Brian threw a quick, nervous glance at the clock, the second-hand ticking down the moments of his life. His pale freckled forehead dripping perspiration, his normally red hair now auburn in color as each follicle was plumped up and coated with nervousness and fear. BOOM! The ticking of the clock thunderously resonated in his ears and […]
My take on being engaged to a man with children was simple : they will be my kids and I will care for them as my mother did for me. Their father is a very capable and efficient parent, having dealt with three small boys alone for ten plus years, which makes my entry into this little family a little easier. And besides I’ve always wanted a big family. But today a new realization hit me as I watched Gary with his second oldest son, singing along to ‘The Last Goodbye’ (after a Tolkein marathon). What is it really like to be a mother?
I have no doubt that I will love the boys like they are my own and they will love me too but I didn’t experience their birth, didn’t tend to them as babies, didn’t watch them walk or talk for the first time and all those other milestones that parents eagerly lookout for. As I watched Gary cuddle with his son, I realized I could not come close to feeling what this man felt for his children, not because I don’t love them but because I have absolutely no idea what he feels for them. It’s not a quantity thing – its a quality thing. What is it like to see your child being born and over time watch that tiny nugget of a human being get bigger, be able to walk, talk, feed himself, dress himself? It suddenly occurred to me that ‘love’ was too simple a term to use for the complex emotion a parent must feel for his/her child although the meaning of ‘love’ is vague and open to individual interpretation. I felt sad thinking I may never get a chance in this lifetime to know this ‘love’or whatever it might be. I’m not sure if its all in my head or some unknown (maybe known?) hormonal reaction prompted by my ageing (and dying) 32 year old eggs that is making me think this way. Maybe this is my body’s last ditch effort at convincing me to get pregnant asap! Well not this year but even thought the chances decrease with each passing year, one can always hope.
…..today he pumped iron while he cooked. That’s right. He decided he was going to cook for himself for all of next week. We were video chatting on Skype as he cooked and while he waited for his food to cook, he decided to do bicep curls. It went like this : stir, 9 right bicep curls, put weight down, stir, 9 left bicep curls. It took two repetitions of this set for his food to finish cooking. This had to be the strangest ovary-exploding experience ever! 😛
Thank you 4 Year Old Adult for nominating me! I hope I’m not too late with this post. I am new to WordPress and was pleasantly surprised to see this although it does feels a little like the infamous Ice Bucket Challenge (for which I was challenged but straight out refused to make and share a video of my embarrassing reaction to being doused in ice cold water, thank you). It still seems like a fun little way to get to know and interact with fellow bloggers so here are the rules:
2. Answer 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
3. Thank the people who nominated you, linking to their blogs.
4. Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking to their blogs.
5. Ask 7 question to the ones you have nominated. This wasn’t on the list but I think it’s a logical addition.
6. Let them know you nominated them (by commenting on their blog etc.)
1. PUT THE AWARD LOGO ON YOUR BLOG. Done. Don’t be a dumb-ass. Check the top of the page.
2. Answer 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
Do you ever bother about what people think about you? Unfortunately, against by better judgement, I do. It’s like a pre-set program in my head I’m trying to erase. It’s the reason I feel my life has not reached it’s optimal potential. I have a pathological need to obsess about what people think about me (or what I think they think about me) and the outcome of this obsession is never productive.
Rate WordPress and social-media on a scale of ten. Erm…..I give it an 8 which is the best I’ve given to any social-media because I can write to my heart’s content although I’m not sure if it’s the WordPress platform or my anonymity that earned it such a high accolade. I know for a fact that my posts on Facebook are limited because friends and family tend to obsess and draw conclusion about my life from them. The only reason I keep Facebook is also the reason I hate Facebook – stalking.
What was the real purpose of starting a blog? When I was in grade school, I loved creative writing. No matter how grounded in life the topics were, I had the flare to take a relatively plain essay topic and turn into an extraordinary piece of fiction. Whether they were good or not , I don’t know. What I do know is the rush I got from writing them. Years of institutional education killed that flare. My real purpose for starting this blog was an attempt at getting back my writing high.
Have you ever tried to spam people for increasing the hits on your blog? Oh I didn’t know you could do that on WordPress. Does it work? Thank for the idea! 😛
How do you rate blogging as a career opportunity? I’ve never thought of blogging as a career opportunity but I have heard of people who have done it successfully. It’s not a career opportunity for me but if you’re good at it why not?
Have you ever hit on your fellow blogger? (This is the kinky one) My husband-to-be is on WordPress. I hit on him every opportunity I get 😉
Observing the current situation all around the world, Do you think that the world needs a makeover? Is this a rhetorical question? How can the answer to this question ever be ‘no’?
3. Thank the people who nominated you, linking to their blogs. Thank you again 4 Year Old Adult. I hope you never grow up!
4. Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking to their blogs. I haven’t had the opportunity to interact with a whole lot of bloggers. I will nominate the few that I have had some interactions with.
Erm….I can’t think of anyone else. Can I nominate you again 4 Year Old Adult? Don’t judge! I’m a self admitted unnecessarily complicated introvert.
5. Ask 7 question to the ones you have nominated. My questions are :
1. Has blogging influenced your life in anyway – positive or negative?
2. What kind of blogs do you enjoy reading?
3. What are some of your simple pleasures in life?
4. What/who got you started on WordPress?
5. Any bad experiences in the WordPress community (creeps, stalkers etc.)?
6. Facebook or WordPress – what is your preferred social media platform?
7. Pirates or Ninjas?
Looking forward to your responses 🙂
6. Let them know you nominated them (by commenting on their blog etc.) Done and done! So when do I get my award? 😛
…….is getting over what I think people think of me. I acknowledge the fact that I may be reading the signs wrong and no one has said anything to my face which leads me to believe that what how I imagine others perceive me is actually my perception of myself. But that would mean I’d have to add ‘judgmental b***h’ to my list of vices. It’s this weird funk I go into sometimes. I began to think what that person, that I knew way back when, would think or say about me when they learn of my current predicaments and it brings me down so much that the rest of my day ends up in shambles. I blame it on being raised in a society focused on outside appearance. Also I wish I could pull out that little child in my head – the one that is constantly afraid and confused by people regardless of their relevance. Sigh. Life.
People living in New York don’t seem to be interested in spending NYE at Time’s Square. For some its a been-there-done-that situation while others are overwhelmed by the crowd and general discomfort associated with watching the ball drop. Let me elaborate on the discomforts – first of all it’s a mission to just get in, secondly it’s freezing cold and last but certainly not the least, no bathrooms once you’re in. But for oblivious out-of-staters like H and myself, the idea of watching the ball drop was too grand an idea to let such petty inconveniences dampen our spirits. Oh we learned the hard way!
At around 3, T and I headed back to get H from the hotel, after lunch and a quick walk through the Empire State building, Macy’s (the biggest store in the world apparently) and some light-weight sight seeing. Now, T had been constantly dropping hints of his disinterest about Time’s Square. Seeing his attitude, I too began to re-evaluate the idea of waiting hours in the freezing cold just to see a ball drop especially with no bathrooms. But H was adamant. This was something you get to do once in a lifetime, she explained, she wasn’t going to get another chance and she had looked forward to this for a month. Seeing our doubtful faces, she proceeded to head in the direction of Times Square on her own at which point I decided ‘oh what the heck! I want to do this too!’ T was not pleased. He agreed to take us there but was firm about not going in with us.
We walked God-knows-how-many blocks to the entrance at 48nd street and were told that it had filled up and we had to go in through 52nd. We turned around, thanking the police officer who had provided us with the information, only to see a crowd of people behind us already making a run for the 52nd. T and H were ready to run too but, against my better judgement, I had decided to wear a pair of stylish new pair of boots instead of my old worn out snow boots. Needless to say, my feet were already blistered so running was definitely not in the stars for me that day.
Long story short, we were able to get in at 52nd street. T said goodbye and left while H and I continued on our quest to ‘cross one off the bucket list’. Once we were on Manhattan avenue though we became thoroughly confused. We could see the tower from which the ball would drop clearly, but there were cleared out barricaded areas at each block that people were standing around. It seemed other people were just as confused – probably because most of them were first timers too. Not sure what happened next, we decided to use the bathroom at a bakery, since there would be no bathrooms once we were in but wren’t we in already? And if so, we would always have bathroom access in this bakery right? Let’s just get our business done and then figure things out, we decided. The bakery was totally profiting from their prime location and the hoards of people wanting to use their restrooms. Everyone had to buy something, pay and get a token, and use the token to get into the restroom.
We came back out and followed the crowd to 49th where they were letting people in the barricaded areas. Ah so that’s what’s supposed to happen, we finally realized. We lined up on the side, pretty close to the entry, only to realize the crowd was anything but patient. The pushing and shoving is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced as a member of what I consider a civilized society! I had a tiny girl in front of me, right next to the railing, and there were more than a few times that I thought I would fall over with her and the railing! I didn’t think we would ever get in. I thought we would simply get pushed into the barricaded area. I had no control over my movement. I moved with the crowd. It got so bad that the girl in front of me and I had to synchronize a push back into the crowd to keep from falling over! To make matters worse, they were letting only one person in at time, after a full security check. At that rate, we would still be standing outside when the ball dropped – at least we’d get to see it though. Luckily, they began to hasten the entry and security process and after more relentless pushing and shoving (I was actually afraid the girl in front of me might end up suffering from internal organ damage or something poor thing!), we finally got in! Sandwiches and Gatorade in hand, bladders empty and feet screaming in pain, we walked into the barricaded area, elated at finally getting in, and began our wait. It was 5pm. Yup. Only 7 hours till the ball dropped.
Yes I did it! I watched the infamous ball drop at Times Square on New Years Eve! Ironically, I had complained about ‘counting my chickens before they hatch’ when my month long plan to be there was cancelled so, being able to go anyway makes that post another example of counting-chickens-before-they-hatch right? Like a weird recursion.
Anyway, long story short, I made it and there is so much to write about the whole experience that I’m going to break it down into parts. I want to share all the agonizing details with you guys and make detailed records of the experience in the process. This way I have something interesting to relive when I’m battling early onset Alzheimer’s.
Happy New Year everyone!!!
It’s a little early but Christmas is officially over right? I was planning on spending New Year’s eve in the Big Apple , maybe even attempt to see the ball drop, with close friends and the boyfriend. Instead, I will probably spending NYE with older Bengali people ( don’t get me wrong, they are very nice but I really wanted to be in New York), my friend is pissed because he hasn’t made any other plans and is now left high and dry and the boyfriend is going to get a cholecystectomy. All in all, I’ve learned not to count my chickens before they hatch so I’m making my resolutions early (5 days in advance to be exact) so I have enough time for my hypothetical eggs ( this totally does NOT remind me that I’m almost 32 with zero children….nope not at all *sigh*) to hatch before I can not only count my chickens but also adjust for congenital anomalies, genetic and metabolic disorders and such. I will have the exact number of healthy, normally functioning chickens dammit! Chickens that can give me more eggs and delicious chicken nuggets. So here we go :
1) Lose weight : This is a mandatory number 1 every year for everyone. Nuff said.
2) Be well on the way to becoming a doctor and/or researcher in this country, where 5 years of Med School and 2 years of work experience in a foreign country means squat. That’s right I have to start from the bottom again. Research is probably a better option anyway.
3) Get engaged at least. When I was a hot-blooded rebellious teenager being raised in third world conservative Asian country, I made up my mind NEVER to get married or have children. I think this was more because, to me, a married woman was portrayed as someone cooking and caring for family all day, expected to sacrifice her life and happiness for her husband and children. That didn’t sit well with me but the first time I was lucky enough to attend a childbirth (during my Gyn-Obs placement), I couldn’t take my eyes off the new born or get over the miracle I had just witnessed and something changed in me. I fought with what I can only describe as a genetic instinct to have and care for children, biological or otherwise. As I grew older and began to become more and more comfortable with myself as an individual, I began to realize these were things that I genuinely wanted not just because it was expected of me. Finding someone, who feels like the right guy at last, has only bolstered that need. I will stop now before this ends up being a 2000 word post, 1500 of which is about Gary.
4)Become a Zumba instructor. I’ve been wanting this for soooo long! This year it must happen!
5) Run a 5K and actually run the whole race this time!
……………………..and last but not least…………..
6) Be more selfish : I know this is strange because usually people resolve to be the opposite but it’s not a negative…at least not as it pertains to me. I have lead my life for too long listening to and paying heed to how it affects the people I care for aka my family. My whole choice of career was based on the fact that my dad felt he had no reason to live if his straight A first born didn’t become a doctor. Not a single word in the previous sentence was an exaggeration. Maybe it’s my upbringing or nature or a combination of both but I’ve always made major life decisions with heavy involvement and usually consent of the ‘elders’. All that did is put me in a place in life where I feel there is nothing I want or nothing in my life that is my own. But that has to change. Enough is enough. It might hurt people, lead to non-stop emotional blackmail (I have been told I need to seriously look into and agree to an arranged marriage because my father is getting old and this is just very mild emotional blackmail), a good amount of crying and maybe even death or suicide threats I dunno, but I am the only person who can make myself happy. And like every other normal inhabitant of the planet Earth, I want to be happy and not feel like such a f***ing doormat all the f***ing time!
It was fun venting but it was even more fun putting all this in writing. I hope everyone has a happy, fruitful and fun-filled 2015! Happy New Year all you lovely people! Let the egg-warming begin!