…….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.
There are two things I do when I’m stressed. The first is one I think a lot of people do – bite my nails, but it goes to a more severe and sometimes bloodier extent if I run out of nail and the stressor continues to exist. I remember I once had a patient ask me if I had a vitamin deficiency because of how frayed, bloody and tattered my nails and surrounding areas were.
The second is I eat. I eat until I can eat no more and then keep eating. I think this habit started early during exam time at school. The only acceptable circumstance for not being at the study table, according to my mother, was if I was eating, so I think it started as an early excuse to not study and gradually developed into a habit. As an adult, I don’t have my mother with her dangerously low whisper asking me why I’m not studying when I should (I wish I did though) but the eating habit remains. Today has been a particularly disastrous day so far. I’m trying to maintain acceptable fingertips, even letting my fingernails grow a little, so the brunt of my stress was placed on food consumption. Its 4pm and since morning I’ve already eaten food amounting to at least 4 full meals! It also appears I can get more done when I’m stressed.
So in conclusion, I can’t win! I can either be fat and successful or thin and a failure. I hate adulthood!
I’m just going to come out and say it – I am a Facebook addict. Like any addiction, the first step to getting over it is to admit it. I think, and I’m sure a lot of you will agree, Facebook addiction is a legit disorder in today’s world. I am trying to reduce my daily Facebook usage but will not quit cold turkey just yet because the stalker in me needs her fix every now and then.
What probably started off as just a simple means to stay connected and socialize has now become more of a platform to display a life that we not only wish we had, but also one we want others to think we have. It’s almost like one of those games where you have to build cities from the ground up only in this case, you’re building your virtual Facebook life. Let me give you an example. A close family member got married about 4 years ago and I had lived with them for a while. Unfortunately theirs was not a match made in heaven and the fighting began very soon after marriage. The fights continued to escalate until it came to a point where they both accepted that this is what the rest of their lives is going to be like. It’s sad and unacceptable in this day and age but to some people, the external appearance of perfection is more important than inner peace. Add to that the constant passive emotional blackmail by family members about how a breakup would affect their hard earned social status and you not only have a couple that has continuous altercations but a deep set resentment for each other. They even fought during their anniversaries, birthdays and have played a big part in my aversion to the M-word. But it’s a whole different story on Facebook. There are pictures of trips, new houses, new cars, smiling friends, special dinners etc. , people commenting on how good they look together and how happy they must be. I was quite surprised when after a particularly bad fight, they went to a dinner party and later posted happy smiling pics of the party the day after. Either there was some really good makeup sex or I’m missing something.
I don’t mean to judge anyone. It would be wrong for me to assume that just because they have shouting matches over where to put the TV, resulting in one of them walking out (literally…but she later came back), that they can’t have a great relationship. Every relationship is different and maybe they like theirs so tumultuous. But I’ve noticed other people Facebook their feelings away following situations they wish were not real. Even a few days back, a close friend called me frantic and crying. She had been having some marital issues for a while but hadn’t mentioned anything in a while so I assumed things were better but I was wrong. She had finally decided to leave him. She was a mess and it took me more than an hour to calm her down but she maintained that she was close to leaving the marriage. A few hours later, she started sharing old pictures of her and her husband (we’re all friends from school) with captions like ‘good times’ and ‘<3’ etc. I don’t know if it helped her feel better or change her perspective but everyone who saw the posts were ranting over how they were the perfect best-friends-to-soul-mates couple. She responded positively to the comments.
These and other similar examples have lead me to believe that the influx of copious amounts of happy posts and pictures on Facebook is inversely proportional to actual happiness. This is just my observation as a long term Facebook user (and stalker of course!). It’s almost like the happy contents posted on the page, the likes and positive comments, are a way to escape reality temporarily, a transient high that allows a temporary escape from the harsh reality, much like a narcotic. This feel good drug is legal, cheap, easily accessible and apparently harmless. I say ‘apparently’ because one can escape reality for so long.
Warning : This is a sappy, sickly sweet, romantic post ❤
………. he drove 4 hours after a 9 hour work day, just to spend a couple of hours talking after a fight (which was, and I admit, mostly my doing) and had only 3 hours of sleep before heading back to work again but did not complain about it….yet 😛 Hopefully this isn’t a one time thing.
Today I went on my first real American Thanksgiving meal. My neighbor and very close friend invited me to her house for Thanksgiving lunch. They also had some friends from out of state who were really great company. Their out-of-state friend decided that because this was my first official Thanksgiving meal, he was going to explain the basics to me such as : you may be tempted to pile your plate up with huge portions of everything – don’t! Even if you take small servings of everything, it will still be too much. Expect to need a nap right after, or in some cases during, the meal, and other such important tidbits about Thanksgiving meals. He was right on all counts. My friend had made an amazing stuffing and as soon as I sat down with a second serving of only stuffing, I realized I was already full. And there was still the delicious desserts – pecan pie and pumpkin cake…mmmmmm. The food was great, the conversation pleasant and flowing, and there were these really great honey-mustard-onion flavored pretzel pieces that I couldn’t stop eating! I also discovered my preference in wine – really sweet wine.
On the other hand, the man who has been a constant source of strength and support to me for the last 6 months, spent Thanksgiving alone. He had no family to go to and no special Thanksgiving meal. What makes me sad about this is not only that I couldn’t spend Thanksgiving with him, but also the fact that he was raised here and therefore having a proper Thanksgiving means so much more to him than it does to me. He has been understandably sad and gloomy over this Holiday season because he is spending it alone. I told him I owe him a turkey dinner. I told him we will celebrate all the occasions we miss on our own days at our own convenience. I have a lot to be thankful for and just because we couldn’t celebrate it together on the date most celebrate it on, doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate it on another date and time. I am thankful everyday for the things I have in life. That means everyday should be Thanksgiving for me – minus the food of course. I don’t want to die of overeating *groan*
So I have mixed feelings about Thanksgiving this year. While I enjoyed good food and company, someone very dear to me spent it alone and sad. All we can do really is to try and make the best of things and keep moving forward in hopes of a better and more perfect tomorrow. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!
So the boyfriend just sent these. He’s on his way home from work. It’s about a half an hour drive. My initial reaction was : what the *bleep* are you doing taking pics while driving in this horrid weather?!! He assured me he took the pics in the car park before starting off. He also informed me he had to switch to all wheel drive (an example of my ignorance about all things car related – I didn’t know you could switch between 2 wheel and 4 wheel drive. I always assumed a car had either or permanently. Yes you can laugh. I am new to the country…and cars apparently). Anyway this picture is an inspiration. It inspires me to continue my mission of convincing the boyfriend to move. This post is part of that campaign.
From a very young age I knew I was bad with technology in general. Computers, smart phones and all those other gadgets kids nowadays are crazy about. So I knew very early on I was not what you would call tech savvy. I had no problem admitting and labeling myself as such. Unfortunately,in this context, I began to refer to myself as ‘technically retarded’.
I don’t remember how long I had been using that term to describe myself – definitely before moving to the US, but I do remember quizzical looks from people every time I told them I was ‘technically retarded’. No one really corrected me until I started dating Gary and he couldn’t contain his laughter when he heard it. It turns out he had heard me use it before and assumed it was a slip of tongue until he realized I was repeating it, unaware that I was actually saying it wrong all these years! When he pointed it out, I was horrified! The correct term is ‘technologically retarded’. All these years I had basically been telling people that I had an IQ below 70 (technically retarded).
I grew up in a country with no snow and in the US, last year was the first time I experienced actual snowfall. This year would be my second year in a state with proper snowfall. Last week I experienced my first drive through falling snow at what appeared to be warp speed! Seriously!
Gary picked me up after work and we were on our way to his place when the snowfall started. We were on the highway. I’m no Trekkie but I’m familiar with the basics, warp speed being one of them and that is exactly what it looked like! I had heard of the phenomenon before but this was my first time actually seeing it. But my excitement soon turned to fear when the snowfall suddenly increased to the point that the road became almost invisible. I froze with fear on my seat as I realized he was driving with almost zero visibility (also stopped taking pictures at the time). Luckily, it was a short burst and things cleared up within a minute or two. Gary smiled at my reaction and told me this was nothing, expect it to get worse as winter progressed. All that did was confirm what I had already theorized in my head – I want to live in a snow-less state!
Sure it’s pretty when you’re in your warm, cozy living room, cuddled up with a cup of hot tea – not so much when you have to spend 10 minutes putting on layers of clothing that make you look 5 sizes too big, only to step out and realize you’re still freezing. And the warp speed incident is the nail on the coffin. So now begins my journey of slowly and painlessly convincing Gary that we will eventually have to move.
On a side note, I looked on the interweb and found that my fellow nerds have already made the correlation between snowfall and warp speed.
Yup! We are sooo moving!
I have never been married or have children. I have always intended to do it the traditional way – get married first and then have children. I didn’t expect to meet and fall in love with someone who already had children – and three boys at that!
I grew up as the eldest of three sisters so while I had some experience dealing with girls (my sisters are 6 and 15 years younger than me), I have very little experience dealing with little boys. Also they were being raised in a society completely different from where my sisters and I were raised. To give you an example, we were told strictly that dating was bad bad bad, no exceptions. You are expected to marry a suitable guy, that your parents ‘help’ you pick, when you are of age. Not that that kept us from dating – we just had to be discrete. In the meantime, my neighbor’s daughter,Amelia, is almost 13 and her mom was telling us how she was beginning to be interested in boys. My sister in law was present during the conversation and her eyes almost popped out of her head as she asked, “And you will let her ?!” “Let her what?” my neighbor asked, clearly perplexed. “Let her date?!” “Erm…yes eventually.” She probably thought my sis-in-law was questioning the girl’s young age but only I knew the true cause of her shock.
I know quite a bit about American culture – I’ve lived here long enough! There are things I like and things I don’t like. But knowing and living it are different. Although I live thousands of miles away from home, I am close to my family and have family around me so most of the time, even though I am in the US, I live a very Bengali lifestyle. This made me fearful of how the boys would interpret my interaction with them. I am perfectly comfortable and happy with Gary, never felt the need to be anything but myself (and the differences often make the relationship more interesting ). I knew he has kids and I was perfectly comfortable with that too…until I had to meet them.
I like kids but I’m not the girl who looks inside strollers at the park and gushes over the cuteness of random babies. And while I had seen pictures of and heard them talk to their dad over the phone, I had no idea what Gary’s kids were actually like. He assured me they were good kids and I would get along with them just fine, but don’t all parents think their kids are the best?
Gary and the boys came to pick me up on the weekend we were going to spend together. I exchanged pleasantries with the boys in the car but my anxiety and dwindling self confidence kept me from saying anything else. This changed when we went to to get their school supplies. I was walking a little behind and the eldest (11 then but 12 now) lagged behind to talk to me. I realized my anxiety and discomfort was so obvious that this little boy was doing what he could to make me comfortable. I have never been more surprised by a child trying to act so adult like. Don’t get me wrong, we talked mostly about Pokemon, but the idea that he was trying to make me feel more comfortable and a part of their little group, was very adult like. The younger two took the cue from their brother and joined in. Soon I had three little boys around me fighting to talk about their favorite Pokemon. After we got home and had dinner, I realized they were constantly around me, talking and asking questions. It didn’t take me long to realize they really were just kids, and not the scary great-unknown that I was afraid of. But there was something else. I was feeling overwhelmed. They all wanted to talk , they all wanted to interact and I couldn’t be alone even for a moment – and there were 3 of them! I was trying to keep up with them all but it was too much for me at the time. I began to feel crowded and flustered. The good news here is that their father has a good hold over the boys. He is strict so they do exactly what he asks of them, like leaving me alone for a little bit. But he is also loving. At the beginning of the weekend I felt like he was being a bit too harsh (and a bit of a bully) with them but by the end of the weekend, I realized if it wasn’t for his strict parenting, it would’ve been a nightmare handling three intelligent young boys full of energy! Also, I saw how they all piled up on their dad for hugs and kisses (pictured above) and I knew that no matter how harsh their dad seemed, they still knew he loved them and they loved him.
The next morning, I made breakfast for them. ‘Thank you’ s and complements were in abundance. The eldest proclaimed that since I was dating his dad, he would show me some features around the house that I might be unaware of. All in all, I felt accepted and felt very much that I could make this is a permanent part of my life. But I realize this was just a weekend. To be a full time parent to a 12,9 and 8 year old will take a whole lot of learning and patience on my part. The thought scares me sometimes but the fact that Gary seems to have a good grasp of this parenting thing, even on his own, definitely helps a lot.
I want to go into this with a positive mindset. When I was in my mid-twenties, I wanted to have a big family with 6 children. That number went down to 2 when I turned 30 (my age limit for biological children is 35). Now at 31, there seems to be a chance for me to have 3 ready-made kids and maybe one more. 4 out of 6 is not bad, it’s not bad at all! 🙂