walked through the place with my sisters, being snotty and snide, with "No, the floors are the wrong colour." "Dude, how claustrophobic are those narrow PASSAGES?". "What is WITH all the rooms being connected, where's the privacy!". "The bathrooms are miniature, Shama would DIE!".
".....yeah, Dr. Patel's looking after her. She needs dialysis and so we're hoping for a smaller place. She just had that operation and...well....6 to 12 months, if we're...lucky."
I walked out of the house to this conversation and froze.
My upper-middle class lawyers were an elderly retired couple. The wife required dialysis because her aging kidneys just wouldn't function anymore. It was amazing how this devoted old man was willing to stand by his wife this way, and in the last 6 months of her life, try his hardest to make her life as comfortable as possible. He could have, and understandably so, gone, "But M...there isn't much time.....are you sure you want to, you know, go through all this hassle?".
I was so ashamed.
Immediately, I wanted to forget the claustrophobia and weird coloured flooring and rather small bathrooms and just buy the house....to somehow make their lives easier.
I wonder if they realize how much of an effect they've had on me. How they completely erased the selfish, stupid notions I'd been nursing. I wanted a hatch to sit and read the Vienna Prelude, he wanted to make mobility for his sick wife easier.
I was so ashamed.
But you know what? It's things like this that I live for. Moments that show you your shortcomings and help you to expand your humanity. I firmly believe that other people only exist in the world to help you become a better person. And likewise, you exist only to help other people improve.
Oh.
And just so you know, they did have a white puppy. Irony? No, my friend, that's God.
That was the real estate agent telling my mom that the beautiful house down the street we're hoping to buy might JUST fall into the hands of M and W Lastname.
A vision of a snotty young couple with an inky fingered four year fills my mind. They'd stop with one child, because it would spoil their idyllic lives. They'd both be lawyers and have a nanny, with maybe a white Pomeranian puppy to keep their bored, sculpted and perfect child company.
Don't ask why.
Maybe it was the house itself, the beauty of the settings, the way the mystic passageways tunnelled around the house, the little hatch in the attic where I could see myself sitting and reading...that made me so worried, defensive and judgemental.
"Hey. If you ARE looking for a big house, why don't you check out M and W's? Its...god, it's big. I mean, that is one MASSIVE house, Dr. Kumar. If you want, I could give them a call."
My dad said yes. Internally, I screamed NO, because, good lord, we SO weren't going to make it easier for them to take MY house! NO! What's wrong with you?! And for chrissake, the street's name is DUGDALE avenue! WHO THE HELL WOULD WANT TO LIVE ON DUGDALE AVENUE?! I'll Dug your dale avenue!!!!!
BUUUT, this IS a business, and we were just customers, so we went along anyway.
Well, it WAS a big house.
I walked through the place with my sisters, being snotty and snide, with "No, the floors are the wrong colour." "Dude, how claustrophobic are those narrow PASSAGES?". "What is WITH all the rooms being connected, where's the privacy!". "The bathrooms are miniature, Shama would DIE!".
".....yeah, Dr. Patel's looking after her. She needs dialysis and so we're hoping for a smaller place. She just had that operation and...well....6 to 12 months, if we're...lucky."
I walked out of the house to this conversation and froze.
My upper-middle class lawyers were an elderly retired couple. The wife required dialysis because her aging kidneys just wouldn't function anymore. It was amazing how this devoted old man was willing to stand by his wife this way, and in the last 6 months of her life, try his hardest to make her life as comfortable as possible. He could have, and understandably so, gone, "But M...there isn't much time.....are you sure you want to, you know, go through all this hassle?".
I was so ashamed.
Immediately, I wanted to forget the claustrophobia and weird coloured flooring and rather small bathrooms and just buy the house....to somehow make their lives easier.
I wonder if they realize how much of an effect they've had on me. How they completely erased the selfish, stupid notions I'd been nursing. I wanted a hatch to sit and read the Vienna Prelude, he wanted to make mobility for his sick wife easier.
I was so ashamed.
But you know what? It's things like this that I live for. Moments that show you your shortcomings and help you to expand your humanity. I firmly believe that other people only exist in the world to help you become a better person. And likewise, you exist only to help other people improve.
Oh.
And just so you know, they did have a white puppy. Irony? No, my friend, that's God.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Just Because I've Already Named Our Kids, Doesn't Make Me Obsessive!
Ok.
I'm finally doing it.
A post that could well get me killed because it's a mean one.
I whine about these ALL THE TIME....but here, in black and white:
10 NAMES I'D NEVER, EVER, EVER IN A MILLION YEARS NAME MY SONS UNLESS FILLED WITH SUDDEN BURSTS OF MURDEROUS, SPITEFUL HATRED
1) George (except you, Clooney my darling. Come to think of it, Clooney is a stupid name too. Like Clowny. Pity you're such a beautiful man)
2) Stanley (hello, please, please beat me up! Please?!)
3) Eugene (reminds me of that little sad kid on Hey Arnold, the unfortunate, unattractive one?)
4) Milton (Hello, I'm Milton, watch my cool trick: *blends into the wallpaper*)
5) Maurice (Lonely 86-year-old seeking female companion. Or male companion. Or companion. Any companion. Any one at all. Anyone?)
6) Boris (It's like, Hi, I'm a fat Russian immigrant.)
7) Gene (I make non-funny jokes about genetics, and my pimples map the constellations!)
8) Jorgen (What's so GREAT about my name is it looks hot, but pronounced like Yurgin!)
9) Gordon (Not so bad, but imagine the horrible nicknames: Gordon the Gormless, Gorgon?)
10) Harry (Hello, I'm a stuck up British schoolboy with a bad haircut. Call me Harry! Or maybe Harr, because I'm so cool!)
and
10 NAMES MY SONS, THE SEXIEST, HOTTEST YOUNG LADS ON THE BLOCK, MAY WELL END UP SPORTING
1) Aidan
2) Zachary
3) Julian
4) Caleb
5) Alexander
6) Aaron
7) Nicholas
8) Jordan
9) Ryan
10) Adrian
No commentary, because I was too overcome with the ultimate uber-hotness of the above fabulous monikers that I couldn't even come up with anything of my usually genius wit. So therefore, words are now spilling incoherently out of my rather large mouth, but then again, what's new?
You see, Jester?! We don't talk very often, but I'd name our kids well!! CALL ME!!!
I'm finally doing it.
A post that could well get me killed because it's a mean one.
I whine about these ALL THE TIME....but here, in black and white:
10 NAMES I'D NEVER, EVER, EVER IN A MILLION YEARS NAME MY SONS UNLESS FILLED WITH SUDDEN BURSTS OF MURDEROUS, SPITEFUL HATRED
1) George (except you, Clooney my darling. Come to think of it, Clooney is a stupid name too. Like Clowny. Pity you're such a beautiful man)
2) Stanley (hello, please, please beat me up! Please?!)
3) Eugene (reminds me of that little sad kid on Hey Arnold, the unfortunate, unattractive one?)
4) Milton (Hello, I'm Milton, watch my cool trick: *blends into the wallpaper*)
5) Maurice (Lonely 86-year-old seeking female companion. Or male companion. Or companion. Any companion. Any one at all. Anyone?)
6) Boris (It's like, Hi, I'm a fat Russian immigrant.)
7) Gene (I make non-funny jokes about genetics, and my pimples map the constellations!)
8) Jorgen (What's so GREAT about my name is it looks hot, but pronounced like Yurgin!)
9) Gordon (Not so bad, but imagine the horrible nicknames: Gordon the Gormless, Gorgon?)
10) Harry (Hello, I'm a stuck up British schoolboy with a bad haircut. Call me Harry! Or maybe Harr, because I'm so cool!)
and
10 NAMES MY SONS, THE SEXIEST, HOTTEST YOUNG LADS ON THE BLOCK, MAY WELL END UP SPORTING
1) Aidan
2) Zachary
3) Julian
4) Caleb
5) Alexander
6) Aaron
7) Nicholas
8) Jordan
9) Ryan
10) Adrian
No commentary, because I was too overcome with the ultimate uber-hotness of the above fabulous monikers that I couldn't even come up with anything of my usually genius wit. So therefore, words are now spilling incoherently out of my rather large mouth, but then again, what's new?
You see, Jester?! We don't talk very often, but I'd name our kids well!! CALL ME!!!
Monday, July 17, 2006
Because of You
NOTE!!!
Now, I'm WARNING you because I love you (no, that's a lie, its because I don't want you to think I'm freakretarded and weird and then hate me), this is ONE HELL of an emo post. As in the whole rip-my-bleeding-heart-from-my-body-and-wave-it-pulsating-in-your-face kind of post. You have been adequately warned!!
And secondly, to the brave few who actually DO read this, don't worry. I'm OK. This was a post that begged to be written a long time ago. And plus, most of you knew this already.
And I'll most likely be taking this down because of its delicate nature. But if you DO happen to catch it in time, I really am (or at least will be), OK, so don't worry :)
One more thing: The people in question...this is a direct attack, and it is thinly veiled. This IS, however, only one aspect of their personalities and to deny the fact that they've implemented my life in so many positive ways would be a disgusting display of ungratefulness. But everything written below is something I've personally felt at one point or another, and none of it is made up or exaggerated. Just so you know :)
If I can only ever look at myself in the mirror sideways, it is because of you.
If I feel 10 units of guilt for every one unit of chocolate I eat, it is because of you.
If I constantly get "Aren't you kind of young to be here?" when I go to the gym, it is because of you.
If I allow my body weight in the morning to determine how the rest of my day goes, it is because of you.
If I am afraid to wear something remotely fitting because I'm scared all people will see are my awful contours, it is because of you.
If I can tell you the exact caloric difference between oatmeal WITH bran and oatmeal WITHOUT bran, it is because of you.
If I look at someone I don't know on the street and automatically profile them according to their weight, it is because of you.
If I can be made to feel ashamed or guilty for someone else's long past actions, it is because of you.
Now, I'm WARNING you because I love you (no, that's a lie, its because I don't want you to think I'm freakretarded and weird and then hate me), this is ONE HELL of an emo post. As in the whole rip-my-bleeding-heart-from-my-body-and-wave-it-pulsating-in-your-face kind of post. You have been adequately warned!!
And secondly, to the brave few who actually DO read this, don't worry. I'm OK. This was a post that begged to be written a long time ago. And plus, most of you knew this already.
And I'll most likely be taking this down because of its delicate nature. But if you DO happen to catch it in time, I really am (or at least will be), OK, so don't worry :)
One more thing: The people in question...this is a direct attack, and it is thinly veiled. This IS, however, only one aspect of their personalities and to deny the fact that they've implemented my life in so many positive ways would be a disgusting display of ungratefulness. But everything written below is something I've personally felt at one point or another, and none of it is made up or exaggerated. Just so you know :)
If I can only ever look at myself in the mirror sideways, it is because of you.
If I feel 10 units of guilt for every one unit of chocolate I eat, it is because of you.
If I constantly get "Aren't you kind of young to be here?" when I go to the gym, it is because of you.
If I allow my body weight in the morning to determine how the rest of my day goes, it is because of you.
If I am afraid to wear something remotely fitting because I'm scared all people will see are my awful contours, it is because of you.
If I can tell you the exact caloric difference between oatmeal WITH bran and oatmeal WITHOUT bran, it is because of you.
If I look at someone I don't know on the street and automatically profile them according to their weight, it is because of you.
If I can be made to feel ashamed or guilty for someone else's long past actions, it is because of you.
If I know more about passive aggression than anyone else my age, it is because of you.
If I have an extremely high mental capacity but I find I don't want it any more because I can remember EVERYTHING YOU SAID, it is because of you.
If I can feel bitterly envious of the people closest to me simply because they're thinner, it is because of you.
If, despite the strength of mind I KNOW I possess, I ever turn out with an eating disorder, it is because of you.
If one question EVERY SINGLE ONE of my friends can remember me asking them is "Are you sure I'm not fat?", it is because of you.
If I know the difference between Atkins, Appeton, Cambridge, General Motors, Fruits Only and Optifast, from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE, it is because of you.
If I end up healthy-looking on the outside, but screwed up on the inside, KNOW THIS, GODDAMNIT, KNOW THIS: IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU.
If I have an extremely high mental capacity but I find I don't want it any more because I can remember EVERYTHING YOU SAID, it is because of you.
If I can feel bitterly envious of the people closest to me simply because they're thinner, it is because of you.
If, despite the strength of mind I KNOW I possess, I ever turn out with an eating disorder, it is because of you.
If one question EVERY SINGLE ONE of my friends can remember me asking them is "Are you sure I'm not fat?", it is because of you.
If I know the difference between Atkins, Appeton, Cambridge, General Motors, Fruits Only and Optifast, from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE, it is because of you.
If I end up healthy-looking on the outside, but screwed up on the inside, KNOW THIS, GODDAMNIT, KNOW THIS: IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Oh, SanaBanana, You Genius Word Maker, You!!!
PREEEEESSSSENNNNNNNTINGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!
SANA BANANA'S BRAND NEW WORD!!!!!!
Er.
Ok.
Somehow, that seems kind of anticlimactic. I HAVE to learn how to build up suspense properly instead of blundering along straight to the point.
Ok. Let's think how to RECTIFY this now, let's think good and hard.
I, OF COURSE, BEING A GENIUS, HAVE FIGURED IT OUT!!!
You're going to pretend that I'm actually a lot funnier and smarter than I really am, and somehow, force yourself to believe it. You will then feed this load of crap to all your friends, so that they TOO will be under the impression that I'm really NOT a basket case.
SEE WHAT GENIUS PLANS I CREATE?!
Of course you do.
Getting to the point, this is actually a blog about why leaving meaningless tags on every webbie you go to can actually be BENEFICIAL in some way.
To yourself, I mean. We all know the world pines for my hilariously, astonishingly witty repartee, that I leave in disgustingly huge quantities on people's tagboards.
But at times, being such a cleverly cleverclev DOES get irritating, and self-gain is REQUIRED to allow one to make sense of one's empty, pathetic, blog-hunting and taggering existence.
For all of you who currently wonder what in the name of almighty SFUFF I am lunatically ranting about.....
I made a new word and it sprung to my immensely large brain while leaving a tag at Chocolatte, which I ALSO recently bared my hole-filled soul at.
End of story, and I DID try to drag it out for as long as possible but I kind of got lost half way.
Remember what we talked about earlier, about you pretending that I rock your socks? Yeah, let's keep on with that.
WITH THAT, I GIVE YOU:
kadootzie - defn: The rear end. Le derriere. Ze buttocks. Whatever way you choose to spin in, FROM NOW ON, you shall be forced, of course, to copycat my masterstroke of linguistic INTELLIGIOSITY.
Thus, with this entry, I introduce you, O Young Kadootzie, to the likes of Sfuff, MatMat, Meh?, Squee, Meaahaah, Shizelle and her cousin Crapizzelle, Ortokay and, finally, Squck, your siblings in the new, scary world of Sanaspeak. Yes, I know. You are dazzled at the cleverness and creativity of the name. What can I say, people, it's a gift granted to few.
Am I high?
No. I'd LOVE to say I am, because people seem to excuse sheer, seamless idiocy rather well when told that a person is mentally skewered.
I, however, am proud to announce that this sudden blast of moron comes straight from within the very folds of my black, stone heart.
Plus, I'm not cool enough to be high.
:( Now you've depressed me. I hate you.
Go make yourself useful and comment.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a complete and total NONSENSE post and if you were brave, stupid or dotingly loyal enough to read it, kudos to you and kindly consult a shrink immediately. The author promises she'll be back with more soul-bearing, self-validating, whinefest material soon.
Currently though, she's dealing with three big assignments that need finishing. Physics, I hope you die a slow, painful, murderous, truly EXCRUCIATING DEATH
With that pleasant sentiment, kindly do not hate me and realize that AT TIMES, even Sana can be normal.
Toodles!
SANA BANANA'S BRAND NEW WORD!!!!!!
Er.
Ok.
Somehow, that seems kind of anticlimactic. I HAVE to learn how to build up suspense properly instead of blundering along straight to the point.
Ok. Let's think how to RECTIFY this now, let's think good and hard.
I, OF COURSE, BEING A GENIUS, HAVE FIGURED IT OUT!!!
You're going to pretend that I'm actually a lot funnier and smarter than I really am, and somehow, force yourself to believe it. You will then feed this load of crap to all your friends, so that they TOO will be under the impression that I'm really NOT a basket case.
SEE WHAT GENIUS PLANS I CREATE?!
Of course you do.
Getting to the point, this is actually a blog about why leaving meaningless tags on every webbie you go to can actually be BENEFICIAL in some way.
To yourself, I mean. We all know the world pines for my hilariously, astonishingly witty repartee, that I leave in disgustingly huge quantities on people's tagboards.
But at times, being such a cleverly cleverclev DOES get irritating, and self-gain is REQUIRED to allow one to make sense of one's empty, pathetic, blog-hunting and taggering existence.
For all of you who currently wonder what in the name of almighty SFUFF I am lunatically ranting about.....
I made a new word and it sprung to my immensely large brain while leaving a tag at Chocolatte, which I ALSO recently bared my hole-filled soul at.
End of story, and I DID try to drag it out for as long as possible but I kind of got lost half way.
Remember what we talked about earlier, about you pretending that I rock your socks? Yeah, let's keep on with that.
WITH THAT, I GIVE YOU:
kadootzie - defn: The rear end. Le derriere. Ze buttocks. Whatever way you choose to spin in, FROM NOW ON, you shall be forced, of course, to copycat my masterstroke of linguistic INTELLIGIOSITY.
Thus, with this entry, I introduce you, O Young Kadootzie, to the likes of Sfuff, MatMat, Meh?, Squee, Meaahaah, Shizelle and her cousin Crapizzelle, Ortokay and, finally, Squck, your siblings in the new, scary world of Sanaspeak. Yes, I know. You are dazzled at the cleverness and creativity of the name. What can I say, people, it's a gift granted to few.
Am I high?
No. I'd LOVE to say I am, because people seem to excuse sheer, seamless idiocy rather well when told that a person is mentally skewered.
I, however, am proud to announce that this sudden blast of moron comes straight from within the very folds of my black, stone heart.
Plus, I'm not cool enough to be high.
:( Now you've depressed me. I hate you.
Go make yourself useful and comment.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a complete and total NONSENSE post and if you were brave, stupid or dotingly loyal enough to read it, kudos to you and kindly consult a shrink immediately. The author promises she'll be back with more soul-bearing, self-validating, whinefest material soon.
Currently though, she's dealing with three big assignments that need finishing. Physics, I hope you die a slow, painful, murderous, truly EXCRUCIATING DEATH
With that pleasant sentiment, kindly do not hate me and realize that AT TIMES, even Sana can be normal.
Toodles!
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Perfect
She pushed back the soft, wavy brown hair, twisted it and gently slid in the plain silver clip. She looked lovely and she knew it. Standing to her full height, not too tall or short, she twirled with her ballerina's grace and turned to face her twin in the mirror.
Don't even get her started on the dress. She'd made it herself, and it looked fabulous on her. A soft, powdery blue with iridiscent beads and an empire waist, it emphasized her soft curves. She had never been fat, or even skinny. In fact, the only word ever used to describe her figure had been "perfect".
And perfect she was. Tonight, she'd be picking up, she knew, not only Prom Queen, but most likely best dressed, best smile and best couple. And even if she didn't, she knew that it would only be because they couldn't give it all to one person. That had been why she'd gained Dux of the School and Outward Bound Girl 2006, but lost the sports title to Suckup Stacy. That stupid b***ch, they only gave her the title because her loser mother was staff.
But no, she didn't use words like "b**ch", she was a lady. And it didn't matter anyway, Suckup Stacy wasn't getting anywhere. Not if she could help it anyway.
Best couple? Of course!! Her and Andrew had been the class couple voted most likely to succeed...and she knew she was going to marry him. Truth be told, though, he was getting a little bit clingy....she didn't know if she had the same control over him she once did. But she couldn't let everyone down.
NOT that she cared what they thought!!!! They were just pawns, after all. Andrew and her WOULD work things out, she was sure. She was always sure.
And then, when they were married, she'd have four beautiful children, two girls and two boys. Aahhh, she could see it now. Her two girls, with normal, gorgeous names that were still unique (Honey and Scarlet), would be head cheerleaders and ballet dancers, as well as play the violin and piano, just like her. They'd be valedictorians and prom queens, and they'd dress in soft pink to flatter the perfect figures she was sure they'd sport.
As for her sons, Jordan and Zach, they'd be pro footballers, but still manage to play the guitar and drums, and they'd be handsome and never be without dates. They'd be buff and muscular without looking like those greasy pansy born-of-steroid losers on WWE, and they'd both, of course, end up doctors.
Or scientists. Or with NASA! Or Microsoft!
She could see the possibilities now. Oh yes, she'd end up with the perfect family.
That would show all of them. All of them that dared say she'd never be happy. All of them that said she was too high strung, too, they dared say, perfect.
Hah.
There was no such thing, and she was proving it!
They'd all live together, happily ever after.
And here's the punchline:
None of them would actually be happy.
Don't even get her started on the dress. She'd made it herself, and it looked fabulous on her. A soft, powdery blue with iridiscent beads and an empire waist, it emphasized her soft curves. She had never been fat, or even skinny. In fact, the only word ever used to describe her figure had been "perfect".
And perfect she was. Tonight, she'd be picking up, she knew, not only Prom Queen, but most likely best dressed, best smile and best couple. And even if she didn't, she knew that it would only be because they couldn't give it all to one person. That had been why she'd gained Dux of the School and Outward Bound Girl 2006, but lost the sports title to Suckup Stacy. That stupid b***ch, they only gave her the title because her loser mother was staff.
But no, she didn't use words like "b**ch", she was a lady. And it didn't matter anyway, Suckup Stacy wasn't getting anywhere. Not if she could help it anyway.
Best couple? Of course!! Her and Andrew had been the class couple voted most likely to succeed...and she knew she was going to marry him. Truth be told, though, he was getting a little bit clingy....she didn't know if she had the same control over him she once did. But she couldn't let everyone down.
NOT that she cared what they thought!!!! They were just pawns, after all. Andrew and her WOULD work things out, she was sure. She was always sure.
And then, when they were married, she'd have four beautiful children, two girls and two boys. Aahhh, she could see it now. Her two girls, with normal, gorgeous names that were still unique (Honey and Scarlet), would be head cheerleaders and ballet dancers, as well as play the violin and piano, just like her. They'd be valedictorians and prom queens, and they'd dress in soft pink to flatter the perfect figures she was sure they'd sport.
As for her sons, Jordan and Zach, they'd be pro footballers, but still manage to play the guitar and drums, and they'd be handsome and never be without dates. They'd be buff and muscular without looking like those greasy pansy born-of-steroid losers on WWE, and they'd both, of course, end up doctors.
Or scientists. Or with NASA! Or Microsoft!
She could see the possibilities now. Oh yes, she'd end up with the perfect family.
That would show all of them. All of them that dared say she'd never be happy. All of them that said she was too high strung, too, they dared say, perfect.
Hah.
There was no such thing, and she was proving it!
They'd all live together, happily ever after.
And here's the punchline:
None of them would actually be happy.