It's me...SusanVee

"Who are you and what have you done with SusanVee?" If I had a dime for every time I've heard that question in the past three months, I would buy that Ipod Mini without so much as a flinch! This seems to be the question lingering on a few inquiring minds.

I admit, I have been doing some strange things lately, such as emailing salad recipes, opting to drink water when coke is available, and running 3 times a week!!! Indeed, this is not my normal behavior.

My cousin Lisa makes the best dern desserts on this side of the Mississippi...but before I was allowed to eat her dessert, I was forced to eat dinner, which included veggie lasagna and various other healthy based dinners. This would make me cringe. She and I were raised in polar opposite environments. I remember her mom making broccoli as a side dish for every meal we ever ate. Ding dongs were the side dish at my house. If we were lucky, it was served up with a can of ravioli. Mmm...mmm good. She grew up hating fast food. I grew up thinking it was fine dining. She stayed true to the lessons learned in childhood...like vegetable are important. But, so did I...dingdongs are invaluable!! So imagine her shock and dismay when I emailed her a recipe for spinach artichoke salad topped with fresh raspberries and light raspberry dressing!!!

The sound of coke as it pops and fizzles when poured over ice is the most beautiful sound...very much comparable to that of a baby's first cry....NAH, it's actually better! I can't even remember when the last time I partook in the joy of sipping on a nice cold one. I remember during our trip to Mexico, I went through a 24 hour span with out coke and felt so ill. Then I found out that the market on the corner sold 2 liters. My eyes dazzled like diamonds when my friend handed me one and I could feel the cool of the bottle against my hot flesh. My hands were trembling as I grabbed it from his and I clung to it protectively against my chest. So imagine Sheryl's shock when I told her that I kicked the habit and opted for water when Coke was available!!!

I've always went walking, but I have a severe case of the shin splints, so to think of running was BEYOND me. This is why I initially opted for biking. I'm not one who is really good at moving, so many people thought that this might be a bad idea considering my lack of coordination. Lord knows, I can't dance. When all my cousins get out on the dance floor and jam to our favorite 70's retro, I stand in the middle of them and take pictures. When they discuss trips to ski, hike, etc...I vote to stay at home. Running is way more movement than I am used to.

I'm not sure why the sudden changes are occurring. I'm not a head strong, determined person, so this is really quite unexplainable. However, one thing is for certain...I'm still the same old SusanVee. Be assured that I still talk too much, have random thoughts, know every word to 70's music that was made way before i was born, and my first love will always be Johnny Carino's Chocolate Cake....some things are just way too good to forget. I think I was just ready for a change. I'm tired of my sweaters, (RIP Black sweater that has been missing since January), looking pregnant in saris, and being identified as "the chubby girl." Most importantly, this gives me a sense of control in my uncontrollable life.

Cat...it's what's for lunch!

A friend and I were talking about "breakfast" today. I know, it's a random topic of conversation, but I'm known for discussing random things. Every morning I see this woman go down to the cafeteria and come back up with two slices of bacon and a piece of toast. She eats this daily without fail. I think what is most annoying is the fact that she's SKINNY! Anyway, finally, today I just had to ask her. "Do you ever get tired of eating bacon?"

She looked at me as if this was an odd question. "Why? Do you smell it?" I assured her that the stank of frying pig flesh is more like a scintilating aroma to me. After which, she told me that she loves bacon and could never get tired of it. "I've been eating bacon every morning for the past 20 years." I stared down at my cup of oatmeal and imagined eating it daily for 20 years. I could handle that. I just can't handle eating it HERE for 20 years. I told her that I've been eating oatmeal every day for 3 months and haven't gotten tired of it yet either. Infact, it's almost just the opposite. I have a strange emotional attachment to my oatmeal. I don't eat it on the weekends, but on the weekdays, there's just something wholesome and comforting about it. *yes, I'm aware of the fact that I'm strange* I've done the same ritual breakfast thing throughout my life. From kindergarden to highschool it was dingdongs, throughout high school it was a sausage biscuits, and in college it was an otis spunkmeyer blueberry muffins. ( which my cousin Lisa vowed was fat free and I so stupidly believed her since I thought she was the smartest person after God.) And you wonder why I'm having to lose SIXTY pounds now?!

So this oatmeal/bacon conversation brought me to my next realization/question. Why is it that people can eat the same breakfast every day for the rest of their lives, but not the same lunch or dinner? Seriously...that's really strange. Let's take me for example. I can eat a "Smart One" (frozen food) for lunch for 3-4 days out of the week since it has a wide variety of different entrees. However on the 5th day, the whole appeal of frozen food leaves me. I start to mentally psyche myself out. Like today for instance, I heated up the entree, took a bite of the beef in the stirfry and thought it tasted like cat. Not that I know what cat tastes like. But whatever that meat was...it wasn't beef. I threw the entire thing away and now look forward to the 1 o'clock hour so I can blow this joint and go have a sub. And dinner? Forget about it...it's even worse. If I have leftovers for more than 2 days, I start to feel sorry for myself...like I'm some starving, malnutriouned kid.

So, the fact that we can eat the same breakfast on a daily basis PROVES that we could eat the same lunch and dinner...but it's all mind over matter. Now that I've gotten this all off my chest...let me go get a drink so I can get the taste of cat off my tongue! =)

I See Red...

I find myself a little bit irate today. My blood is boiling and I see red. I've heard that publishing companies, in general, don't do such a hot job in marketing and promoting books. This is something that makes very little sense to me. Shouldn't they put money and effort into marketing books since this is the key ingredient in selling books, which is the way these people make money?? You'd think, but apparently not.

Last week I got an ANNOYING email from the marketing person of my publishing company. Keep in mind, my publisher is small. They have 200 authors and ONE marketing person!! Nevertheless, this is not my problem. I'm not going to excuse her for incompetencies just because she's overworked. Maybe she needs to let the higher-ups know, so they can hire someone else...LIKE ME! I have no marketing degree, however I think I could handle the job quite well, since I've pretty much taken it on PLUS my current full time job for the past year! Back to the anoying email...In this email, the marketing director so GRACIOUSLY notified the authors that we get a WHOPPING 50$ off our OWN books when we order 100 books or more.

THAT is just lovely. Thank you for taking 5 minutes of your day to write an email to sell ME my OWN book...since you're not selling it to anyone else!!! This was the first thing that agitated me. Second thing occurred when I was roaming through Barnes and Noble on Saturday afternoon...and saw a flyer for the Oklahoma Book Festival , which takes place next weekend..."over 60 national and LOCAL authors will be available to sign books." What?!? It sure would have been nice to be made aware of this event. Now, if my publisher was in NY...I wouldn't expect them to know about this event. But they're in OKLAHOMA! ...and this is a BIG event.

So after I inhaled and exhaled five times and calmed myself down. I contacted the people at the festival to see if it's too late for me to take part in it. I'm anxiously awaiting some sort of response. Afterwards, I decided I had to voice my frustration to my publisher. So, I wrote the marketing person. To which, she responded that she didn't know about the event, and can't stay on top of everything because she has 200 authors to represent, yet she understands my "frustration", however she asked me to mail her a list of contacts (TV, radio, newspapers, bookstores) for her to send press releases too, and I had not done that as of yet.

WHAT? EXCUSE ME??? Thank God I save all emails from these people! I quickly copy and pasted my email that I sent to her in September of 2004!!!!!!!!!! Finally, she apologizes and has the nerve to ask ME if SHE has contacted them. To which I reply "if you're asking me, then I'm going to have to guess NO." She then emails me back saying "since neither of us can remember I'll go ahead and contact them." I'm sorry, it's not my JOB to remember...it's yours! How are you going to forget something like this? Don't you have a file on each author? Copies of your work??? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! So now a year later!!...I'm back to the basics on this book.

Why is it that people like this have great jobs and an office with a view? And people like me drudge to work every day?

Sue's Soapbox...

I had a conversation the other day about prejudice. I've always been taught that prejudice stemmed from ignorance. I guess it just shocks me how ignorant people come in all varieties. It doesn't always mean uneducated or uncivilized. I know many ignorant people that hold multiple degrees, earn six figures, use 10$ words, but spout off pure ignorance.

I'm not trying to bash my own people or use blanket statements that group us all into one neat, ignorant package. But, many Malayalees are guilty of being elitists. They seem to think that only Malus are educated, have family values, are religious, and culturally aware. I used to think it was just the older generation, but sadly enough I see the ugly head of ignorance raising its' head among my peers.

I think what bothers me most is Malayalee churches. By definition, a church is the hands and feet of God. This means a church should go where Christ would go and do what Christ would do. However how many of our churches are equipped to minister to any random non-malayalee person that walks through the door searching for truth? Sadly, I think most churches would not be able to meet that person's needs. We send missions teams to various countries, homeless shelters, and city missions to minister and "plant seeds" as if that is enough. What about cultivation? Who takes care of these people after our week stay or one hour visit? What are these ministerial outings really about? Are they to meet the needs of the people or are they to satisfy our own needs and perhaps ease guilt? If a church is located within a community it MUST meet the needs of that community, not just the Malayalee community. When we get to heaven, it's not going to be a sea brown...it will be a sea of colorful hands raised in unity.

It bugs me when I hear people say, I don't know how to talk to "white people"...or i can't be close to someone who's not malayalee. Good Lord, step outta the box!!! The world is so diverse, and you're only experiencing an itsy bitsy portion of it. It's fine to relate more to people who were raised the same way you were...but you never know how much you have in common with someone until you communicate with them. Clearly...I'm on my soapbox...and I will now officially step off. I just needed to vent, and now I feel better!

I'm telling you...It's a crap conspiracy!!! I'm notifying my local authorities!  

Geez, this stinks!...

I don't know if I've just become overly observant, or if there is truly a problem in the world today. I've noticed lately that everywhere I go, I see crap. I'm not sure if it's bird crap, dog crap, frog crap, squirrel crap, or other unknown creatures crap, but it's definitely crap. I went to the lake the other day, to the grassy part around the lighthouse and there was so much crap that you couldn't walk without carefully planning what step you should take next to thwart the enemy attack of the crap. Why are people so inconsiderate to walk their dogs around a high traffic area and then not have the common courtesy to bring a pooper scooper or something???

when I walk around the neighborhood, it's not so much a problem of dog crap. I guess dogs just crap on their own lawns, and I don't typically meander across other people's lawns. I think it's kind of rude to walk on grass. But, in the neighborhood I have to deal with bird crap. Now, typically bird crap only gets annoying when it's smeared on your windshield. But we have large geese in our neighborhood that drop a large load of CRAP on the sidewalks.

Seriously it's getting to a point where I'm thinking...WTF?!? Why is there crap everywhere I look/step??? This morning, I opened the garage, and as I was walking to my car, which is a mere 5 inches from my garage, I almost stepped on a huge frog turd. I got in my car and started to contemplate this situation on my drive to work. I've never noticed this much crap before. Is it just me? Does anyone else out there notice an increased amount of crap everywhere you look/step???

Maybe this is just a sign that I need to buy an Apple Ipod Shuffle, so I can concentrate on music at all times, which would perhaps make me too busy to notice such things. But, then I'd be oblivious to the crap...and might step into a problem!!

It's a "Good Thing"...

Yesterday, I discovered something that will change the course of my life forever. Yes, folks...I discovered bloglines. What a wonderful invention! I never knew you could go to one website and access all your favorite blogs...or learn when all of your favorite bloggers have a new post. Indeed, as Martha would say..."it's a good thing." Thank you to Mr. Old Ooch for showing me that things like this existed...and thank you to Ms. Scorpsy for convincing me that even an idiot like me could figure it out.

In my best attempt at being a good citizen, I passed along the wealth of information that was given to me. I immediately contacted one Ms. Sunu K to tell her about bloglines. I knew that this would be an answer to her prayers. As fellow floblos, we all read each others "stuff" out of common floblo courtesy. I mean we are all of the same weird "kind"...however Sunu is the most dedicated floblo reader that I know. If given a quiz, about our floblos, I'm quite sure she would know every answer. In fact, that might make for an interesting conversation after church this Sunday. Anyhoo...I thought she deserved a way to minimize the time she wastes...err, I mean devotes to us. =)

Happy Cinco De Mayo...

In keeping with the theme today..."Cinco De Mayo"...I thought I would discuss my affinity for Hispanic culture. I'm not sure when this began. Perhaps it was back in Chicago when I was in Mrs. Weingarten's kindergarten class. It was there that I met Melinda Mendez. She was a little hispanic girl, and we were the best of friends. For some reason, I was just captivated by their culture. I had a wild imagination back then (that still exists), and I vividly remember talking to my stuffed bear in an unknown tongue, which I deemed as Spanish.

In college, I studied Spanish literature. This was completely intriguing to me. They intertwine their deep-seeded belief in mysticism with their fiction and come up the most amazing tales. Some of my absolute favorite writers are Laura Esquivel, Pablo Neruda, Clarice Lispector, Octavio Paz, and Isabel Allende. Laura Esquivel takes the highest ranking honor with her brilliant novel "Like Water for Chocolate." I loved that book so much that I took it in the bathtub with me because I couldn't put it down. I ended up dropping it in and blow drying it for hours just so I could keep reading it.

My love for the Hispanic culture can be seen in my own novel..with the inclusion of the ever-so-wonderful Carlos. If only he was real! Blah. If only I knew more then about Spanish culture to include more. I think my mission trip to Mexico topped it all off . I have become even more fascinated with the language and culture since then. Sometimes I just watch the Spanish channel...just to hear them speak. I can pick up a few words here and there and I just smile from ear to ear. Today, a group from our Latin American division was visiting the states. My friend who works in that division stopped to introduce me to all of them. You would have thought I was meeting royalty by the way I was smiling. As I walked away...I heard her tell them I went on a mission trip to Mexico and helped the children there. I was so excited that I could pick up that much Spanish to understand her!

I plan to live out this Spanish fascination by taking Spanish classes...perhaps this summer, if not in the fall. Then, I will use my Spanish Speaking abilities to go where God leads me. Somehow, I don't think this kind of love was placed in my heart for these people for no reason. We'll just wait and see what happens! ;) Happy Cinco de Mayo!

In the midst of a legend...

I remember when I first moved to Oklahoma, Barry Switzer was the head football coach at OU. And a few years later, he had moved up to the NFL. My brother was/is/forever will be a huge Dallas Cowboy fan. He had posters of Switzer and scantily dressed "cowgirls" all over his room. I never understood/will understand football, so the Sooners/Cowboy craze is just beyond me.

However, I was kicking myself in the shin for forgetting my camera when Barry Switzer came to my desk this morning and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Barry Switzer." I was star struck. It was THE legend himself...talking to me...asking me for kleenex...ME!! My co-workers were just as mezmorized. "I feel like I'm walking on Holy ground!" one exclaimed.

I've worked at AF for 6 years, and to this day my brother thinks I work at Eckerd Drugs. (I worked there in college.) Actually maybe he assumes I work at a bank since I don't wear the Eckerd uniform anymore. God knows he thinks I'm too stupid to actually get promoted to store management. Regardless, he has no clue I work at AF or what AF stands for....so a part of me wishes I had my camera, so I could have taken Barry's pic (we're on first name basis after I lent him Kleenex) , so I could show my brother. Maybe...just maybe he would have been slightly impressed.

Confessions of a teenager's overbearing cousin...

"Susan Chechi, I feel sorry for your future children." This was the comment made by my 15-year-old cousin, Leslie as we drove to the mall yesterday in search of the perfect prom dress for her older sister. I love the fact that Ashley and Leslie are growing up because now I can rest in the passenger seat as one of them drives, I can make them run mindless errands for me, and they are old enough to watch more movies than just rated PG. These things make my life a lot easeir. However, it's difficult to actually see them growing up. It's almost painful. I still remember gagging as I attempted to change Ashley's diaper when she was 2 and peering at Les through the glass window of the Newborn Unit when she was born. So, it's just weird to accept the fact that they are both taller than me, (which means I have to look up to them if I don't wear heels), that guys talk to them and they talk to guys, and they wear more sophisticated clothes than I do.

I'm forever yelling at Leslie for wearing clothes that make her look older. She rolls her eyes, which is so typical of teenagers today. Bleh. But shopping for a prom dress for Ashley took the cake. How and why do these little girls fashions include plunging necklines, bare backs, and peak-a-boo mid-drifts?!? They should be banned from highschools everywhere! "This looks okay, right?" This was the question asked by Ash in reference to the gold beaded dress with a neckline that basically went down to her naval. Okay, maybe I exaggerate just a tad. But, I've never worn anything that shows so much cleavage in my 30 years of life! I looked at her mother waiting for outrage. "It's okay," my aunt shrugged. I was outraged. This was sheer lunacy. I grabbed Ash by the shoulder and spun her around to reveal her bare back. Finally, my aunt gave the appropriate answer. "No, mola." Thank Heavens!

I think both girls were ready to escort me home in a straight jacket and muzzle by the end of the night. Ash did find a pretty dress...that I somewhat approve of. It's a lovely shade of green with silver beadwork. Of course it's strapless and shows a bit of cleave, but I guess I'll deal. However, I have taken it upon myself to find her a nice shawl that will cover her up a bit. ;)

Happy Birthday Ethan...

Ethan's mommy told me some very cute stories about him the other day...so I thought I'd share. Who doesn't love a cute baby story?? Last week his sister was born. Her name is Lauren, but he calls her "babysista." His daddy took him to the hospital to see his mama and the baby, and he was very apprehensive of the strange surroundings. He lingered in the doorway because he was scared to enter the room. Finally his Daddy said, "It's okay. You can come in." He very carefully crept into the room, looked around at all the strange equipment, and spotted his Mama in the bed, holding this new little creature. In his best Darth Vader voice he says, "Oooh, baa bee siss taa." How cute is this munchkin??

According to CCL, he's a very good big brother so far. He always asks, "How's babysista?" "Is babysista sick?" He's very concerned about her. He noticed that she's been "borrowing" some prized possessions...like his blankie. So, he had to point that out to his Mom. "That's Bubba's blanket, " he explained calmly. "I know it is, Bubba. Can babysista borrow it?" Mama asked. "Yesh," he replied sweetly.

Awwwwwwwwww. I just want to squeeze him. I could tell you Etha stories all day, but I won't. I'll just end here by saying...HAPPY 2ND BIRTHDAY, ETHA!

Bring your kids to work day...

It's bring your kids to work day here at the office of BC. 200 kids will be passing through to visit the big bad board room and give their suggestions on how to make AF a better place to work. As much as I think that kids are pesky for the most part, I must admit their ideas are ingenious! A free spa in the building that you could visit in order to unwind with out being penalized for? Who could ask for more?? Ahhh yes, if only these kids were in upper management.

Oh great...this kid is spazzing in front of my desk. He's gripping on to my desk for dear life and talking so loudly that my ear drums are rattling. Seriously oh my gosh...thank God he's not talking to me. Apparently, he fell out of a tree and now he can't go higher than a stump. (I don't think that's all that happened to him when he fell out of that tree) So being on the 7th floor is spazzin him out. So, he's too afraid to go in the board room where there are windows. Oh my gosh, this kid is like screaming about how he can't go higher than the 3rd floor because he has this fear he can't overcome. "7th floor is really like a challenge to me, and I don't want to be challenged...not today. not ever." I think this kid's mother needs a raise so she can get therapy for this child. Holy Cow...suddenly I remember why kids are annoying.

This day is going to be a challenging one to get through.

National Slave Appreciation Day...

Flowers for National Slave Appreciation Week 



Lookie what I found on my desk after lunch. Quite beautiful, I must say. It's nice to know you're appreciated sometimes.

You can do it...put yo back into it...

Lately something has gotten into me. I'm on this "activity" kick. Those of you who know me, know that I'm the most sedentary person known to man. My idea of activity is walking from the couch to the fridge. I'm not adventerous either. I enjoy keeping both feet firmly planted on the ground. A few years ago, I went jet skiing with my cousins. They were fighting over who had to ride with me. Poor Mikey, he got stuck with me and I commanded him not to go over 5 miles/hr. Of course, he disobeyed.

However, as of late I've been in this adventerous mode. It started with the purchase of my new bike. I know that doesn't sound very out-of-the-norm to most people. But, for me...it was monumentous. It meant that my feet weren't on the floor! I thought a leisurely bike would be perfect for me. But, now I'm kicking myself in the head for not getting a dirt bike. I heard the trails at Lake Hefner are perfect for extreme biking...and I have this urge to go check them out. But, Blue Thunder would never make it through!!

Secondly, I've been on this jogging kick. This coming from a girl who never even played tag in elementary because I didn't like to run. Let's just say that I'm sure there will be a lot of running in hell because that's how horrid it is. However, I'm determined to make this my new passion. At the moment, I can't walk very well, but I'm quite sure that eventually I'll get used to the pain. When I feel that I can't take one more step...I sing the Ice Cube song to myself.

To further prove my insanity, I have promised my friend and neighbor, the Illustrious Finuji that I would go to a spin class with her next week. If I don't make it out alive...Please know that I deeply cared for all of you.

I have no idea why I'm trying to kill myself like this. Maybe I'm trying to hold on to my youth. Funny that I'm only beginning to appreciate it now that it's almost over. =/

Spring get to know me survey...

1. What time did you get up this morning? 6:30 am

2. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Hitch...the white guy is so hot. u think i'm kidding? i'm so not.

4. What is your favorite TV show? Friends and any reality based TV show(s)

5. What did you have for breakfast? oatmeal with cinnamon

6. What is your middle name? Abraham...don't ask.

7. Favorite cuisine? Italian

8. What foods do you dislike? tomatoes

9. What is your favorite chip flavor? nacho cheese...doritioes, how I miss thee

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? cold play

11. What kind of car do you drive? 98 honda crv

12. Favorite sandwich? turkey with cheese/light mayo

13. What characteristic do you despise? Arrogance (me too, scorpsy)
14. Favorite item of clothing? my friggin black sweater that's been missing for 3 months. i know where u live sunu...and i WILL get it back

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Australia...I want to pet a koala.

16. What color is your bathroom? sea blue

17. Favorite brand of clothing? a great brand...it's called ATF (anything that fits)

18. Where would you retire to? san francisco

19. Favorite time of the day? 4:45...quittin time!

20. What was your most memorable birthday? 25th...I rocked the parties that year...I had 2 and felt vewy vewy special. And my 12th...it was my last with my pops and he gave me a Bible. =)

21. Where were you born? Chicao, Illinois

22. Favorite sport to watch? baseball...when Jeter's playing

23. Who do you least expect to send this back to you? I know better than send this to people

24. Person you expect to send it back first? If I actually sent it out...one of the flobo's

25. What fabric detergent do you use? Tide..spring scent
26. Favorite magazine? People

27.Favoritebeverage? coke on the rocks

29. Do you have any pets? no, but if i did...she'd be a blonde lab named Brooklyn

30. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with your family or friends? I went jogging for the first time in my life.

31. What did you want to be when you were little? a pediatrician. HA!

Letting go...

Since my dad died 18 years ago, I haven't had blind faith about anything in my life. That was the first and last time I excercised my faith muscle about anything. My mother told me to cry out to God and prayer because He'd never turn a deaf ear on a child's tears. I believed that whole heartedly, but my prayers weren't answered. As I grew up, I tried my best to get over the whole ordeal and move on by building my faith. But, try as I might, it just wasn't a hurdle I could jump.

Actually it took a toll on the faith of my whole family. We all became pessimistic and skepticism of the power of God ran through our blood. We continued to go to church and pray and live our lives as we should, but our prayers lacked the faith they so desperately needed. I've fearfully clung on to the "map of my life" for so long that my knuckles are white. But there comes a time you've just got to let go and let God. I've tried to figure out the route and direction of my life, but it makes no sense to me...because i'm not the mapmaker.

I've finally handed the map over to the maker. I let go and let God. and whether things work out soon...or whether I'm still going to have wait for things to make sense in my life...I'm just going to have faith. I have been blessed despite my faithlessness...how much more will He bless me now. =)

HELP! I've been bit by the BlueBug...

I'm feeling very blue today. And I have a few reasons why. For the past 2 months, we've had construction going on at the office of BC. At first, it was tres annoying listening to all the drilling and hammering and the babble of the construction workers. Until..I started getting somewhat attached to them. Mainly, the electricians. I mean, not only are these two guys super CUTE, they are sooooooooo nice. So, over the past few weeks we've bonded. And today, they walked into the office of BC for the last time to install the last light bulb. Before they left, one guy stops at my desk and says..."see you around out there." I never expected to feel sad...but I do. I told them that I'd try to break a light fixture, so they could come back. =/

Secondly, my BF's going to India today...for one whole long month. After she returns, she'll be home for a week (which will be wedding infested) and then head off to her new home in Florida. I thought I was prepared, but I guess I'm not because the blue bug hit me last night. I guess I need to make new friends or hang out more with the friends I currently have but don't regularly bond with. I see the next month being a very lonely one. =/

Above and Beyond Dreams or Imagination...

What a happy day for us floblo's to see our fellow flobo and friend has been officially proposed to. I like to ask married people how they knew their spouse was "the" one. In a world full of crazies...I'd like to know what I should look out for in regards to that "determining factor."

My BF #2, Dains once told me his determining factor, and I have used that as a standard in every aspect of my life. He told me that my BF #1, Sonia was above and beyond what he had ever imagined or dreamed for his life...and that's how he knew she was God's will for his life. You see, that's what God does...He sees our hopes and dreams...and He probably chuckles to Himself as He says, "I can give you so much more."

So, when Scorpsy used that same phrase "better than what I imagined or dreamed," I knew that she too had found the one God had chosen for her. That kind of love, commitment, and happiness encourages the rest of us. As a single sista...I have hope in God that one day, I can join my friends and say the same phrase...

But, I didn't even know how to drive in 1989!!!!

I hate dealing with cars. I wish I was one of those girls who weren't intimidated by car issues, but I am. I'm so intimidated that I pretend like nothing's wrong and drive around with my issues. I know, I know, that's just plain stupid. So now, I'm driving around with a cracked side view mirror, a cracked front window, dented hood, expired tag, and overdue oil change.

Trust me, I realize the severity. I get lectures from B all the time. Today, I plan to deal with car issues before a cop tows my car away....or it just stops in the middle of the highway. I also feel pretty damn ridiculous driving around in a hooptie...when my CRV is far from a hooptie. =/

I've been dreading today like the bubonic plague. I rather eat hot tar than go to a tag agency or the shop. Seriously, I had a nightmare about it last night...that they told me my car was so messed up it was irrepairable...and that I'd have to start shopping for a new one. I think I hate car stuff so much because it's never a simple task. When I go in for an oil change I always get bad news. "Ms. Varghese, you're vuluptoraptosphinxometer coil is broken, which causes the engine to overheat and form a combustulating fume that will cause your car to explode." LOVELY!...how much? "Just a mere 15,000.72." Aaaaah, I dread it. Then the tag agency will tell me "Ms. Varghese, it loos like back in 1989 you ran through a toll and the Pike Pass Agency will not allows us to renew your tag until you pay them the 10,000$ you owe them. Then since you owe them, we tack on a pike pass fee just to make sure you're punished for that run through in 1989, so your fee went from 86$ to 1086$." Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

It's times like this when I wish my pops were around...so I could rely on his male expertise. Bleh. But, I guess I'm a big girl now...and it's all on me. Wish me luck!!

A plea to my single sistas...

I'm not a feminist by any means. I tend to get a little sappy and sensitive at times. Everyone has their soft spots. But, one thing I don't believe in doing is wearing my heart on my sleeve. At 18, you don't know where alse to put it. At 25, you start to learn through your past heartaches. And by 30, you better have damn well mastered the art of guarding your heart.

It's mind boggling to me how women my age get all twisted over smooth talking, commitment-phobs. Five years ago, I'd have been right with them....all caught up in the dillusional thought of "I can change him." But these days, I know that if a guy is still an immature jackass at 25, he's going to be one at 55....and that ain't changin. There's more to life than a cute face, nice ass, and smooth lines. Sure, it feels great at the moment to get wined and dined...to feel like your the object of someone's affection...but when do you stop thinking about what feels good for the moment and think about your needs/desires for the future? What's more important?

Here's what I tell my galpals time and time again. DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME. Time is truly of the essence. And face it, if you're over 26 and an SIF (*single Indian female*), you've got no time to lose. So why why why get caught up in the game when you know he's a player? Grant it, I'm not the queen of advice...cuz God knows my wisdom and tactics have not landed me a man. But, I can honestly say, I've learned from my past. One heart break was enough. My heart is a fortress...and you have to be pretty damn special to unlock this door.

The power of prayer...

I had a rather introspective weekend. Lately, those are very prevelant. I decided to put things into perspective on Sunday. Church is a great place to gain perspective. As I sat there, waiting for some sort of divine providence, I continued reading the book of Mathew. I noticed several verses that I highlighted throughout the past weeks. They were jumping out at me like neon signs. I believe that at the time, I hilighted them thinking it was a reoccurring theme. In literature, they teach you to look out for reoccurring words, phrases, symbols, and themes because they are clues/signs that will help you understand/de-code the work.

The verses were regarding faith. In particular, about how God honors faith. Grant it, this is not ground-breaking, earth-shattering news. This is something that every Christian knows. But, to me it triggered an ugly thought that brought me to an epiphany, of sorts.

Saturday, I was driving down the road with a few people in my car. We were stopped at a stop light, where a woman was standing with a sign. She was homeless and needed food and/or money. Unfortunately, I wasn't of any use to her since I rarely tote around anything except a check card. So, I said, "Sorry, Lady...I can't help you with money, but I'll pray for you." (not that she could hear me) After which, I said a really quick prayer. A few moments later, the passenger in my car said, "not like your prayer is gonna help her any."

I was shocked and flabbergasted. Maybe I didn't hear the comment correctly. So, I asked for clarification. The passenger repeated the same comment and proceeded to tell me that prayers were like "wishing upon a star." I couldn't believe my ear! Then the passenger continued on by saying things like healings were merely the luck of the draw.

I was horrified by the comments and immediately began thinking of ways that I could help this person. Later that night, I decided that I'd invite the person to Wednesday night church with me and perhaps this would straighten out their train of thought.

But, Sunday as I thought about the hilighted verses in Mathew, I started to think that the person's comments were pretty much the same as my thoughts and actions. I have certain issues in my life that I've ceased praying about. In my mind, I've just given up. It seems to impossible. I realized that maybe I didn't come right out and say it, but I thought what the person said. And just 24 hours ago, I was totally judging them. At the time, when it was said...I thought in my mind that this person was an atheist. But...if someone were to inspect my thoughts and actions, I'd be an atheist too.

I realized at that moment that I do believe in the power of prayer. I do believe that faith moves mountains from your life. So, to stop praying about something is the dumbest thing I could possibly do. I need to flex my faith muscle, stop worrying about everyone else, and focus on what God can and will do in my life. I am inviting that person to church on Wednesdays, but not just so they can re-focus...but so I can too.

The Fruitless Search for Prince Charming...

The search for Prince Charming continues. I've taken myself out of the search for the past several months...pretty much a year. I found the whole process to be too taxing. Rejection isn't the best feeling in the world. But it wasn't just rejection, it was the fact that with every creep I met, I felt like the chances of finding a good guy was less and less possible.

Now that I'm back in the search, I wonder why I'm searching at all because nothing has changed. The game is still played the same way. Meet person, talk, send pic and either get denied or accepted, then talk again and realize he's a jackass. They can be seemingly perfect, and then bam!...one weird comment that lingers in your mind leads to the next weird comment that becomes substantial evidence of creepiness and then finally the last weird comment, which serves as the third strike. He's out! *sigh*

Seriously, I've forgotten what it feels like to connect with someone...to talk to someone and enjoy the conversation...Bleh.

Is lonliness so bad? Let's look at the good aspects of lonliness....no drama, you can do waht you want all the time....ok that's it. Let's look at the bad aspects...you have no one to come home to, you have no one to lean on, you have no one to share things with...ok it has already outnumbered the good...so I guess that answers my question.

Arghhhhhhhh, the search continues...

The baby rush...

Throughout the past five years, the vast majority of people I know have gotten married. It seems like this five year period can be classified as the marriage rush. Now, the baby rush is beginning. Every time I turn around I hear someone's pregnant or just had their baby. My cousin Lisa is due any day now...and Cousin Sue will be following in a month or two. It's been very cute to see those two toothpicks pudgy and pregnant at the same time. Y'day my first boss at AF announced that she too is having a baby. She's single and in her 40's, but her bundle of joy is coming to her via an adoption. She couldn't be happier. And then...I hear about Britney Spears!!!

At 30, you'd think my proverbial "clock" would be ticking. I think I've pulled out the batteries. When I'm with my friend Sherry and her two babies, I'm in awe of her patience. She never wanted to be a stay-at-home mom and now she's thriving in that role. I tell her that I seriously don't think I'm cut out for motherhood. Screaming kids would put me over the edge of insanity. I think being single for so long has made me self-centered. It's a bit scarey. When I graduated highschool at 17, I had my whole life planned out. I thought I'd be married by 25, start having kids, and then I'd stay home with my four kids and be a happy housewife. Now, I can't think of having more than one. Back then, I never thought about writing. I never knew what I really wanted to do.

Now, I look at life, and it is so utterly different than what I so naively expected it to be. It's really easy to ponder on the dreams of my past and feel sad about the things that weren't meant to be. But, I accept that sometimes what we want for our own lives don't align with what God wants for our lives. No matter how much I am tempted, I can't question Him on why I ended up differently than those who are closest to me. I just have to take the good with the bad...the happy with the sad...and trust taht God will reveal all His plans in His perfect time...and then, it will all make sense.

He's Ba-ack!

Uhhhh yeah thats nice, but yeah thats the reason i was yawning, ..... your
blogs are making me sleepy ...HAAAAAAAAAA.... Where's the drama filled
drama??? Spice up the blog with news of the i'll be damned or, some
observations of things you find interesting.... pics of some guy named
santhosh that i dont know dont thrill me..... he seems nice though and i'd
like to wish him a happy b-day too.

The dark prince is back...and even darker now that he got back from his cruise to Mexico. Obviously, I have sorely dissapointed him with my latest flogs and blogs. So indeed...I tried to spice things up for him.

My response to his above email: Listen Billy, I'm not writing blogs/flogs to impress you or anyone else. If they bore you, stop reading it. I'm so tired of everyone's bad attitudes. I don't need crap from you too! When you grow the hell up, email me. (I knew this would evoke a response)

Dark Prince: OMigod Soooo, i'm totally messing with you, ...yikes someone is in a mood today!!!!!! DANGG!!!!! you just totally tore my head off, while this hasnt
happened in a while, i feel mildly refreshed by your verbal tongue lashing.

Seriously dude, i was kidding, i know you dont cater to me, duh... chill
its me ... its billy.... .remember???


Does that make for some interesting reading?? BUAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Ode to the Shady...

I suck arss when it comes to writing poetry. But, this came to me when last night, when I was considering the shady. I thought I'd share...

Ode to the Shady

Colorful masks melt away… revealing dark expressions
Adding more pain to my cold, bleak world.

Loneliness is the darkness that surrounds me
Yet, saves me from bitter tongues.

Aching to find a pillar of strength.
Falling while resting upon weakened sustenance.

Yearning for things that I can not have
Searching for reasons why.

Stupidity strikes again...

When I was a kid, I fell off of my bike and into an ant bed, ran smack into a wall while running away from my sister (I have the scar till this day), and I sprayed deoderant in my hair instead of hairspray one morning when I was hurrying to get ready for the bus stop. But that's ok, because kids do dumb things. It's acceptable.

As I got older, the stupidity continued. I've worn skirts to work inside out, worn two different color/style shoes to school, worn two different HEELED shoes to work, slipped in ice and sprained my ankle, tripped on steps and fell into a door, ran into my bosses door because I was flabbergasted by his cuteness, choked on my spit whilts talking to my cute boss, got lost on my way to Dallas (although I used to live there and have been there a million times), got lost in my neighborhood...the list is endless.

Yesterday, stupidity struck again! i was riding my bike through the hood, and I stopped at the Illustrious Finuji's to see how her begonia's that we bought last weekend were growing. Fins always gets on to me about the clothes I wear while riding bikes. I guess I don't look sporty enough for her. So yesterday, I wore knit comfy pants and a tee. The pants were way long even after pulling it up to my boobs. But what's new? I'm a midget, so everything's always long. I stopped and admired her begonia's since she wasn't home and then got back on my bike. I didn't get too far because my long pants somehow had got twisted around the pedal of my bike and for the life of me, I couldn't pedal anymore. I stopped at a curb and tried to untwist myself, but it wasn't working and my foot was sorta just hanging of this pedal like a growth. With one leg I walked/hopped the bike back to finu's house (not that she was there to help me), but perhaps I could set myself free without the entire neighborhood seeing the spectacle that was occurring. Once in her driveway, i noticed the pant leg had somehow knotted around the pedal. I began to fear that I would have to ride the bike home pantless in order to be free from this mess. It was nearly impossible for me to bend, balance the bike and untie all at the same time.

However, I did escape from the horriffic mess, folded my pants to my knees and rode home.

My Inability to Say No...

How can a one syllable, two letter word be so difficult to say? How does such a little word have such big meaning attached? For me, saying "no" is a difficult task. It shouldn't be. God knows that if we repeat what we hear, I'd be saying no all the time. There's no end to how many times I've heard no....From when I was a wee lad (can I buy some candy?-NO)...to a teenager (can I go borrow the car?-NO)...to adulthood (will you marry me?-HELL NO) But, I've never been one to learn by example.

To me, no means rejection. I can't reject people! So, I say YES....all the time....even when I shouldn't. (Can you help me(which means write) with a paper?-YES) (Can you wash my car?-YES) (Can you type a 165 page paper?-YES) The last question would be my latest dilemma. I rue the day I ever said yes to this one. I've been up till 2 every night to finish this damn thing. I don't even take a lunch at work. Instead, I sit at my desk and type.

But, it's like the never ending paper! It was written by an uncle at my church, so on top of the grueling typing, I have to edit. My fingers throb from the sheer agony of touching the keyboard. I hate the sight of computers. I can't wait till the day that I'm free from this cancer that has been plaguing my life for the past 2 months. I can't wait to come home from work, watch reality TV, ride my bike while the Oklahoma wind whips through my hair, finish reading Roots (Where the hell IS that book?!?!), or even finally finish the scrapbooks for mexico that's taken me a year to make!

From the Mouth of a Jackass part Deuce

I typically refrain from calling someone a jackass at all cost. (unless it's Billy...then it just flows from my lips) However, yesterday...I was pretty certain about the guy I labeled as such. I guess I should have posted more of his correspondence, so you would be as convinced as I was. But alas...I angrily deleted the nonsense. But, I'll improvise:

Him: I'm sorry, I offended you. As christians, we shouldn't offend each other, but treat others well and forgive each other. Again, I didn't mean to offend you.

Me: I didn't respond...my thought process was...it's so funny how people screw up royally and then throw Christianity in to it afterwards. Were you thinking about it during when you said things like Indian-American authors are "milking the market"...Geez! But keep in mind, I didn't respond.

Him: By the way, it's not culture for a single girl to live with her mom. Maybe you should learn more about Indian culture.

Me: In my mind I was like...whoa...didn't he just apologize? He just said he knows he offended me. So, why is he throwing in one more jab?!? So..I just had to respond. I told him that I know what indian culture is and that maybe he should pick up my book for more information. in the book, the character doesn't understand Indian culture because her parents don't talk about art, literature, dance, music...all they talk about are the customs. So in her mind, custom and culture are one in the same. Only later does she understand what being an Indian is all about...and how to appreciate the culture. So then, I kindly told the guy not to write me again because I felt like he was an argumentative person...since he didn't try to understand my viewpoint (which was why he was bringing up the subject)...instead he attacked every single statement I made.

Him: he wrote me back anyways...saying I was too sensitive.

Me: rolled my eyes...spoken like a true Jackass!

Thank God for Miracles...

For weeks now, my heart has been really heavy about something...someone, actually. It's one of those situations when there's someone close to your heart and they disappear with out any rhyme or reason...but this time there was a reason, just not a valid one. It's happened to me on more than one occasion. It feels like someone knocked you in the gut...and stole your breath...because that's just how un-expected it was...how opposite of their character it was. But then you wonder...what is their character? Did I ever know them at all?

I thought about the situation daily...I don't think I voiced the severity of my remorse to anyone. Talking about it meant admitting that it actually happened. That once again, Sue let down her guard...the guard she worked hard to build up. The guard that was supposed to recognize any sign of shadyness by man or wo-man and blow it away to smitherines. The guard that's let me down time and time again.

At chuch, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I prayed that God would just remove the burden from my heart. I just want that "oh well" attitude, so I won't let things affect me so deeply. But, I just couldn't shake it. Then my pastor spoke of the story of Abraham. Mainly, how he had a child with his servant and then sent them both to the street. For years, she was a faithful servant. How much more of herself could she give? She gave him a son. But despite her loyalty, despite his son's love for him, he sent them both away....with out so much as a donkey. He didn't care if they lived or died...at that moment, he just wanted them away.

"This," my pastor said,"is how cruel humans are." I looked up. His message was for me. He explained that it's often the people you trust the most...even your own family that hurt you the most...because you love them the most. Boy, was I familiar with that case scenario. I felt peace for some reason...and now I know why. Today a miracle happened.

This is the second time a miracle in this fashion has occurred in my life. It's one of those prodigal son moments...but it's not a son...it's a friend. The prodigal friend has returned...I now have the opportunity to forgive and forget...or hold my anger till the end. I'm not one to let a person repeatedly screw me over...but this person wasn't like that. I don't feel like I have to use caution in this decision. The dissapearance was caused by outside factors...nothing to do with me...or with my friend.

It's amazing to me to see how God speaks to people...the key here is whether people choose to listen.

From the Mouth of a Jackass...

I had a long chat with my flogfriends the other day, who suggested that perhaps I need to "put myself out there" when it comes to finding a man. After much consideration, I realize I whine a lot more about not being married...and I do a lot less to rectify the situation. Sure, my bro has me on every website known to man...but I hardly ever respond to anyone who writes to me. And, I'm not exactly hitting the single's scene to meet anyone either.

So, I decided to change my ways. Ok, so I've met a few rotton-to-the-core apples..but that doesn't mean the whole crop is bad, right?? Last night, I decided to respond to one of the guys who emailed me. He is looking for a "creative person"...i figure, i fit that bill.

So, I wrote him...Below would be his response:
Its nice to hear from you. And thanks for telling me a bit about yourself. After you told me you are published writer, I did a google search on your name and visited your website. Kinda breezed thru the website since I'm at work now and on my lunch break. I liked your poems they are nice. I haven't had a chance to look at the short stories. I also read the synopsis of your novel. I'd like to talk to you more about that. I guess I've always been a bit puzzled about why Indians who grow up in the US (especially women) find themselves to be so torn in 2 different directions, etc...I wonder if a lot of this is not really self-inflicted and sort of blowing things out of proportion? I dunno...I don't want to judge too harshly. But it just seems to me that a lot of people in this world have it so much worse. They have to deal with hunger, disease, death, poverty, the kind of problems that we in America can't even fathom. Go to India and you will see little 2 and 3 year olds naked and begging on the streets. Growing up in America is pretty nice in comparison. Yes, we all have difficult parents and sometimes they're expectations are not in line with how we want to live our lives. And its hard to deal with that now and then. But it seems like there is an entire movement devoted to books and movies about how hard it is to be Indian growing up in the west. Is it really THAT bad? :) Again, I'm trying to understand and not judge. It would be nice to talk to you about it since you've written a book on this and perhaps you can me look at this from a different prospective.

Excuse me?? What kind of argumentative response is this?!? I've already realized he's a jack ass, but I thought I'd educate him a bit...

As for growing up Indian in America....yes, there are worse things in the world. Hunger and poverty definitely take precedence over my struggles. But never once did I try to compare the two problems. That would be like comparing apples to oranges. Everyone has problems in this world...just because mine aren't as sever as being homeless and hungry..it doesn't mean that it's not a problem...or that I and others should not voice our opinions on the matter. Being happy in life means more than having all the food you can eat and enough money to keep you alive. It's hard to enjoy the great things America has to offer while listening to your parents harp endlessly about things like marriage and meeting the "indian standard."

His dumb response:

I think that growing up in America for Indians is not any different from the experience of Europeans who came here before us as immigrants. They too had to deal with these same issues of growing up in a country/culture different from the one their parents came from. But there were not numerous books and movies devoted to how hard it was to be a first generation Italian American or Irish American as much as you see with the Indian-American experience. hats because in lot of those cases, people had to work on railroads and minefields to support their families. In same cases teenage boys and girls were out working to put food on the table to support their families. Indian kids who grow up here have access to the best education systems in the world..most of them grow up to be doctors, lawyers, engineers, writers, etc...It can't all be that bad. If your mom is driving you crazy about getting married then move away from home...live on your own. Do you own thing, find yourself, find what works for you, and be happy. I'm not trying to trivialize the problem. But I also don't think its worthy of the attention it has garnered. There is obviously a market that is being milked for commerical reasons.


Can you guys believe this?!?! Ugh, I want to hide back in my no-meeting-men shell!

Don't it always seem to go...that you don't know what you've got till it's gone...

My email inbox is empty today, and it will probably remain that way all week. Sir Billiam is out on vacation this week, and he is typically my source of amusement throughout the day. But alas, he's enjoying the waves and sun...somewhere in the middle of an ocean on a cruise with his lovely wife. (lucky devils) Meanwhile, I struggle to keep myself awake and stay busy, so this Bleh Monday won't drag.

On a typical day, I'm greeted with a morning email from Billy. Typically 10 lines of sheer nonsense that makes me roll my eyes. He's weird, annoying, nonsensical, annoying...did i mention annoying? However, today...I realize that Sir Billiam isn't so bad afterall. And, I guess I kinda miss the nuisance a bit. =/

It made me think that sometimes you just don't know what you have/appreciate till it's gone. Sometimes when you don't talk to someone for a while you realize how much fun they were to be around...and just how much you value them. Sometimes you realize the opposite...you see how bad someone is for you...how they bring you down or slow you down.

But, I guess as annoying B can be, he's a keeper. =/

I think I've lost me marbles!

Sometimes my own stupidity baffles me. Lately, I've been wondering if I've been sippin on some stupid juice or if I'm battling with senility. I started noticing the problem last Thursday. I came home from work and realized I left a paint swatch in the car. I also realized I left my keys in the car. Then, I went through the house like a mad woman trying to find the spare. Knowing myself, I looked in every WRONG place, such as in old purses, my bathroom drawer, my make up bag (places you wouldn't typically find a spare key). I couldn't find it anywhere, so I decided I'd check the right place, which was a little box on top of a sofa table where I throw my keys. Alas...it was there. Next stupid happening was on Sunday. The local college had an Indian night and asked me if I'd like to sell my books there. I thought I had a bag of books in my car, but they were suddenly gone. I was convinced that theives broke into my car at night and took the books. Then I stopped and thought about why a band of thieves would want to risk jail time for light reading! After I came to my senses, I ransacked the house once again. They were in a small corner of the closet in a box exactly where I had put them 2 weeks prior. Later that night, I stopped off at 7-11 to return a movie I rented the day before. The lady behind the counter opened up the DVD case and said, "Honey, you forgot the movie." Of course I did!! So, I hurried home to get the DVD, got back in the car only to realize NOW the case was missing! I ransacked the house for the millionth time, only to see it laying peacefully on my dresser where I left it. Today, I had two stupid happenings...One occurred at lunch. I went through the drive through at Subway, ordered my sandwich, got to the window, and realized my wallet wasn't in my purse. I canceled the order and decided I needed to go home and find my wallet. So, I drove TWENTY MINUTES to my house and once again, ransacked it looking for my wallet. When it wasn't there I ran back to my car to rummage through the mess in there to find it. Alas, it was on the floor of my car the entire time, so I drove TWENTY MINUTES back to work, wasting my entire lunch hour. Yesterday, I noticed my internet at work wasn't working. I read in an email that they were changing internet usage policies and I was convinced they took away my internet rights. So I sat there all day pouting about this. Today, I decided maybe I oughtta call the help desk and find out what was wrong. Sure enough, I had changed my windows password with out rebooting, thus causing this error.

I have no idea what's wrong with me...I'm losing what few marbles I have left. I'm sure I'll find them later though, after I'm done ransacking my house!

Celebrating the BFDO!

Many people don't know about Best Friend's Day Out. It was originated several years ago by one Susan Varghese. It is a special day in which you take time out of your daily routine to celebrate your friendship with your bestest friend. Today is my BFDO with Sonia. We have a little bit of nothing planned, which is why it's so exciting! We don't HAVE to do anything.

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of Sonia's life in OKC. These rare bonding times are soon going to come to an end, so we might as well enjoy it now. I think I'll slip into a life of a hermit after she leaves. Or maybe I'll take Billy up on his offer...live in his closet and eat flaming hot cheetos all day long. =/

In response to a fellow blogger...

I read a very interesting post by one of my blog brothers about freedom in the flog/blog world. My post isn't really a rebuttal but more like my take on the subject. I think freedom is something we all crave, but there are many things that stifle being free: your mind, your family, your church, your morals, your friends, your community...seriously, the list could be endless. But, ultimately YOU control what does or doesn't inhibit your freedom. For instance, my religion tells me that I can't pierce my ears. But, I say to hell with manmade rules, I'm wearing earrings. Now, although I know the opinion of the church and the possible reprecussions, I decided that it's my freedom of choice to pierce my ears...because well, they're MY ears.

Now, let's talk about the flog/blog world. Do any of us really know each other? Some of us do because we actually know each other outside of the flog/blog community. But for the most part, we only know our fellow flog/bloggers by the pictures we post and the captions we write. And in all honestly, that's only a small fraction of who we are. We choose what we post, knowing full well that whatever we reveal on flog/blog is how we are perceived. Now, some of us don't care how we're perceived and others might. For example, I once wrote in a caption that I'm painfully shy, and a flog sister posted that she would have never guessed that because I seem as if I'm a leader and outgoing. But, that is because I don't want to make myself look like the shy dork I truly am.

All this brings me to my final thought. We can be who we want to be. We can post what we want to post. We can reveal all of ourselves or just a part of ourselves. It doesn't matter because it's our freedom to do so. However, people...for as long as they have breath...will have their opinions, so we have to be prepared for that. Either fight for freedom (as humans have been doing for centuries)...keep being who you are... or let it get to you and conform your thoughts and expressions to match the mores of your community. But in the end, the decision is all yours. You have freedom...just grasp it.

Beware of Charming Snakes..

"Baby, are those wings behing your back? Because, you've GOT to be an angel." This was a line thrown at me once from a charmer. Of course, the charmer was a friend of mine who was practicing corny lines on me. But in all seriousness, he did go around saying things like this to girls. I found it sick, but there are girls out there that swoon over such stupidity. If I actually heard something like this, I'd run the other way...as fast as my little legs could take me.

I had a great convo the other day with one of my gal pals about "charmers." For some guys, it just comes naturally. He could be buying a stick of gum from a grocery store, and next thing you know, the cashier would be head over heels in love with the man. It's just something about his style, charisma, his natural smoothness. Then, there are the rest of the so-called charmers, who throw out cheesy lines and call any random girl "baby." Eww.

It's one thing if the guy is single and just trying to get some, but if he's married and still pulling this stuff????? Houston...we've gotta a problem! But, this happens every day. Some married men charm a little too hard and in their minds, it's A-ok because they're not DOING anything. They say things like "let me know if there's anything I can do for you?"...in this low-toned voice. I've wanted to ask...anything as in mow my lawn?? or anything as in...ya, know...anything. Eww.

My galpal and I were saying charmers are the most lethal guys to come in contact with and more lethal if you're married to him. Whether they're just naturally smooth or one of those gross kind that unbutton their shirts to show their hairy chests. It's one thing to have a guy open a car door for you, pull a chair for you, hold your hand when you cross the street...those are subtle charming acts. But girls, if you've met a guy who's eyes rove, charms other women when you're with him, or can sweet talk a grocery store cashier...those are great cues to make like a basketball and bounce. Don't let the snake charm you.

Some "smurfy" memories...

I received a call this morning on my way to work. As usual, I couldn't rummage through the clutter of my purse fast enough to find my phone. When I finally pulled it out of the black abyss of my purse, I had missed a call from SunuA. With a raised brow, I wondered why she would be calling me so early. Surely, something catastrophic must have occurred.

SA: You're not going to believe what's on channel 25.
SV: What is it kid?
SA: I just can't believe it.
SV: WHAT?!?
SA: The Smurfs is on.

I was all concerned and worried, and she was calling about smurfs?! I've never been a huge fan of the smurfs. Grant it, they are kinda cute, but in 8th grade my English teacher pointed out that they used the noun "smurf" as an adjective "smurfy" and adverb "smurfily." At the time, we thought she was an under-cover nazi, so the class brought all our little plastic smurf collectibles and placed them all over her class...even in her coffee cup.

After I studied grammar in college, I realized she was right. I could finally appreciate her opinion, and I became anti-smurf myself. But, I must agree that "The Smurfs" was a real cartoon. And I definitely miss real cartoons. I mean, when I was a kid, the best part of the weekend was waking up early on Saturdays to watch cartoons till noon. The summers were even better because you got your daily dosage of the Flinstones, Jetsons, Fat Albert..etc...without worrying about making it to the bus stop on time.

These poor kids today are seriously missing out. Occasionly I do wake up early on Saturday mornings. Nothing's on. Most of what I see is reality TV type shows for kids. That's really sad. I'm beginning to realize how detrimental reality TV is to American television and entertainment. What happened to creating shows and cartoons based off of the imagination and creativity of brilliant writers? What happened to real actors?

I'd like to pledge not to watch another reality show again, but I've already kicked the junk food habit and the biting nails habit...and quite frankly, kicking one more bad habit might be just a wee too much for me to handle right now...causing a relapse. So, I won't even go there. But, I will say that I'm quite glad I was born in the 70's because I got to experience things like real cartoons, real sitcoms, and REAL music. My condolensces to these children who will one day say..."you remember that show when we were kids...how there was this one girl and she had to pick a husband from 25 guys?"

A Tribute to Sunu...On this, her 25th *and holding* birthday...

I went to school with Sunu. She was a grade older than me. Although I would see her around all the time, we never talked. She was what you would call "Ms. Popular-teen" of the Indian community. And me? Well, I never lived in the Indian community before I moved to Oklahoma, so I was still trying to figure things out. So, I did what any self-respecting akward teenage tom-boy would do...I decided I didn't like her. This dislike only increased when she signed my autograph book on the last day of my 8th grade year. She wrote, " To a great guy." After which, she crossed out "guy" and replaced it with "gal." I wasn't impressed. To me, it was attack on my tomboyhood.

In highschool, I moved up on the scale of Indian socialites. I went from a "Sue who?" to a "Sue, you know...Sunu's friend Sheba's friend." This meant I got to deliver notes from Sunu to Sheba from Sheba to Sunu. Lucky me. I had no clue how I assumed this position. God knew, their friendship nauseated me. I would cringe when I walked into Sheba's room and read the banner on her wall..."Sunu and Sheba Smile Sexy So Smile Sunu and Sheba Style." HURL! GAG! BLEH! Somehow my delivery service stopped soon after it started. I assumed they probably thought I was reading their notes. I mean come on, what self-respecting akward teenage tom-boy WOULDN'T read their notes?!? She never questioned me on it, nor did we ever talk. We had a world history class together and sat at opposite ends.

After highschool we parted ways. Somehow, a few years later, I met her younger sister, Sonia. It was friendship at first sight. We went from being fast friends to inseperable friends to best friends. And that's when I had to tell the self respecting akward teenage tomboy in me to stop drinking that hatorade long enough to see what Sunu was all about...since Sunu and Sonia came in a packaged deal.

Never in a zillion years would I think that she and I could become such close friends. I definitely regret not being friends with her during my school days because we would have probably had a lot of fun times. But, I am thankful that she's in my world now. We are definitely polar opposites...she loves Hindi music, irons her underwear, takes 5 hours to get ready...and I am all about 80's/retro music...my idea of ironing is shaking out wrinkles...and getting ready is no more than a 20 minute process. But, regardless of these differences...we have a lot in common... We are each other's shoulders to lean. I love her most because she laughs at my dumb jokes and makes me feel smart when she says I'm a deep thinker....and because I know that I can count on her for anything...to pick me up when we go out, so I won't get lost...to listen to me whine when I'm depressed...to loan me 20 bucks even if she doesn't have it. =) She reminds me of what friendship's all about

Scaring away Fobio...

I think I'm on every matrimonial site that exists. Not because I put myself on them, but because my brother has. To say I'm annoyed is the biggest understatement. I have strange guys leaving messages on my website and sending me emails. If I've told my brother once, I've told him a million times that my email was created for PROFESSIONAL purposes and not so every Tom, Dick, and Thumby can see my "photo."

I find that scaring off Fobios has become an extracurricular activity. Not that I do it on purpose, but it's just what naturally happens when I start "corresponding" with them. You think my brother would take a hint, but no... he has made this his passion in life...his sole reason for being.

The situation with the last guy was an interesting scenario. He was orthodox, and I am pentecostal. My family could care less because at this point they just want someone who looks like a male and has a heart beat. He can have a disease I don't know about, be a transvestite, or a serial killer as long as he reveals that AFTER the wedding. Anyway, I told the guy that we have different beliefs about things that I happen to think are important...like baptism. THAT went right over his head. He says to me..."You're a good Christian. That is great. My parents are strict Orthodox." I rolled my eyes. He wasn't getting it. Did I mention anything about his parents? When you get to the gates of Heaven are you gonna say, "Hey God, let me in...I'm Chinama and Joy's mon?" By this time, my brother was planning the wedding. So, I had to email the guy and spell it out for him. I* AM* NOT* INTERESTED*

Now, the latest guy is a doozie. He wrote to me...I wrote him back, trying to be open minded...told him to tell me about himself. He sends me a resume that he was sending to me AND MY BROTHER!!! I wrote him back and said exactly this..."Listen, from here on out, don't write to my brother anymore. It's me that is making this decision. Write back and tell me about yourself...and I don't want to see biodata." Ok, so maybe that was a little rude. Apparently it scared him off...because I've never heard from him again. I can't say that I'm saddened by this fact either.

If there's anything that Friendster and Fotolog have taught me...it's that the Malu world is quite small. You'd think that hook up would be so easy. I mean, surely...if I have 10 friends who have 50...who have 100...then, SOMEONE would know SOMEONE who would be a good match for me. You'd think...right?

Wrong! I am CONVINCED that there are more women than men. Seriously, I know 2 men who are 30+ and single and about 10 women who fit in that same category. It's sick!..I tell ya. When my CCL was pregnant the first time around, there were 4 of her friends who were pregnant too. She had the only boy...do you see that ratio 1:4. OMG! For a non-confrontational, non-competitive girl like me...there is NO HOPE.

Dealin' with the Fear Factor...

My entire life I have been pretty scared to take a chance in fear of failure. The only time I truly put myself "out there" was when I sought a publisher for my book. Honestly, I can't credit my own bravery for that either. The driving force behind that search was my professors, peers, and friends.

I pretty much enjoy playing it safe and dreaming from a distance. A buddy of mine wants to open his own coffee shop, but fears the risk and the potential failure. So, instead of pursuing his dream, he works his 9-5 and lets his unhappiness eat away at his spirit. Hmm...sound familiar? It often amazes me how I give the best advice to others and don't take the advice myself. This struck me when I heard myself tell him "don't live your life fearfully, but fearlessly." Even better... was when I was talking to my cousin Ashley,a senior in high school. She complained that her parents were holding her back from living her life...and I said to her, "Ash, the only person who can hold you back is you." She looked at me wide-eyed with that "wow, SusanChechi's so wise look"...so far from the truth.

The truth being that I am a PROFESSIONAL advice giver. But as for me and my own life, I choose to live in the confines of my fear. Ever the lecturer, my BF part 2, Dains harps at me to step out and deal with my fear factor. Typically, I listen with my head down, and Sonia, BF part 1, tells him to quit harping, hugs me and assures me it's okay. But is it okay?...

Not so much. A year ago, someone told me to pursue freelance writing, but I was too scared. I mean, A. I'm a fiction writer, B. what if I send in an article and the readers think it sucks, C. I just CAN'T do it. Last night, I was surfing on the web, looking for a new hairstyle...when I come across this website that needs freelance writers for web content. I sat and stared at the ad for a few moments, convinced myself I wouldn't qualify, and called it a night.

This morning, I went back to the site...stared at it a bit longer and decided to email them my resume. Folks, I'm now a freelance writer for some hair website (as silly as it sounds). My first article is about "hairstyles in the work place."...it's going to be like blogging, but about hair! I approach my assignment with excitement. I'm about to embark upon an unknown territory...but, I figure...what I want to do is WRITE...and I'm unhappy because I'm NOT WRITING...so why not give it a shot?

3-15-91

March 15, 1991...Spring Break was on the horizon. My cousin Lisa was visiting from Dallas, and we sat around the dining table eating macaroni and cheese as we talked about our plans for the week. Aaah, yes..a week full of waking up at noon, prank calling our innocent victims, eating pringles till they made us sick, and watching soap operas. Could life get any better?

Unfortunately, this wasn't how the events of the week unfolded because that night as we sat around the dining table talking...the phone rang. It's amazing how it only takes one instant to change your world...to turn your happiness into sadness...to remind you how mortal you are. My sister picked up the phone, and the smile that she had on her face from laughing at me and Lisa...turned into a look of shock within seconds. She hung up the phone and told us that our cousin Binou had been in a fatal car accident.

My 16-year-old cousin left his house that day, coming back in 3 times for various different reasons before he finally left for the last time. His mother says, that perhaps in some strange way, he knew what was going to happen...that he'd never come back. He got in his car and followed his friends to their hang out spot that day. The two cars were racing...and needless to say, the negligence caused Binou his life.

Today, I try not to focus on his death...but his life. At 16, he embraced life...he was the best story teller I knew. We spent many Sunday afternoons talking and playing karams...and most of all just laughing. That's what Binou did best....laugh and make others laugh with his crazy tales and happy spirit. He would have been 29 years old today...I'm sure today, he is thought of by many...his parents, brothers, friends, cousins....and his neices who never knew him. And, I'm sure he's in heaven...with the rest of our loved ones who we miss dearly...watching over us from a better place.

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY....

Twas the day before BONUS and all through the house...the employees were stirring...even the mice!! Tomorrow is bonus pay out day at AFA. I love to see/hear the reaction of my fellow-colleagues. Some dance as soon as the hot little check settles in their hand...others tear it open and gripe that Uncle Sam took 40 % of it. (Isn't that SICK?!) Everyone's been walking around talking about what they're going to do with their bonus check...which has left me with the lingering question...what am I gonna do with mine??

In years past, I have take my bonus and flown out on the first plane to NYC...but this year, I like the idea for saving it, so I won't be strapped for cash later. But, that's a tad boring, so I decided to save the vast MAJORITY of it and take a bite of the pie by buying a bike and maybe a cute spring purse...and some eyeshadow. That's it!..I swear!! I went bike shopping this weekend... I saw the bike of my dreams on Saturday when the Illustrious Finuji and I went shopping. It was bubblegum pink with black and white stripes on the side. My eyes widened in awe and Finu almost fell to the ground laughing hysterically. She said she wouldn't be caught anywhere with me on THAT bike. I had a bike much like that one when I was 7...it was bubble gum pink with a cool white and pink banana seat. Fins thinks I need to seek some sort of professional help...she thinks I have some sort of psychosis that is causing me to re-live my past. Unfortunately, the bike was $200. Fins says it's a total rip off because it doesn't have gears.

So, we went to Walmart...where I found a Huffy for 80$. But, it's baby blue...and not half as cool as bubble gum pink. Fins suggested I get a pink helmet, but of course they don't have any for adults. Why is that??? Is it so hard to imagine a 30 year old with a pink helmet? So far, a few of my friends suggest I get the bike that makes my heart flutter...but, I can't see myself spending that much on something that I'm bound to break.

So this year, I guess I'll "pretend" to be responsible, and save my bonus for a rainy day.

Just a thought...

In my neighborhood, we have a man-made lake...In fact, my friend, the Illustrious Finuji lives right in front of it. The lake draws geese, which can be spotted all around my neighborhood. As I was driving towards my house, I spotted a few geese, and I started pondering on why male birds are better looking in the bird species. I wondered why the same wasn't true in the human species...and then the thought suddenly came to me. God is sooooo beyond brilliant! He knew that if he created males to look better than females , the human race would never procreate because men are way too superficial and shallow to be with a female that's less attractive.

Bulls n' Blood, Dust n' Mud, Roar of a Sunday Crowd...

Picture this, the year was 1992. I was a young, vivacious senior eager to make it through the final months of school to begin college. Highschool had been quite a challenge for me. After all, I was one of only two Indians in a predominately white school. Not just predominately white, my friends...predominately "hick." They wore Wrangles (tight jeans), ropers (cowboy boots), and cowboy hats. Throught my three years at the school, I had endured many a racist prank. Not so much because people hated me, but because my dumb arss never got mad or fought back, so I was just an easy target. The "cowboys" knew they could get away with it. In tenth grade, they waited for my teacher to leave the class and then proceeded to dot my forehead with a red, permanent marker as the whole class watched in horror. In eleventh grade, they stold my picture from the year book room and posted signs around the building that said "camel jockey wanted for oil guzzling, double parking her elephant, and flying her majic carpet with out a permit." I tried to explain that half of those things were more middle eastern than India, but to them...I was brown and so I represented South Asia and the Middle East. (they almost got suspended for that prank) My senior year, I was walking towards the school, trudging through the snow...and I see a line of cowboys standing in front of me with their arms crossed. They saw me and my friend Sherry (who was guilty by association) and pummeled us to the ground in the COLD, ICY SNOW!

Yes, by Senior year, I abhored the cowboys. My patience had been worn thin. I soon hated everything that represented them. Hated the hats...the boots...the jeans...the chewing tobacco...and ESPECIALLY the music. I will never forget sitting in a school bus seat with a coat on top of my head and my fingers in my ear trying to block out the sound of Garth Brooks as he sang for hours and hours on repeat when we would go to away football games and band contests. It was then that my hatred for country music began.

Now, nearly 13 years later (God, I feel old)...all of the cowboys have apologized to me in one way or another. Most of them told me it was all in good fun and I was a great sport. If I knew that then...I woulda been a biyatch! Recently, I've been listening to the country station on the way to work. At first, I hesitantly turned the dial and waited for the memories to hit me, but they didn't. And, I really enjoyed the music...much better than the rap crap I hear on the other stations. Country music usually has a great message. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me these days. I realize that as I get older, I get stranger. But, I guess it's good that I've let go of the past and have been able to appreciate my surroundings a bit...I guess this makes me a lil bit country and a lil bit rock n' roll!

That Battle of the Bulge...

I grew up on dingdongs and hostess pies for breakfast and chips ahoy chocolate chip cookies for an after school snack. I remember distinctly going to my cousin Lisa's for the summer and being disgusted by the broccoli that always accompanied our spaghetti and meatballs. Green things were simply foreign to me. The "good stuff" was laced with sugar, came in tin cans, could be dunked in milk...anything else fell short of my satisfaction. As a kid, I could get away with madness because chub was cute and elastic pants were acceptable. I can't blame my mom for the fact that Little Debbie was my best friend growing up. She was my sister's too, but she somehow grew out of the madness. Her son is ten and has NEVER eaten a twinkie in his life. To me, that's child abuse...to her, it's proper parenting. I swear if you cut me, coke would come pouring from my veins...this is how much I love it. I say, Give me Coke or give me death! I picture Heaven to be a place where coke falls freely from magnificent fountains.

A few weeks ago...I awoke suddenly and realized that this insanity MUST stop. My cousin Mikey...ever the fat-hater...reminds me constantly of all the naked, fat people he sees laying on stretchers on operating table with clogged arteries. Years of this message had no affect on me. What did? The inability to wear some of my cuter clothes! I mean really...were my clothes shrinking in the dryer? HAD to be the case...not so much. In hopes of fitting into cute capris and Bermuda shorts (now that they are FINALLY back in style)...I began this battle of the bulge.

Coke is no longer in my vocabulary...it has been a hard part of my life to let go. When I think about how it pops and sizzles as it hits the ice...I simply get chills. No more Johnny Carino's chocolate cake runs...no more pepperoni pizza (unless it's turkey pepperoni with low fat cheese on a reduced fat crust). I've learned to accept alternatives, drink water, eat fruit...and oddly enough, it makes me feel great. It's crazy...my insides feel clean and not so toxic and clogged. My friends always tell me I don't eat a lot...but I guess with me it's not about quantity...it's about quality...and that's what I concentrate on as I battle my bulge..s. =)

Things that make you say WT Freak?

I'm quite perplexed this morning about a few things that have left me feeling quite puzzled. One, is mankind's undying need to live in a state of constant dramatic turmoil. It's confusing...really. Wouldn't the world be more peaceful if people minded their own business and stopped judging people they didn't know?? But no, instead, people find it necessary to create dramatic situations in order to either A. make sure others are as miserable as they are or B. add an area of excitement in their lives by making other people miserable.

Two, is people who change their moods like they change their underwear. The one thing I ask from my friends is consistency, which translates into loyalty. Never will I be able to understand A. people who don't talk things out when a problem arises...just disappears as if that's a better way to deal with issues...or B. people who are bosom buddies with you one day and cut you off the next.

Three, is holier than thou people who are shady as the day is long. I mean really, I may not be able to see that you're devious because you hide behind the veil of religion...but God does, so good luck.

These are my perplexities this morning. I just had to vent!

Billy the Baffoon is right again...

It's Monday. It's amazing how 2 days of the weekend FLY by and 2 days of the work week simply CRAWL. I could sit and complain about this forever, but I'll spare u all. I had a rather unproductive weekend. The highlights consisted of watching Hitch, the Oprah movie, baby shopping, and reading 2 pages of Roots. I don't know how I've become so lazy to read, but I have. I'll just have to start challenging myself to do it. Not that I haven't been challenging myself enough lately....Not only am I watchin what I eat, but I've stopped biting my nails. I predict that this will last another week, and I will be gnawing on my nails during Sunday service very soon. Although it's completely disgusting, I've been a nail biter since the time I figured out that nails could be bitten. Anytime I see white on the tips of my nails, my teeth are just drawn to them. I was inspired by cousin Leslie a few weeks ago, when she told me she gave up meat for Lent (sp?) . She's not much of a meat eater anyway, but she does like chicken once in a while. She has such strong will, so I decided to give up nail biting for Lent. Not that my denomination even does Lent...but I think this year I'll do it anyway. Last year I celebrated "rakhee," which is a Hindu tradition...They tie a bracelet around their brother's wrist and the bro gives them money. My brother would have kicked my arss if I tied anything on his wrist, so I decided I'd tie it on my Hindu bro...Romel. I didn't expect anything in return. I just thought it was a nice sentiment and I wanted to be a part of it. Rome, being the prince he is, gave me 50 bucks. Gotta loveeee Rakhee. I realize I'm rambling about nothing, so I will stop here. However, before I go...I have to post this conversation with my friend Billy. (Sibil, you should find this pretty amusing.) I had to tell him some pertinent information that I found out this weekend, although I was dreading to do so because it meant that he was right about this particular situation...and I HATE when he's right. I tried to email him the info from work, and oddly enough he didn't get it. I emailed it again, and he didn't get it. So I emailed him from my personal account and he didn't get it. I figured it was definitely God's sign that he didn't want Billy to know this info because God and I both knew he would gloat. However, Billy came up with an alternate plan...email HIS personal account...I did, and he received it. This, Sibil, was his response...

Email Response 1:Well,, suzukee, now that i have been validated by scorps......SHE IS
AWESOME..... Well , well, well, i'll be telling you i told you so forever
now....SO RESPECK MY AUTHORITY!!!!!!!!!

My Response: I HATE YOU!

Email Response 2:as you should... sometimes i get frustrated at being right all the time too....YES!!!!

Email Response 3: Omigosh...............DARK PRINCE...............YEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I'll NEVER hear the end of this.

A Freak Is Off His Leash....

I'm just an ordinary girl, who some might consider to be a "Plain Jane." I've never been really pursued by anyone...except in fifth grade on the first day of school. This pale- skinned, dark curly-haired kid name Shilo had a mad crush on me. I mean really, I can't blame him. I was pretty damn cute with irresistable pig tails. He wrote me a note that asked me if I would be his girlfriend. I folded it up carefully after reading it and stuck it in my pocket. He assumed I'd answer the next day. But really, I went home and cried and showed my dad the note. I mean it was the FIRST day of school, and the boy totally freaked me out by his assertiveness!! So my dad, always my hero, went to my school and talked to the teacher. I'm not quite sure what she said to Shilo, but I never had to worry about that skinny little guy again. Actually, I never would have to worry about ANY guy ever again. =(

By the time I stopped being afraid of boys, I was in junior high, and this time I had a mad crush on big, brown-eyed Barrett. I told a friend who told his friend who told Barrett, and he said he wished I'd get run over with a Mack truck. And so ended that relationship. In high school, I took another stab at this thing called love. And pursued a tuba player named Wegus. I swear, I'm not making any of this stuff or the names up. These are the stories that make me, me. Anyway, Wegus was in interesting fellow. He loved to punch me in the arm. My friend Sherry told me that was the way guys show their affection. (Thankfully her husband has found other ways to show his affection) As dumb as I was, I believed her. So I let this FREAK punch me in the arm day in and day out. Soon the punching turned into trying to kick my legs to make me trip and then finally ended in sticking a frog down the back of my shirt. Yep, that was the last straw for me. Last I heard of Wegus, he was serving time in jail for beating up some guy.

Nowadays, I haven't had much luck in the guy department. And, it's not like random guys come up to me and ask for my name and number. If anything, the only interest I get is from some guy deep in the villages of Kerala who knows nothing more than my name, age, location, education, and religious background. And with that, is willing to be my lawfully wedded husband. All this brings me to the POINT at hand...

I got an email the other day from an individual, saying they read my story and I should write more and more and more. Then he thanked me for writing it. As I do with everyone who emails me in this manner, I responded, thanked him for his email, and asked him how he came across my book. His reply stated that he saw my very nice pic, wants me to add him to my friend list, and that he wants to know more about me because i'm sweet. My weirdar alert went off. But out of sheer curiousity, I wanted to know HOW HE FOUND MY BOOK. So, I wrote him again, said it was nice to meet him, and asked him he came across the book. His reply stated, "Thank you for sending your reply I recite it over and over again every day that I can." And he attached a picture of a pink rose.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Suddenly those feelings from 5th grade arose. I'm scared. Who is this guy? Why does he memorize and recite my emails? Why am I a freak magnet? If you have the answers to any or all of those questions please leave me a message in the box below.

Someone Better Fess Up...

I had two black sweaters. I swear, I interchangeably wore these sweaters daily, either as a part of my ensemble or just as something to keep me warm. I had a knee length and a waist length one. Oddly enough, both of them are no where to be found. While expressing my remorse to Sonia, she said that Sunu had the knee length sweater. "You must have left it here," she explained. Hmm, perhaps...possibly...although, I scarcely think I would let THAT happen. But what other explanation is there? So, I questioned Sunu. "It's at the cleaners," she replies as if that's an understandable, appropriate answer. Cleaners?! Why would you take a grungy black sweater to the cleaners? Why wouldn't you just throw it in the washer? These were the questions that floated in my mind. But, I believed her. Sunu is meticulous about ironing/cleaning her clothes. So...ok...it's at the cleaners...maybe. But, it's been friggin weeks, and she still hasn't given me my beloved signature sweater back. And what's more perplexing is the fact that my waist length is now missing too! Coincidence? I think not! For years my friends have been trying to pry those sweaters from the grips of my little hands. I think this is a conspiracy! I demand to know the truth! I know Sonia can't be guilty of this haneous crime because she herself owns a black sweater and knows the true value of it as I do. ( Is it any wonder why we're such good friends?!) I think this is a plot to remove my beloved black sweaters from my wardrobe!!!

This means I have to find a new signature "thing." Like, something that you look at and think..."that's simply so Sue." For instance, my friend Sangita is a connoisseur of fine things, but her signature "thing" is accessories...big, bulky rings, elaborate bead bracelets in all shades, and dangling earrings that are always the perfect finishing touch to her couture. Basically, anything furry, feathery, flashy, pink, and blingy is her style. Everytime I see jewelry/purses like that at a kiosk or store, I immediately think "that is soo Sang!"

A few months ago, I tried to develop a new "thing." I decided to add bangles to my couture. I thought it would give me an Indian flare while promoting good fashion. I went to the Indian store in search of my new "thing." That turned out to be a depressing nightmare. Not one of the friggin bangles fit my wrist! Now, this perplexed me. My wrists ARE NOT FAT! Ok, maybe my hands are a bit widish since I've been popping my knuckles since I was 5...maybe that's it. I decided no more bangles for me...EVER. Well, not until I can find some that I can wear with out smothering my hand in Criscoe first. So, bangles can't be my new thing. Then I thought about pink nail polish, but pink doesn't go with everything, and I'm a nail biter, so I might just die of stomach poisoning because of my new "thing." We wouldn't want that.

So, I'm open for suggestions, but what I'd REALLY like are my sweaters back. I miss them and all of my gray slacks miss them too. =( So if you know or have information regarding the whereabouts of two grungy black sweaters, please comment in the information box listed below. With your help, this crime might be solved and the criminals brought to justice.

On to bigger and better things...

The new season of America's Top Model begins tonight. Just another show for a reality TV junkie to obsess about. Last night they showed the girls from the last season their past, and what they are doing now.

Most of the girls came from small towns or weren't doing much at that point in their lives. But, modeling was something they dreamed about from a very young age, and they decided it was time to pursue it. A few of their parents were interviewed, and they seemed to be saying the same things..."since she was little she was always in front of a camera, prancing around, singing and dancing." I started thinking about my own life. I can't say that I used to write stories as a child, but I was imaginative. I was the youngest in my family and my brother and sister were 7 and 6 years older than me. They didn't have the time or the energy to entertain me, so I entertained myself with imaginary friends/enemies and an imaginary world. Through out school English was my strong point, the study of literature always fascinated me, and I seemed to be the designated "paper writer" for my group of friends. I just never realized this was my dream until I stumbled upon Creative Writing classes in college. It was then that I realized that I had something that I could call my own...and that I had to pursue it.

Several of the girls from the show, including the girl from Oklahoma City, moved to New York to make their careers happen. They have a crappy apartment in Brooklyn, work odd jobs (dog walker), and pursue their dream. Even if they never make the cover of Vogue...they are living their dream...because if you're not LIVING you're dream...you're not living...just dreaming. Lately I take inspiration from anywhere I can find it...and I found it last night. I'm inspired to keep trying and keep writing. My avid search for a new and IMPROVED publisher begins TODAY. I believe in the potential of my book...and if I can be published once...SURELY I can be published again.

How I survive the 9 to 5...

I usually trudge around despairingly all morning until I come to grips with the fact that I HAVE to be at work. But there are a few things that make my weekdays a bit bearable and with out them, I scarcely think I could make it. One is my packet of oatmeal. I realize how bizarre this sounds. But there is something comforting about the warmth and wholesome goodness of oatmeal. Either that, or I have just gone off the deep end. The latter would not surprise me in the least. The second is an email from my friend Billy. As maniacal as this man can be, I don't know what I would do with out his daily rants. When I open up my email in the morning and I don't see his name hilighted as new mail...I panic. Does this mean he's not in? Is his email not working? How will I make it through the day?? I don't think he knows (until now) how much his friendship means to me, although we agree on NOTHING and fight regularly. It's nice to know that I'm not alone...that someone else is sitting behind a computer like a robot...working day in and day out passionlessly. Third, is my daily calls from "Hoo"...better known as BC's property manager. In an office full of stuffy suits...it's nice to take a break and talk to someone real and down to earth. Fourth, is lunchtime...aaah...an hour to be free from the daily grind...to think about things I want to think about...to call people I want to talk to...to read about some other world where monotony doesn't exist...These are the things that get me through till 4:45

I decided that something has to be done...I can't go on hating the weekdays and craving the weekends that speed by before I get a chance to even enjoy it. So, Billy and I...and hopefully a few others have decided to start a writing group. (upon the suggestion of SG's cute fiction writer friend) At least this will give me something to look forward to...It will give me a reason to write (other than my flog/blog). Hopefully this will bring me out of the funk that I've been plagues with for months now...hmmm...perhaps this and an itsy bitsy bite of Johnny Carino's divinely delicious chocolate cake.