The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Dear Diary
You are such a treasure box to me. I read through the stuff in you almost once a week and look at the rewards I reap.
When J dropped me yesterday, I simply said "I know" and gave him a sweet smile and today he took me to the mall and got me the cutest pair of Jimmy Choos. I am looking at them now, maybe I should wrangle a nice little dress to go with it as well.
I saw the bus driver kiss the R from the cafeteria behind the gym.R should have been in class but guess she bunked it somehow. I would not have been there if not for the sounds.Boy! It was disgusting to look at. Although I waited for sometime before I let them know I was there. And I smiled that sweet smile. Now they know I KNOW!!
I saw my mom take some pills a few days back. If indeed she is trying to get pregnant with my stepfathers baby she shouldn't be taking those right! I went through her stuff and put the pill box on the drawer. She walked in on me and I smiled at her as well. Lets now see how I don't go on the Eurotrip everyone else is going.
Stepdad was watching some stuff on his laptop he shouldn't have been watching at ALL. Gross alert!! But now he knows I know..I haven't decided what I want yet out of that information but its good to have security! See I was paying attention to the class as well as the stuff that K was writing her about her brother. That is something I can use as well.
I can not wait for the stuff people do! Information is such power..I love it..I love you and I love me! Maybe I should give myself a cool name. How is this?
Yours...The girl who knew too much! XOXO

#23

Pull a black hair out and you lose that follicle, but pull a grey one out and you get 3 hairs in its place!

Reconnecting

There is a private message on my Facebook page. I am curious as to who is sending me a message at this time of the night. It is her. She is not on my friends list, but managed to find me through mutual friends. My profile picture is my high school yearbook picture. That is when I felt at the highest.
I messaged immediately. She was the love of my life. We had four intense years together and after high school it became clear that we were meant for different purposes. I had grand schemes of opening my own business, she wanted a family, a house and a dog. Dead weight.
She wants to know if we can meet for breakfast. She will be passing through the town, our town, now my town. I say yes. She was a stunner back then. I had no way of verifying since her profile picture was some shot of a mountain and sun. I can't sleep. It has been two decades. Does this mean something?
In the morning, I get up and quickly wear my blue jeans and grey t-shirt. The t-shirt is one of many with Captain America's shield on it. I comb whatever is left of my hair and holler to my mom through the door on the way out.
There is a shiny Tesla parked near old trucks. I pull up my bicycle next to it. I walk in and  run out of breath. I see her brunette hair shining in the bleak morning light. I go behind her and say hi. She turns and I run out of breath again. She is still a stunner. She smiles but there is something in her eyes. I think, disappointment maybe. I sit down.
She asks me what I do. What happened to my plans? I still have grand schemes. I just like planning and dreaming better than actual implementation. She is married, no kids. A high paying salary. We hit a lot of awkward pauses. A lot. How are my parents, she asks. I live with my parents still, I say. Awkward pause. I scratch my belly absentmindedly. How long is she staying? She had originally planned on staying the day, but now she is just passing through. We sigh and look out of the diner. My mind is full of memories, the love, the intensity, the cooling. I'm kind of sure she is looking at me but is really seeing me as that teenager. That is when I felt the best.
She hasn't touched her breakfast, but asks for a refill of her mug. I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I look at myself in the mirror and see myself- balding, paunchy, ageing. I was best when I was a teenager.
I come back, the Tesla is gone. The steam in her coffee mug is still rising.

Anonymity

Anonymous, January 15, 2010
I would never ever step out in such a bizarre outfit. Why is she called a fashion blogger again?
Anonymous, March 21, 2011
What? Is this for real? We are supposed to believe you baked this with 3 children running about the house and one on the way? Y'all she is definitely lying.
Anonymous, June 24, 2014
Yikes. Go back into the house. That is no part of your body you should be showing the public! Disgusting, where do you learn your culture and traditions from? That is such a jelly belly and what ugly scars. Dont even think of coming out in that outfit for running, who wants to see all that shaking.
Anonymous, December 17, 2013
That is some disgusting painting. YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO TALENT. Stop burning our eyeballs with those eyesores.
Anonymous, July 15, 2012
This is voice cloud not noise-cloud. You should not sing if you do not know how to sing. All orrible singing, off-key and tonedeaf. If you audition for American Idol, it will be nice to see the judges reaction to your horrible singing!!
Anonymous, September, 2010
This is such a shame. Dressing up a baby boy as a girl with wings and stuff, that boy is going to be messed up. This is why perversion is on the rise, because we encourage it to be.
Anonymous....
..............

That one!

We all have that one girl in our life who apparently seems to have it all.
The girl is super fun, smart and sassy.  She can do things with ease. New things she does easily and old things, she is an expert. She has no qualms about speaking her mind and people adore her for it. She is just as quick to apologize if she is wrong and people quickly forgive her. She is always full of positive things to say about you and even the negative ones seem constructive!
She can sing ,she can dance, she can play the piano and she can play the banjo. And she can make you dance and have fun. She is open minded about a lot of things and very traditional in a few. She knows the world affairs, she even knows who's the President of Fiji and can name all the moons of Saturn.
She is funny but her sarcasm is sharp. She is fit and she can run a marathon. She does Yoga everyday and watches Project Runway. She is good at math and can calculate discounts in a flash. She can bake, cook and barbecue without breaking a sweat.
We all have that one girl in our life who apparently seems to have it all. I hate this girl. I should hate this girl, but I love her, she is my best friend.

Broad strokes

I look around my kitchen. It looks clean. Everything has been put away after lunch, washed and dried. The leftovers packed away in boxes for tonight's dinner.The house is empty save for the sound of the grandfather clock. There is a gentle breeze that stirs the blinds and light plays hide and seek. I fall into the haze of the afternoon magic.
Not wanting to fall asleep, I walk out of the house into the backyard into the outhouse. That room has been locked for many years. As a newly wed bride, I stocked up on the usual supplies hoping to unleash my inner Saraswathi- paints, dyes, colors, brushes, canvases, oils. I became the Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva instead, of my own little world. My family grew, thrived and went away leaving me alone.
I tentatively step into the room. Dust has not gathered because I would periodically come in and clean everything up. I find the easel and the colors. My hand affectionately brushes the palette. My life has been a myriad of colors, from the warmest blue to the brightest yellow to joyous green and mournful black.
I hesitate before choosing my color. Red. Vibrant red. Life goes on. I start with small strokes, with an unsure hand. Then my instinct takes over. Broad strokes, broader strokes. Life goes on. The white vanishes from the canvas and is a mosaic of reds. I see myself in the red and the woman in the red is dancing. Life goes on.

What am I?

I have no opinions. Let me change that, I have no strong opinions.
I see the lady next to me talking passionately about nuclear disarmament and she goes on to expound at length what each country's stance is and what it should be. She seems to have a strong opinion.Me, I don't care. As long as they do not drop a bomb where I live I am fine. So what am I?
There is the lesbian and a fiercely conservative and orthodox man engaged in an argument about marriage, procreation and sin. The lady passionately explains how she is also human and is it not God's ultimate lesson that everyone be treated just the same. Me, I believe in equal love. But I do know the religious misgivings people have about homosexuality so I understand why their belief is bigger . I know God created us equal but he also gave us our uniqueness,so what am I?
There was a feminist that I met in the tube the other day. She spoke about gender equality and how we are equal to them. I wholeheartedly agreed. Yet, my 6-inch heels were killing me and I caught a man's eye and made him guilty enough with my winces and grimaces to give his seat up for me. I manipulated that man by pretending to be the weaker sex. So what am I?
I shed my opinions like a dog sheds hair. Here today, gone tomorrow. I have no fierce beliefs, no strong opinions. I am just as likely to side with an opponent in an argument if they have a stronger point of view. I shift loyalties and have no strong opinions. I only have three strong opinions that I will not change no matter what. I will hold my breath and close my eyes if anyone says something otherwise. There is no sense in killing. There is no truth in deception. The Mummy is an awesome movie. So what am I?

Sanity

I sit  on my usual bench, talking to my colleague next to me. He brings up an excellent point abut existential crises being a way to weed out the strong. It all goes back to Darwin's theory of fittest, he says. I disagree. Everyone goes through the crisis as a part of their life as a philosophical aspect, I think. Another colleague chimes in and says that the whole point of life is to think about the crisis and find out an answer. I ask him, "What answer? There is no question. We simply live and simply die."
The conversation heats up. A couple of passing gentlemen pause near my bench. They smile at me while making no move to participate in the conversation. I also see a couple of doctors from the institution walking down the pathway. I invite them to join our discussion, they politely disagree and walk away. I turn back to my colleagues. They have started using words that no lady should hear, which is good, as no lady is near. I join the fun, adding in a few choice and ripe words. Now the two gentlemen are animated as well. This has become a contest to see who can swear the most. All of us are going at it with gusto. I could always persuade a crowd. And I scream the words now to attract more attention.
The doctors come back. They hold me down and sedate me. I tell them to be careful with my colleagues and the other two gentlemen. They look at me and ask, "Who?".

Life and Death

Life and Death stood side by side.
The room was crowded. All of them were excited about the impending arrival. There was a constant buzz among the nurses. There was chatter and noise. Constant conversations about the arrival, name, gender and how that would change the parents life. There was anxiety and doubts but most of all of joy and forty weeks of waiting. A gift worth the wait. The baby came amidst loud cries and whoops of joy from the father and then silent tears from the mother. Life turned to Death, "What is more precious than the arrival of a new life?"
The room was crowded. All those in room were silent. The air was heavy. People were holding each other for support. He had battled the disease for a long time. He was a survivor. The battle had gone on long enough. The disease had won some, the man had won loads. He was tired and it was time to let go. He smiled at his wife, his children and kissed his newborn grandchild. He had lived a full life and paid his dues. He was ready to go and thus he breathed his last. Death turned to Life, "What is more precious than the departure of a man who has lived, fought and deserves to rest easy afterwards?"

Today is not Valentines Day

Today is not Valentines Day. It is just another day. I am dropping you off at work and then leaving to mine. You are on a call with a client. The voice carries over to my side. You look at me and wrinkle your nose.
Today is not Valentines Day. I struggle to remember if I ever felt like my heart was going to burst with ache for you. I don't ever remember having butterflies when I was with you. My ears have never buzzed when you were around.
Today is not Valentines Day. I will never have the first kiss again. Furtive glances to my phone to check for messages from you, never happened. My heart will not pound anticipating our meeting.
Today is not Valentines Day. I do not need to wait to hold your fingers at the end of the day. I do not need to worry that you will not kiss me if I have onions in my sandwich. I do not worry that I wear my shorts to drop and pick you up from formal parties.
Today is not Valentines Day. I do not worry that I fart, I don't care if I have a particularly spicy meal and I am in the bathroom for a long time.
Today is not Valentines Day, I will drop you in the morning and pick you up in the evening. I like the routine and  I don't have to anticipate any surprises in our relationship.
Today is not Valentines Day. I know who you are, you know who I am. I speak the truth, you speak the truth. I love you. You love me.

Win me an Oscar

You are a sucky person.
There, I said it. With the vocabulary of a teen, I said it. You are truly a sucky person.  You are late to the sets, you give excuses about the time. You keep us all waiting for hours together for you to put up an appearance on readings. You drink and party and are hungover on set. You delay make up while you snort in your trailer. Make up a is a nightmare with those teeth and sallow skin that you have developed as a result of those binges. You put on airs and talk down to everyone on the set. You don't take kindly to someone else taking the spotlight off of you. You want to be waited hand and foot. I remember the time when you had to have Deep Dish Pizza in the middle of the night, when all we wanted was to finish the shot and go home and sleep. We did not start shooting until we woke up a famous chef, listened to his curses, owed him a thousand favors for that one frigging pizza. When it came, you smelled it, said it smelled cheesy and threw it into garbage. You are sucky.
Yet you transform. When you get into the shot, the individual that was a collective pain in our asses ceases to exist. You are what the story says you are. You disappear beneath the sometimes subtle sometime flashy character. If we were to do retakes that was probably because your co-stars weren't expecting that greatness from a sucky individual. You are simply a delight with your improvisations and timing your dialogues.I begin to recollect why we buzzed around you and signed you.
This story is going to make those Academy members cry. Win me an Oscar,you sucky person