Desi Girl Called Isheeta

When I becomes We

So it finally hit me over the weekend that it's not just about me anymore.

I've been single for SO LONG that... that... I forgot what it was like to be with someone.

Once upon a time, I used to think that it took two to tango. Then I was alone for so long that I decided I didn't need to tango! I scrapped the tango stuff and decided I was better off free-stylin. Ooooh yeah baby!

I don't know. Yes, I have dated quite a bit. But in the past few years, I have actually stopped enjoying the dating process. I looked forward to the dinners... and thats it. I had a standard date sweater/dress. I didnt even have to think what to wear on a date, because I had tried-and-tested outfits for the 1st, 2nd, 3rd dates! I had no templates for dates past 4th dates because ... well, never went beyond that! I dated for the sake of finding someone, so my parents could be reassured that hey, I AM trying. I am trying to find a decent son-in-law for them. I AM trying to settle down and do the obligatory daughter duty to get married. Even dating Sandwich was a process. Trying too hard for No love. All fake.

I remember in 2008, the prospect of staying in on a Saturday night was almost sacrilege/blasphemous. I would get anxious just contemplating the thought of doing nothing all weekend. I mean, yes, I could do laundry, I could have a quiet Me/Spa Day in my bathtub, I could just order take-out, I could rent a movie and cry in my ice-cream, my single friends seemed to have all shacked up, I could go out with my married friends, but.. I AM young! I am not a cliche. Why should I do that?

And then before you know it, I got used to all of the cliches. I actually looked forward to a Me Day on a Saturday night. I looked forward to rentals and sleeping in early. I got really comfy. My cat had more of a social life for Pete's sakes, he came home around 11 while I was asleep by 10.

Long weekends spending it ALONE. I couldnt even go away. GO away alone.. what the hell? I could be alone in my own bathtub or closet, I didnt need to pay 800$ for some resort in the Dominican! I had never spent so much time alone as I had last year. It was awful. I didn't really blame anyone (sure I bitched in ze blog but whatever). Friends can't always hang out with you because sometimes they have commitments with their loved ones. And even when you hang out with them, you see them in happy embrace with their loved ones. And that sucked ass. I found it so hard to put up the charade of being happily single, when all I wanted to do was to go to a cave and die. I didn't even want anyone to shack up with in the cave. I just wanted to be alone without pretending anything else.

But eventually I started loving going to the gym and doing the crazy fitness classes for me. I started to develop my own preferences for dressing up, and not to please some guy. I cooked for me, and not to show off my culinary skills for some guy. I developed my own lame sense of humour, and I liked it. I also had friends who really helped me figure out who I am, and I love them for it.

I guess I fell in love with me. Does that sound lame?

And then suddenly, you meet someone who wants all of you, and then you find yourself having to re-assess/re-adjust to accommodate that person. Not a lot, just a bit, and then maybe some more. BUT STILL the fact remains that it IS a readjustment. Yes, the grass does start to look greener from the other side.

And thats when you tell the world of single people that hey, maybe you guys ARE better off!

AND NOW... now, its completely upside down.

Now I feel like I have absolutely no time alone. It's not that I crave it alone.... well, sometimes I do. It's just that I feel like there are so many other little things you have to do, along with taking care of yourself too! The other person is doing it, and you want to as well. I'm just not used to being SO... with someone else. It's just that its always been about me!

I went to the Russell Peters show the other day, and Russell was saying how guys just LOVE to sit by themselves alone, and stare into space and think about NOTHING for half an hour. Their mind REALLY is totally blank. I was thinking at that point that hey, thats ME!!! there are moments when I am thinking of Nothing! and I love it! I am such a guy, haha.

But now, there's someone who wants to be such a part of you, and it's still so early days, that you don't always have that luxury of "me time". There are things to do, people to meet, things to plan... so much shit to do, so little time. Sometimes it can get a bit overwhelming, and I am left to wonder if I am actually cut out for this.

I have enjoyed my single life for so long.. it was such a bliss to be SO carefree and not have to think about consequences of actions, that I have become absolutely spoilt. Now, I have to do a 180, and actually start thinking like someone in a relationship. ME?! In a relationship? What the bejeezus?!

I have never, ever, had a regular, normal relationship. I have never been in a relationship where it was 2 sided. I have never lived with someone. I have never been in a relationship where I have not had to hide someone from my family. I have never have a regular, good old-fashioned relationship like everyone in Canada where you tell someone this is my boyfriend/girlfriend/fiance/fiancee. And now, I am all of that.

And sometimes I feel like I am doing such a bad job at it. I have forgotten what it was like to be romantic. I have forgotten what it was like to wait for someone to call you. I have forgotten that sometimes you should be the one making the call. I have forgotten that spontaneity is more than just a skydiving experience on short notice. Sometimes you gotta pay the compliments IN ADDITION to receiving them. Sometimes you need 2 spoons for the dessert. Sometimes you gotta hear the other person speak as well! I used to think it was lame that you have to talk to someone you love every single day. Like really, they're still there the next day, aren't they? And why do you have to tell them everything? Who cares what you ate for lunch? So what if I have a headache? How is me telling you about it fixing my headache? Shouldn't weekends be just good enough to see someone? If I'm mad at you, can't you just go home, sleep on it, and be ok the next day or write an email like you would to a friend and apologize and everything should be ok? Why do you have to do SO MUCH MORE? 

This relationship process just seemed to be more like a "out of the frying pan and into the fire" type of thing.

But I'm ok now.

I'm starting to... slowly, really slowly realize that hey, maybe it does take two to tango. Sometimes you don't always have to know how to tango. Sometimes you just have to try and make do and improvise and follow the steps as they go along. In fact, sometimes it doesnt even look like a tango anymore, it starts to resemble more like a hop-skip-and-jump sorta thing. But at least now when you hop, or skip, or jump, or even fall... you have someone to fall back on.

It's kinda nice. :)

Conundrum

You know how sometimes you wish you were that 1-in-a-million-odds that was struck by lightning, or that blimp that was hit by the speeding truck, or that human beanpole that ran into that very sharp object because sometimes you just can't take it anymore when your parents ask you why you are punishing THEM because you are content with YOUR singlehood? You know how sometimes you get all dolled up to go to a desi gathering because it means you don't have to cook dinner, only to realize as you are spooning heapfuls of butter chicken on your plate that your presence at this soiree was an open call for an ambush by rotund auntijis who are hell-bent on a mission to find the perfect "boy" for you because apparently a marriage is to a desi girl just like Preparation H is to hemmorhoids? You know how one day after going through numerous unthinkable unforgettable dates and going through the trials and tribulations of heartbreaks and heartaches with hottie biscottis and Adonises, geeks and nerds, Prince Charmings and Prince of Thieves, religious zealots and religion haters, social conformists and social butterflies, post-modern intellectuals and accountants, you finally put your foot down and announce to the world that indeed you have had enough of this facade called soulmate search and have finally surrendered to the possibility that you will actually live the stereotype of the North American dream of living with your 10 soulmate cats while rocking in a chair dressed in a bridal outfit in which you can't tell where the laces end and the cobwebs begin a la Miss Havisham? You know how one day you are so disillusioned by this elusive dream of "love" and "chemistry" and "passion" that you decide you want to kick youself for being the only moron on the planet for even harbouring said dreams of "fate" and "destiny" that you have lived through vicariously via The Notebook, Romeo & Juliet, Chocolat, Life Is Beautiful even Kabhi Kushu Kabhi Gham for Pete's sake, when it wasn't even in your stars to begin with?

You know how one day your world turns completely upside down because finally, out of the blue, the one you were meant to be with finally finds you, when you least expect it and not even interested, just like how everyone said you would, when you were least expecting it? You know how one day you have to swallow your words as you realize that yes, there is a method to the madness, that maybe you were meant to go through a lot of hell to reach your own brand of personal heaven, that maybe your number finally came up with the Big Guy Upstairs and He really doesn't hate you as you thought He did?

You know how the irony of all this is that somehow everyone around you is insanely happy for your happiness and super excited for you, and instead of you mirroring their uber-excitedness and jumping up and down just like you visualized a million times akin to winning the 100 metres in the Olympics, and instead of you screaming at the top of your lungs to every man/woman/dog/plant/seashell out there that you are finally not a broken record anymore because he REALLY makes you happy (alhamdullillah), and instead of it hitting you that shitshitshitshitamIdreaming because IT. FINALLY. HAPPENED, you continue to live your day-to-day life as normal without exhibiting any of the screaming euphoria that should be accompanied by screams, tears of joy, cries of jubilee, mass spam calls to every person in your phone while your voice is laced with sickening giddy happiness recounting every little detail that your beau said or did or will do?

Yeah... if that was me, I couldn't explain it either.

The Ugly Truth

So the only thing that is making more news than the recession or Mel Gibson's soon-to-be-ex-wife's new lottery winnings (half a f****** BILLION, daaaaaaaaaaamn) is apparently the "ugly" woman who sings like an angel from Britain's Got Talent.

Granted we all have different opinions and perspectives in life that sets us apart from each other, but really.... why is everyone hell-bent on calling this woman ugly?

The looks the audience gives her before she is set to perform are cruel and mortifying. It was so obvious that she was being judged based on her looks the minute she got onto the stage. Even one of the judges rolled his eyes, and in a surprising twist Simon was not even his usual mean self (maybe he learnt from the Potts' guy, haha). But the people, their reactions.. it was like they couldn't imagine how someone so "ugly" could sing so beautifully, how an "ugly" woman reduced all these "beautiful" people to tears. Would they have had the same reaction if she had some sort of a "real" disability?

Even the people at my workplace thinks she's ugly, and they're no Angelina Jolies themselves. I don't get it. I have seen ugly, and trust me this ain't ugly. In fact, I find her cute. Her feisty attitude is adorable. She has never been kissed, but I refuse to believe it's because she is "ugly". Yes she needs help in the make-up and hair department, but even a model needs that these days with our delusional, elevated perception of what constitutes beauty. Yes I know she's not some young 20-something-dingaling with legs from her to eternity, but c'mon, really, do you think she's ugly?????

If you have seen half the men I have dated, you would agree she is NOT ugly. Not even close, na uh!

Maybe my standards are low, I don't know. I remember when I dated Sandwich, people would look at us funny, from the waiters to kids passing by. I kinda knew why, but really.... I REALLY thought he had a great heart. NOW I realize he was practically brainless with a really simple heart, haha, but I never saw him as ugly, despite comments from even my family members who said he was "meh" and I was too "hot" for him. If someone has a good heart, it's really easy to look past the superficial. 

I remember until I had my first-and-last ever real "relationship" I was very judgemental on looks. Sometimes I still am, so I'm just as bad, yes. Then one day you fall in love, and you realize that seeing yourself in someone's eyes is way more satisfying, than seeing yourself in the mirror and seeing how others judge you with him.

Sorry about the rant, maybe I'm getting too old for this. People can be so cruel when it comes to looks sometimes. I was an ugly duckling throughout my teens. I hated looking at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I'd go to bed crying (waitaminit I still do these days!) I don't even know how I got through it. Wait I do remember.. oh yeah, it hurt like a bitch! I was called fat, short (still am, dammit!), a nerd AND ugly - the cream of the crop! Sometimes its all fun and games, but sometimes people do it so openly at others' expense for something really petty that it bites.

The laughee just looks helpless, and bravely holds it in as they are being laughed at by the laughers. Until the laughee starts to sing like an angel and gives the laughers a reason to cry. Only you can't tell if the laughers are crying now because they''ve never heard anything so beautiful in their lives, or because they want to kick themselves for being such shallow little cows.

It is at that moment when you take it all in that you a acquire a sudden dose of perspective -  a sense of irony coupled with a healthy dose of crying shame.

*sigh* Again, sorry to be a drama queen, like I said... I'm getting too old for this!

Mid-life crisis

I thought I'd throw in a mid-life crisis now, maybe it'll go along with the global recession thing.

I've been meaning to write some of this for a while, but I kept pushing it back.

Today, we had one of our life insurance/health benefits/retirement meetings at work because the company is changing the providers or something. Everyone at the meeting had a zillion and one questions about their benefits and possible scenarios. These are *possibly* all interesting questions, because well.. when you retire, these people will have to depend on their RRSP(401K to you Americans) and what not other incomes etc or possible benefits packages. Questions ranged from the droll (dental) to why 25$ in deductibles will be charged again.

And then I thought about... well, my scenario. Or more specifically, my family's.

My dad has worked at least 50 years of his life. He's a self-made man, and to cut a long story short, the man has no debts, no mortgage, never had insurance or benefits to fund his life-long diabetes or to take care of his family, and needless to say, he has done a stellar job.

And here I am, slaving away at a job I have gotten really bored of, at a lifestyle I have come to look at with pity, at a community of desi people (excluding my friends, of course!) who I just can't fathom.

What am I doing here?

I have literally won a lottery, and I'm not even taking advantage of it. My family business, while not glamourous, can fund 3 weddings in 3 different countries, and I'm whining and complaining about my dead-end job and how I need to save to buy a pair of shoes or dress. If you won the lottery, would you still work a dead 9 to 5 job? If you say yes, you're a liar.

I have somehow stumbled upon a man with great chemistry who dotes on me (well he found me, actually), and I'm overwhelmed at how I'm this close to attaining perfection of my previous dreams of being a perfect mom with kids at a house with picket fences, making sandwiches for tea while the husband hugs you and whispers sweet nothings delicately in your ears. It's just unfortunate that I find myself somewhat conflicted at the same time because maybe I've become so jaded, so disillusioned by everything lately that I'm starting to wonder if I'm enjoying the moment because it's what I was told I needed to attain at a certain phase in my life, or because it's what I really want.

I don't even know if I really event want that anymore. This lifestyle where you slave away all your life, looking to settle down with the perfect house and the perfect wife.... which is what my dad did, but he did it in a way where he never had to cry about 25$ in deductibles or make it such a big deal. This... work-till-you-die attitude of North America, when you retire you have meagre savings - I can't do it. I'm spoiled. Is that all there is to it?

I need a change. I think I need to move. 

Temporarily out of stock: Pandora's box

I love the fact that as human beings, we're not completely hopeless.

I have a propensity to give a LOT to the people I care about. I will never (again) give my heart to anyone unless I know they are capable of doing the same for me, completely. So far, only my parents have succeeded in this realm, and since they have been around longer than most people I have met, suffice it to say that they won't have competition for a while. Which sucks for my future hubby, but oh well, haha! Sometimes I give in so much because honestly, I have nothing better to do with my life. I get amused AND bored easily - a double-edged sword, if you will. It's sad knowing that my mood is dependent on the lives of people that I am surrounded with. Bad Isheeta. I'm not claiming I'm Mother Teresa (bless her soul), because I can be an evil biatch too if Im surrounded by evil people. What I'm saying is, I'm the most gullible, easily influenced person I know.

I fall for things very easily - be it man, woman, cat, plant. And at the same time, I can fall out of them very easily too, if they have done something really stupid (or not) to piss me off. So I suppose you can say my emotions are fleeting... which would make me a fake-o. Thats awful, but unfortunately, c'est moi.

At the same time, its reassuring to know that no matter how much a person has hurt someone (e.g. me), or have been hurt (also me), GIVEN ENOUGH TIME and circumstances... you get over all the shit (eg me... AND other people). You wake up one day, years later, and you dust off all the crapshit and you say, ok, time to deal. I like how I have (stupidly) let myself get hurt by many people in my life, and I don't hate them (not completely, ok!), and I have forgotten about them, and I have recovered and I have lived through it.. and let live.

I love it. I love this feeling. It's such a release. Its an awesome feeling. It's like one day everything is perfect, and one day you realize everything is not and you feel as if you are being watched.... and then years later, you realize it was all in your head anyways, and everything is perfect again.

Well, nothing is perfect, but some of the time it is perfect, and right now just knowing this transitory feeling of perfectness exists gives me hope.

Faith and hope is all we have when we have nothing left to give. So I love the fact that as human beings, we're not completely hopeless.

To sleep, perchance to...... stay awake??

When I used to talk to possible prospects, the nice ones would sometimes ask me why someone who seemed *so* perfect (NO, not them!) was still single.

And I'd say, I dunno. Maybe cuz my latent issues were just not so obvious when they met me the first time. Maybe I was cursed. Maybe when push came to shove, I drove them away. Maybe I was too nitpicky. Maybe I was fat, hence I was overlooked. Maybe cuz I'm too short. Maybe cuz of my curly hair. Maybe I talked too much. Maybe I didn't talk enough. Maybe I was too intimidating. Maybe I wasn't assertive enough.  Maybe I couldn't keep up with the conversation. Maybe my job wasn't professional enough. Maybe cuz I lived in the suburbs with my parents.

I hate wasting my time thinking about why I'm single, because being single is NOT a disease, it's actually quite fun. Plus, there are more useful reasons to have sleepless nights over.

But yesterday, tossing and turning to yet another sleepless night, I finally figured out why I'm single. It's yet another of my flaws, and I'm cursed with it. But would it be a deal-breaker? Yeppers!

I couldn't help but think long and hard about what my friends have said to me in the past when I spent some quality time with them in holiday destinations and resorts. I value their opinions because when you go away on vacations with your friends, you're stuck with them for more than a few hours, and that is when you eventually let your guard down. I even grilled my little brother about it, because he's been the only one who has spent so much quality time with me, mostly when I fall asleep on the couch while we watch Law And Order or House. 

I think I finally know what it is!

To test my theoretical answer, I asked some of my (online) friends who I have known for a long time, but who have never really spent time with me, but who would like to spend time with me if distance wasn't such an issue, what they would do if they were subjected to this ....flaw of mine.

And they kinda failed the test.

Which means its definitely more than just a flaw.  It can definitely be a deal-breaker for most. Which means it is yet one of the many reasons why I'm single.

I...ummm... sometimes when I sleep... I sort of... like... breathe heavy... like lightly, not too much... thats been the consensus...

Ok, I snore!

There!

A light snorer, though, more like heavy breathing.

STILL.

Why would anyone want me now?!

Now when every twat asks why I'm single, I never have to think too hard with assumptions.

This way, they, too, will have sleepless nights... about me. Hahaha!

Intangible Love

You know what's the best part about liking someone who doesn't live in the same city as you?

The fact that *when* you know when it's going to be over (cuz lets face it... it will), every other dessert lounge/coffee bar/movie/favourite romantic spot that you have NOT frequented in town will NOT remind you of him. Because you guys never spent that precious time doing all those favourite things that normal couples take for granted.

Your memories have nothing to do with sharing that waffle cone of Jamoca Almond Fudge from Baskin Robbins.
Your memories do not entail you crying over that chick flick rental on a rainy night while he helped himself to some extra salsa and pizza.
Your memories did not involve subjecting that poor guy to endless hours of prime-time shopping companion on a Saturday afternoon.
Your memories do not compromise of you two sitting in front of the lake at the Harbourfront while you debated the merits of something silly like why cupcakes taste better when they have frosting.

What you did instead is spend endless weeknights talking on AIM.
What you did is giggle every time your Nokia phone let out that standard "1 New Message" because you know its not Fido telling you that you have used up all of your daytime minutes.
What you did is discuss over the phone why Denny Crane (from "Boston Legal") should run for President of the World and how Stewie Griffin (from "Family Guy") should be his VP.
What you did is visualize how you would plant a wet one on his cheeks and ruffle his hair when he finally came to see you in town.

What you did is reminisce about the events that never came into fruitition.

I don't know what is more of a consolation prize here - the fact that getting over someone in this case belongs to the category of "out of sight, out of mind" and hence crying in the pillow every night will be an event shorter than the season of Oprah's Big Give, or the fact that you are strangely calm knowing that you knew *in that time* that you were heading to a labyrinth, and so when it doesn't work out, you... just... get... over... it.... unfortunately.

I've never been one to covet long distance relationships. It just doesn't work with me. You would think that given my nature to forego all the pleasures in the world for a surreal, utopian kind of love that transcends time and distance, I would be all gung-ho about it. But the reality is the opposite, because I'm a little more messed up than that - to me, love cannot be complete without passion, and passion cannot be complete if you are unable to look at someone's eyes every time you feel  that inkling of desire for them.

I will admit, however, that I have been open to the whole long distance crap on more than one occasion.  That... is the irony, ladies and gents. I have tried, because the type of people I seem to be inexplicably drawn to definitely do not reside anywhere within 100 kms of me. Canadians - bah! They are either in America, or England, or South Africa, or the guy who owns some island in Bora Bora, or hell, or.... Australia.

As much as I love my fabulous life, sucks to be me sometimes.

But AJ, my Ozzie friend, you suck MORE because you KNOW that you're getting knee deep in some(thing/one) because you're doing it all within home base! Unless you pull an "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", you're going to be stuck with more than just memories of favourite spots!

The Paradox Of Our Age, by Dr. Bob Moorehead

(Not by me... but I had to put it up!)

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, yet more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; big men and small character; steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce; fancier houses but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.

Remember, spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember to say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember to say "I love you" to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak, and give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

Dr. Bob Moorehead is former pastor of Seattle's Overlake Christian Church. He retired in 1998 after 29 years in that post. The essay appeared in 'Words Aptly Spoken,' Dr. Moorehead's 1995 collection of prayers, homilies, and monologues used in his sermons and radio broadcasts.

Letting go of your dreams....

... to embrace reality.

This can be a hard sell, I'll tell you that.

Little white girls grow up dreaming of that beautiful wedding gown, hair done in a 'do with wisps of loose strands streaming down a sinewy neck laced with her mother's favourite pearls, her shoulders bare in a strapless wedding gown - sometimes the only bit of mystique being that beautiful but matching thin veil that adorns that lovely head. The setting is either a historic old church set in the countryside, or a garden bedecked with matching white patio furniture with white lilies. The 'wild' ones dream of having something close to the beach with the sun setting in the background and the waves lapping up the lovers' feet.

I grew up envisioning red. Lots of lots of red. And yellow. Not daffodil yellow in beautiful meadows, but the yellow that one associates with gold biscuits. Yep, not the bling that one associates with solitaire diamonds, but the bling that one associates with that tacky 21 carat jewellery. Along with those visions are plastered memories of a crying... no, thats too mild.. how about a sobbing hysterical bride as she is jettisoned off from her parents palatial grounds to a car adorned with roses and marigold. She is not waving to the crowds with a wan smile as she is sent off to her husband's home, carefully hiding her happiness at her honeymoon trip to Jamaica once the wedding guests leave. Rather, she is gazing forlornly at her parents.. and her brothers... and her uncles and aunts and nephews and sister's kids and her high school girlfriends sisters and her 10 auntijies who are all sending out the wrong message during this auspicious day by simultaneously bawling their eyes out at the precious little girl that they have seen grow up and now is bethrothed to a ....*gasp* man.

Is it ANY wonder that I had grown up to despise weddings?

I didn't want to be THAT hysterical girl crying and ruining her monkey make-up!

I come from a family of boys. For the longest time, my dad made sure I had everything that my brothers had, and more. I remember when I was getting my ears pierced (I was 10) and while it was a rite of passage for most young girls, to my dad it was a day with dark clouds. I guess he couldn't get over the fact that his only daughter was just not going to be one of his boys anymore. He began to accept the fact that one day, like all fathers, he would have to give away his daughter to someone else's hand in marriage (amid a sea of hysterical relatives).

I think my dad was sadly off with his timing - I'm sure he expected me to be gone MUCH sooner, but daddy's little girl is STILL home.. so he must be eating his words.

So coming to Canada, living the Canadian dream, graduating with an undergrad, getting Canadian work experience, and assimilating to the Canadian culture and lifestyle (party it up while young, get a good paying job, hanging out with desi buddies), I didn't envision anything less for me. I assumed like all my desi friends, I would meet someone... somewhere... who would sweep me off his feet with his hilarious sense of humour, his dashing personality and good looks, his keen intellect, his love of the East and the West, his zeal for girls with jhumka earrings and sexy shoes, to meet me. To acknowledge me. To accept me. To want me.

Reality couldn't even be close. Reality is not a glorifed camera that zooms into one's dreams with a 30mm camera (???) and focusing only one's emotions. Reality isn't about living up to stereotypical dreams. Reality isn't Hollywood... or Bollywood. Reality is a bloody documentary channel.

Reality does not provide clues to what's right and what's wrong. You can't rewind reality and fix it later. You can only review it once it has happened. Reality is honest, bitter.. not necessarily loving.

Reality, however, is truth.

I am so sorry, mum and dad, for not living up to your dreams. For having stolen that stereotypical bride-in-red vision from you. I'm trying, but....  I don't know if its the fact that I don't have faith in it anymore because I find the whole concept preposterous given the layers of cynicism that shrouds it, or because it is so hard to reach for it now that I don't even know if I can fathom going through that barbed wire again and again and again, for the umpteenth time, just to fulfill this dream that you have to appease your sanity.

Forgive me, but... I must do what I have to do. I must let go of your dreams, and accept my reality.

How To Lose a Girl in 10 Minutes

When you're just getting to know someone, say a girl, it's always good to assume that she is an emotional person. Now I know what the guys are thinking - most women these days are pretty headstrong, and thus cold-hearted, but if you're looking for something a little more relationship material, or a little less permanent like just trying to get in her pants, it is always safe to assume that she will be an emotional person, simply because.. well, a woman is not a man and thus that is the status quo to assume.

Say, for example, a scenario when the woman you are interested in just got the bad news a relative of hers died. Ouch, tricky tricky! What is a guy to do?

I know! This might be a stab in the dark, but I'm going to give it my best shot here.... how about some sensitivity?!

I mean, ok, so you didn't kill her relative... so its not your fault.. so why should you care... but hey, you're a member of the human race, so try practising some empathy, that should help!

In other words, this is a great opportunity to score some brownie points! A shoulder to cry on, if you will. A side showing your softer, gentler, understanding side.

A few days ago, some guy who hasn't talked to me in ages (and so barely knows me) suddenly calls me out of the blue. He is pretty pleasant, so I play it cool.

The next day, he calls me again. I am, at this time, devastated by the news and when he asks me what's new, I tell him the bad news, and that well, I'm a bit preoccupied since I'm not really sure what to do when someone I know has died.

He says oh. Then he goes on talking. About the Autoshow. Laughing. Jokes. Thats nice. I'm all goosebumps (sarcasm). I really don't feel like talking to this twit by now so I tell him I gotta go and about to hang up when...he asks me what I'm doing for the weekend. I tell him, most probably attending the funeral and grieving with the family cuz that is what people do when someone dies.

He goes.. after a few minutes.. so do you want to go out for coffee over the weekend?

Yeppers! See what I mean? He could have scored a million brownie points... but not only did he throw away the brownies, but he also made sure there will be no batter, now or ever!

Another facet to observe when you're faced with bad news that would mean someone is going to be grieving for a while, is the delicate issue of sensitivity in timing.

Observe.

I got invited to a Raptors game. Now, if you are a man.. lets call him... Dying To Get In Your Pants (DTGIYP), who's been trying for the longest time, you would think this was the ideal opportunity to offer comfort and solace... secondary goals are key (comfort and solace) to ensure your eventual acquisition of the primary goal (getting into pants).

So DTGIYP offers a shoulder to cry on.

On Saturday, while still going through rituals of mourning, something really bad happens to my mum. She is, to put it mildly, bleeding from places where she shouldn't be. My mum is frazzled for her bleeding self as well as her relatives, my dad is frazzled that my mum is frazzled and injured to boot, and I'm frazzling exponentially by now because my dad being diabetic and hypertensive is not good news for frazzling purposes, period.

So I take my mum to Emergency, which should really be renamed to the Extended Torturous Resort, because after having gone to Emergency for my nephew, my brother, my sis-in-law and now my mum, I'm well aware that in Canada, that is exactly what it is. Unless you show up with your head cut off, the staff of 2 doctors and 10 nurses in Emergency do not have the power to give you the precious treatment you so need during the 10 hours you spend waiting for them to see you.

Since DTGIYP is somewhat in health care, I sms him for advice. DTGIYP is not much help, but he is sincere, which is nice. Half an hour later, when my mum is still waiting for the doc to see her, and I am still freaking out... DTGIYP sms'es me...

"so, just to confirm.. you're not able to make it to the Raptors game on sunday, yeah? Ive got someone else in mind, so don't worry about me.. hope things get better"

Wow. Tackiness breeds contempt, anyone?!

At 2 am Sunday morning, DTGIYP sms me to confirm again.. that Ive cancelled for Sunday... and if I can get away. Nothing about my mum. Is she alive or dead? nope, nothing. Definitely someone you would want to bring home to your parents, n'est-ce pas?! I told him I wasn't in the mood... because frankly, I'm never EVER going to be in the mood at this rate for this lew-ser.

You know, if there's anything I've learned, is that it's always good to know who your fair-weathered friends are in dire situations.

As for the doctors.. well, maybe Grey's Anatomy has spoiled me. Life, or doctors, are nothing like Grey's. Welcome to reality baby. But I guess when you see people dying every day, you sort of become desensitized to the people you're helping.

The doctor that saw my mum was really rude. We waited for 10 hours, and he sees her for 2 minutes. His biggest concern was WHY we didn't take my mum to her family physician (who is on vacation). He finally said, "she's fine". That's it. No explanation. No nothing. Apparently bleeding from places she shouldn't be is not really an indicator to worry. I literally ran after him so he could tell me what was wrong with her. He gives me a frustrated look. Well, excuuuuuuuuse me for not having graduated from the school of quack doctors with no bedside manners! The least you can do is tell me what the fuck is wrong with my mother so I never have to come see your ugly mug and waste that precious 2 minutess of your godforsaken life, you fucking moron!

You know, I'm the gopher when it comes to taking my family to the hospital. By now, I should have accumulated enough frequent flier miles for hospital trips to earn me all inclusive round-trip tickets to the Seychelles! I've been in the Emergency Rooms of 3 major hospitals, for 4 different occasions.. and none of them were for me. I've seen enough sick people to make me want to go to the gym every day for the rest of my life. I don't want to live forever, but I do want to live a life where I never have to see a doctor again. When I die, my one wish is that people don't bawl their eyes out like crazy or if I get run over by a truck, please take me home and switch on the Borat movie - do not take me to Emergency where I will probably bleed out while waiting for those precious doctors who really don't have the time nor the bedside manners to see me.

Stuck in a place where I was surrounded by people better AND worse off than me, in a place that was filled with never-ending consumption of caffeine laced with frustration, having seen bouts of desensitization in so many people, I realized that ... man, it is so easy to lose faith - in yourself (inversely proportional to your faith in God though!). It becomes so easy to become cynical. To question motives. To question meaning. To question people. To question your choices in everything that you do.

I've questioned a lot about myself over the weekend. Will I leave any sort of legacy for people to look past my death within 30 seconds and bring up conversations about Autoshows or Raptors games anytime soon? Am I doomed to meet losers? Will I ever get a professional job and have minions working under me? Will I ever figure out how to work the TV and DVD and the satellite simultaneously?! Will I ever find a decent pair of jeans that I don't have to hem? Will they ever make hospitals in my lifetime where an Emergency situation is taken care of immediately? Will I ever get to meet Chuck Norris?!

I know, riveting stuff. Makes you question life, the validity of your being... I dunno, maybe its my way of being desensitized to the holy crapola around us. 10 minutes, 10 days, 10 years - does it really matter at the end of the day?  You lose so much just by being like these doctors desensitized little Florence Nightingales and dipwads. I hope by watching what these guys have lost, I become the kind of person who would be anything but.