Metamorphosis

2007-01-11T11:42:00.000+09:00

So here I am now, living the long cherished American dream. Rising at some ungodly hour like 7.3oam, squeezing myself into a 'business casual' outfit (and what on earth would "sneakers that don't 'feel' like sneakers" be?), and running to catch a bus and then a subway train before clomping on those sneakers that don't feel like sneakers into the sacred workplace.
After which, I get to flash the pearly whites to anyone who'd look my way and answer the phone in my melodiest.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. Really, this isn't one of my usual wobbly attempts at satire; I truly am living the life I had envisioned not too long ago.
No more putting up with the worst attempts at sugar-coating real feelings. No more hypocrisy. No more mind numbing monotony.
This, really, could be it.

2006-11-11T13:35:00.000+09:00

By the farthest stretches of its definition, the word 'patriot' could never be used to describe me. I have never really even thought much about patriotism; it has always been a rather vague and alien concept for me. This may be very well because of my growing up in over three different countires, but I attribute it more to the fact that I am unable to associate with any nation whose society I decry. In other words, I cannot seperate those two aspects of a country.
I have bemoaned political policies, social norms and economical fluxes, but that is as much involvement as I take credit for. In fact, I haven't even exercised my most basic duty of voting yet. For which, of course, I have a valid reason-I was a Resident American soon after I turned 18, which is the voting age where I hail from; and so, couldn't vote in either country. I was Naturalized as a citizen last year, but haven't gotten around to voting yet. Do I really need to vote-is altogether another topic which I am not embarking on today.

People with different nationalities or backgrounds are thought to have more identity crises and more rounds of those spurious 1/4-life/mid-life crises. Yet again, I felt I wouldn't belong to that bandwagon either because I didn't think nationality or the color of your passport were influential enough criteria for such things.
However, having been an 'alien resident' in perhaps one of the most anti-foreign socities in the world, I have had much opportunity to ponder upon, and finally realize, certain things. One, that nationality does indeed play a role in one's identity. Two, that I am truly both American and Indian, and Three, I am going to be at my acerbic best when the next 'all foreigners are weird and stupid/we are better than any other race' mouthing Japanese comes along.

Which brings me back to the 'patriot or not?' point. Again, I would probably be the last person to participate in political activity, but my tolerance for people who constantly belittle others with regards to their ethnicity or nationality has gone down a great deal. In particular, I have a hard time keeping my temper down when I hear people here throwing barbs at America. Yes, there are plenty of things wrong with the country right now, and possibly will be for a very long time to come. And several of which is downright against any iota of common sense. But I do not wish to be the punching bag for the weak-kneed Japanese who do not have the courage to speak where it counts. What really angers me here isn't that it's aimed at America. It's the cowardly, sneering manner in which they find fault with others while forgetting to see that their own country has plenty of problems to deal with and it doesn't really behoove them to be critical of anyone. And also that they are simply jealous because they crave the individuality a society such as America offers and yet, noone has the enterprise or the courage to step away from the herd.
I know many of you will argue and point to examples of individuality, but such small numbers are exceptions. And exceptions only confirm a rule.

But this was merely the beginning. When I got around to politely but firmly telling people that I did not wish to participate in any conversations on whether or not America was a 'worthy' country, I had this thrown at me 'But why do you care (enough to get offended)? You're not American, you're Indian!' My intitial reaction was a wave of frustration that hovered dangerously close to the tip of my tongue. But as I thought more about it, I was able to see it objectively. I could understand where that question was coming from-Japan is singularly close-minded about nationality-hell, you weren't thought of as Japanese even if both your parents were 'pureblooded' Japanese but you happened to be born and raised outside the archipelago.
I began to explain that it was their constant habit of criticising others that was actually getting to me; but I ended up having a rather enlightening moment then as I realised that I was, indeed, American. I stand for many of the qualities that America was founded upon-individuality, hard work, compassion, and acceptance of mankind-in all its colors, orientations and qualities; and was reminded of the time when I saw America to be much more than the McDonald commercials and Baywatch shows the media portrayed it to be.

That definitely doesn't mean I renounced the Indian in me; I am as Indian as I am American. Perhaps even more at times. I stand for all that India stood for once too; for honor, duty, respect and humility; and am ever so proud of the magnificient mosiac of culture and tradition that it is.

Much of who I am is shaped by both America and India; and regardless of which social norms or political policies I disagree with, I am thankful for the influence of the two countries. Which is exactly why I am no longer going to keep mum or bother with tact when it comes to putting badmouthers in their place.

And if I feel this passionate about it, am I not a patriot, after all?

2006-06-23T13:27:00.000+09:00

When I initially began this blog, I meant to write down any life-altering incident or put in words the brilliant flash of inspiration or revelation that marks growing up. But lately, I've had many things I've want to write about, be it a sighting that would win top marks on a 'wierdest things around the world' or just a rant and rave about life in general. For fear of lapsing into the 'dear diary' phase, and further not being able to keep up diligently, I desisted so far. But I think I will try and keep this one up.
On that note, here's the first of this kind: Yesterday was one of the worst days of my adult life. For no apparent reason whatsoever, I hurled everything I'd consumed in the last 24 hours, in the span of 2 hours. It was dreadful. I felt severely dehydrated and weak and drained. I don't know which was worse: the pink tint of the vomit or my Japanese coworkers shamming concern while really worrying whether I'll stay through my shift and not have them sub. I managed to keep my head up until 9.30, after which my sweetheart of a friend took me to a hospital. Which was another experience best forgotten. The doctor looked like he was hung over and the nurses glared at me for having dared to disturb their peaceful coffee chat for a mere case of reverse assimilation. Thankfully, it was over soon enough.
I'm feeling a lot better today. I have no energy, but I'm afraid to eat. I've been able to retain some pineapple, a banana and half a bottle of C.C Lemon. But I'm too scared to have any carbs. What scares me more is having to go to work at the other branch today, where the manager is for sure a voodoo practitioner. I mamaged to get on the wrong side of her the other day, and that's pobably why I heaved and hurled most of yesterday-geez, since when have I started to sound like Mum? But I swear, she gave me the evil eye.
Well, here's hoping that I'll remain intact by the end of the day....

2006-05-07T22:13:00.000+09:00

I yearn to dance. To move to a beat, in sync with other dancers, to be up on stage, under the spotlight, to hear the audience cheer me on, to come to a grand finale with my heart racing, my chest heaving, the sweat on my brow and an indelible smile on my face.

2005-10-25T11:55:00.000+09:00

I have finally, albeit grudgingly, admitted to the fact that I am living my long-cherished dream, and that I am indeed fortunate. When I look around myself in my current daily life, I see nothing missing. True, I don’t have a ‘better half’ to share all of this with, but therein lies the paradox of my life: haven’t I always gone about shouting till I was hoarse that my formula for contentment doesn’t include a partner? So why the sudden craving? I don’t know. Perhaps, as I grow older, my true needs change. I am at my best when in solitude, but sometimes, I find myself desiring to share the great feeling of contentment that comes with positive results to hard work.
And I can't help feeling that no matter how complete, I could never experience certain things on my own. Things such as the warmth that comes from intimacy, the joy that comes from compassion and sharing, and the stimulation that comes from the merging of idea, thought and feeling.
Perhaps all of that is just my ego being slightly avaricious. Perhaps I am really happy and complete. And perhaps I just need to accept that, smile, and keep typing.

2005-10-15T16:08:00.000+09:00

I am free. After days and months of being cooped up in the asphyxiating darkness of anguish and confusion, I am finally out in the bright open, breathing in life-giving oxygen. The steel bands that had tightened over my heart over the past year have loosened considerably; my heart now has gone back to pumping blood into the veins that had dried up.
The scales have fallen from my eyes; I now see things as they are-as they have always been. The memories still hurt, still make me cringe in embarassment, but the wound has scabbed over. And soon, it will not only be mere scar, a remnant of a bad fall, but also a reminder that I am never to tread down that rocky path again.

2005-09-04T08:05:00.000+09:00

At 26, I feel as though I still have a lot of growing up to do. I have dropped some habits, picked up others; developed some attitudes and ditched a couple, but none of which seems to get rid of this constant numbness at the back of my head. Or is it heart....?
I don't what it is, first of all. Only after I find out can I even go around trying to 'fix' it. Or cultivate it. Or do whatever with it.
I am now driven by a desperation to put an end to self-destructive behavior, to learn to love and care for myself. I need to get a grip on my responsibilities and duties, to stop brooding on the past, and to take any opportunities I might come across-in other words, no longer miss the ship.
How do I begin..? For starters, I thought of looking at my life and realising that every aspect of it is the manifestation of any purpose I might have. And for every undesirable one, I need to actively have it change to be more acceptable.

The way every object is placed in my room (no matter how untidy)-
The weight I am and my general appearance-
The way I talk and the things I say-
The amount/type of friends I have, and how I interact with people-
How I am feeling right now and what I am thinking about-
The clothes I wear-
The time I go to sleep and wake up at-
The way I breathe-
My reponse to things-
How effectively I learn-
How much money I have in the bank-
How much I love my job-

I will begin today. With the things I can change first. Such as tidying up my abode and taking care of my expenditure. Let us see how long it takes me to make the entire list. Life, here I come!!

2005-09-01T06:51:00.000+09:00

"Firmness in enduring and exertion is a character I always wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and cowardly resolve. "
Robert Burns was a man after my own heart. I have stood steadfast by my belief that once I bequeath any affection on anyone; they could rage away like the most catastrophic of storms and I would still stay rooted, true to my word. But I have also learnt that that is the hardest way one could learn how fickle the human mind could be. Every single person I have been faithful and attentive to has turned his back on me, thus leaving me be the 'lone tree by the shore' over and over again.
After years of shock from betrayal, pain, sorrow and turning all the resentment inward, I am now at the end of the road . While I shall always be proud of myself as to how tolerant and faithful I have been, I refuse to pay anymore of emotional currency for that pride. I now am simply going to turn my back myself to those who jump ships, and leave the truth unsaid-that they, the perpetrators, are the ones to have lost a good friend.

2005-08-30T07:20:00.000+09:00

Of all the people to be kind to, one must give priority to the self. After all, if you can't be kind to yourself, whom can you be kind to then? But then, again, what exactly do I mean by 'be kind to'? Caring, accepting, forgiving and loving. I do none of those things for myself. I have always been harsh and unforgiving, and I push myself to lengths that are not only unrealistic, but also unfair. On the other hand, however, I fail to be even remotely strict or rigid with others, with the obvious result of having them walk all over me. Some have gone to the length of taking advantage of my incapability to protest against anything or simply used me whenever they needed me as a last resort. There is no one to blame there but me, I know. I believe in forgiveness and acceptance. I think it is vital that one takes things and people as they are; keeping in mind that we are all but human, and imperfections come with the package. In fact, they are almost desirable. Isn't life all about finding what you need to work on and do it, anyway...? And yet, I can't do that simple act of kindness to myself. I can't accept that I am not perfect in my own eyes; I take a perverse delight in putting myself through the torment of self-abusive thought and slashing at my self-esteem, as though I were a bully and it is a frightened, whining child inside whose weakness I despise.
I believe this behavior arises from stunted psychological growth. When I look at myself from an outsider's perspective, I see tolerance at such extreme levels that it can only come with an ulterior motive-for people to like me and admire me. I desire that so much because I had none of it as a child. I suppose that part of me never grew up; I am still the frightened 7-year old who bent over backwards to please everyone so that they might fulfill my longing for some affection. I am ashamed to admit, nothing's altered. Although I have progressed into choosing whom I show this weakness of mine to, I still let them walk all over me.
I place a lot of importance on sticking to one's word. Once I take a liking to someone, and they have shown me any sort of kindness, big or small, I will go the length of the world for them. But the sort of people I do this to seem to be more inclined towards psychoanalyzing me, and then treating me with contempt. Taking me for granted, in other words. I don't know what to do about this. I could put up a wall once this happens, but as I said earlier, keeping my word is very important to me, and I can't go back on caring for someone or wanting to give them something they might ask of me.
Will nobody appreciate this about me? Will I have to resort to being a recluse so that I may avoid the pain and anugish that goes with rejection? Better safe than sorry, yes, but it fills my soul with such sadness to know that I am going to have to close my mind and heart to any sort of bonding, or affection. I am forever going to be the wide-eyed 7-year old, filled with such aching desire to be loved and cherished......

2005-08-29T22:58:00.000+09:00

I'm so tired. So very tired. The fatigue runs deep within me; I can feel it in my bones. I don't want to move. Or to think. Or even feel. I'm exhausted from years of disappointment, loss and self-admonition. I do not want to regret and punish myself with constant reprimanding and depriving any more. I want to simply lay down and forget about the world. I want to sink down into mindless sleep, and never resurface. I want to drown in the empty dark abyss of nothingness, to leave this constant misery that is gnawing through me mercilessly.
I am so insecure and unhappy. I will never be the bright, spirited girl I once was. I am now a mess of self-loathing and incompetence. And that is all I will ever be, for that is all I am left with. For, you see, this is a vicious cycle. In order to feel more secure and content, I need to respect myself. And in order to respect myself, I need to be more secure, and content with the way things are. Tell me, which came first-the chicken or the egg?
Happiness is the mirage I learnt a long time ago to give up on. I am forever now stuck in the dry, parched desert of loneliness and worry. Whatever must have I done, eh, in order to burn in such hell....?

2005-08-25T12:38:00.000+09:00

How spotless the sky; a cool, calm refreshing blue
How serene the ocean
How spiritual the sight of both
mingling with each other in a silent and yet equally overwhelming way
How wondrous these children of nature
these wombs in themselves of biological life
these ethereal secrets of creation.
How still the moment; how tranquil the air
How peaceful the soul.
How detached from the worldly,
and yet, how one with the cosmos,
the metaphysical, and the subconscious
How irrelevant time, emotion and thought
How just the light of life, that spark within the self
illuminating everything in and around
becoming one with the atman, with the eternal,
the nothing and the everything.

I have been awakened. I shall arise.
I shall go through this stage, en route my true destination
through this manifestation-life in the physical world.
I am here. there. Everywhere.
And yet, nowhere.

2005-08-25T12:34:00.000+09:00

Freedom
I yearn to be free. Free of
-the bonds that tie me up
-the fears that hold me back
-the illusions that lead me astray
-the anxiety and apprehension that weigh me down
-this life, a farce on the cosmic stage.
I yearn to break free, to soar high, up in the sky,
rid of all the burden
to reach out for eternal peace
to touch its brilliance
and be one with it.

2005-08-22T13:20:00.000+09:00

Desperate times call for desperate measures. And yet, how desperate really is acceptable? I am forever at battle with these urges and feelings that I know, if implemented, will cause me nothing but anguish and acute embarassment. At a time when I am dealing with the mortification of being read too much into and judged, I find it hard to decipher where that fine line might be-the line between acceptable and undesirable.

2005-08-18T21:02:00.000+09:00

Sometimes, when I close my eyes and concentrate real hard, I can fly. I can defy the rules of gravity and soar high, up above the rooves and tree-tops. I can feel the wind rush across my face and make my clothes flap. I dance in tune to the wind's many rhythms .
I can see people beneath me, tiny as ants, going about their lives. I can touch fluffy white clouds and play tag with the birds. I can smell the crisp chill of oncoming rain. I can see the collected clamness of the ocean before she breaks out in waves. I can gaze at close quarters the regal stature of mountains.
I can shed my burdens-the different sized weights of anguish, worry and care, one by one. Soon, I become light and soft, and float as freely and weightlessly as a feather. I merge with the serenity of the sky.
As twilight nears, such peace fills my soul that I nearly forget about having to descend to the physical world. Reluctantly, I return, and the minute my feet touch the Earth, the responsibilities and pressures of life attach themselves onto me, and I become heavy with care once again. But this time, something's different. I have just realized that the sky awaits me for whenever I should like to return. All I would need to do was close my eyes. And imagine myself flying.

2005-08-16T21:58:00.000+09:00

The Crest of a Migraine
Somewhere, deep within the recesses of my physical brain, pain starts to billow. What is now a dull throb against the rock-hard cranium will soon swell into a massive wave of excrutiating agony, thinning the air and dimming the light. And as it surges forward, it will flow towards the stomach, creating a roiling, heaving mass. The clouds of nausea will soon darken the skies, and even as the waves hit relentlessly one after another against the skull, my body will crumple in defeat and give way to the evading darkness that will set in.

2005-07-30T13:39:00.000+09:00

The 'source' has always been an enigma for me. Finding out about it, and understanding/accepting/adapting to, or whatever else the knowledge of it might require, will be a major milestone in my journey..but as of now, I think I have many miles to cover before I can reach that blissful stage..I am now preoccupied with answering questions such as
1.What do I want to know/understand, exactly?-The toughest nut to crack
2. Why do I want to?
3. Does there have to be a why? Can't I just learn for the sake of learning?
4. But, isn't a purpose required for everything? If not, what'd keep me going?
It takes immense psychological/emotional/mental discipline and work to not let life influence these questions-or their answers, but even as I say this, I realize that's it's a task on Herculean scales-for me. So what am I doing about it...? I am trying to bring myself to the state of neutrality-no threatening emotions, no befuddling thoughts..and maybe go from there....? Meditation, which I am trying to incorporate into my mad lifestyle, might be a practical first step. It may or may not be where I need to begin, but in the realm of the undefined, does it really matter...?
"Little Drops of Water....make the Mighty Ocean..."
--Julia A. Fletcher

2005-07-30T13:36:00.000+09:00

Focus is what paves the path onward, regardless of what's behind, but that doesn't come easy. One bitter lesson I've had to learn is that there is a price for everything in life, and focusing on and working one's way towards something costs quite a bit in emotional and psychological currency. When life throws its hurdles out with its uncanny ability to time a break in the flow of things-smooth or otherwise, it's rather hard not to get side-tracked-or worse, get dejected all together; in other words, go bankrupt psychologically. In which case, one has to start all over.This time 'round, as I find myself at that very situation, I feel I should start over afresh. I am not exactly an atheist, but the existentialist in me refuses to give 'God' or any other entity the responsibility of seeking and figuring out. And I want to try and percieve things from different angles, instead of just forcing myself to 'forget' ..and so, I am right now exploring those ideas and thoughts that I'd stored away in the deep dark recesses of my mind-in the hope that I will understand better. Understanding is the first step to accepting, isn't it...? Which is what a part of being spiritual is about for me....
"In a dark time the eye begins to see"
--Theodore Roethke

2005-07-28T20:14:00.000+09:00

Change. Inevitable, and seldom for the good. Or is that just the outlook of a jaded 26-year old going on 40? Beats me. And yet, when I look at what I've become, or where I've come from-from bewildered childhood, making a seemingly brief stop at painful adolesence, and now at the crossroads of misguided adulthood, I am as confused and apprehensive as ever. Even more so, if anything. Where have those so-called guiding lights in those various different outfits of experience gone?
I may be speaking out of sheer avarice; I have had many an experience that could possibly pass for the envy of the crowds, and yet, I don't feel as elated as one might expect me to. I mean, look at me. I am still very much the same little girl who longed to be carried on her father's shoulders, to be told how precious I was and how much he loved me. Biological growth has altered that desire slightly-I now long for a strong, steady man who'd do all that with me, to be held and caressed with pure affection. But even though I have sampled that sort of euphoria, I have never been able to hold on to it. True, I am speaking at the moment out of bitterness for my current state of affairs, but I can't help wondering if any change, even if it seems perfect at first, would ever be good for me. All it seems to bring with it are illusions that lead me astray and leave me with the huge bundle of all my past betrayals put in one.
Will I ever be free? Will I ever metamorphosize from this dark, dismal cocoon of dissatisfied existence into a brightly-colored butterfly with wings of joy, and soar the skies of freedom? Will I ever be able to look at my own reflection in the droplets of moisture and smile in contention? Will I ever be rid of the terrible weights of anguish and loss? Will I ever feel alive? Glad to have been brought into this world, which, in all honesty, is as beautiful as it is depraved?