Fork In The Road

There's a fork in the road, and I feel inept. Which route should I take? Neither one seems easy. Neither one is clearly defined. There's smoke, and debris, and the signs are confusing. I have travelled so many roads, and yet I have never felt so inexperienced, so at a loss. I'm tempted to toss a coin, and let luck decide. And yet deep down I know which path I really want to take. And which one I should.

It's a fork in the road - this battle between what is sensible and safe, and what is emotional and unknown.

There's a fork in the road, and I have never changed my mind so many times. Never before have I weighed the pros and cons, and deliberated over the signs and possibilities of what might be... of what could be... of what probably WILL be...

There's a fork in the road, and no real need for a quick decision. But the urgency is bubbling within me... slowly simmering to a boiling point. The need to react is overpowering. But I'm not quite ready to choose.

Under his spell...

Anyone who knows me, or has read even ONE of my blog entries knows that I'm a little... strange. So my next confession will hopefully not surprise anyone too much (I hope).

It's no secret that I am at that age when dating, or the idea of dating, or the view that I should be dating (or in some schools of thought, married and with child) is supposed to be at the forefront of everyone's minds. I know it sounds like an exaggeration when I say 'everyone', but when people you met five minutes back begin tsking at my singular status (can I say that?), it seems like the universe and all divinity, and sceptics of the above are very intent on finding me a man even if I will not do it myself - especially since I am not doing it myself. I'm no longer affronted at how everyone and his (or her) mother's nose is in my dating business. REALLY. Well, on most days anyway.

So for those on the prowl on my behalf, I guess there is something you really need to know. And no, it's not that I'm secretly a nun, or into women - that I know of... What I'm about to reveal is a trait I find absolutely necessary in a man. So much so that even if the most gorgeous Adonis with the brains of Einstein and the wit of Russell Peters and the wealth of Bill Gates were to be a contender as my better half (hey while I'm dreaming might as well aim high), and yet NOT possess this particular trait, it would be a deal breaker. And I am very serious about this. Seriously serious.

Look, I'm no paragon of anything really. But I love the written word (in English - my linguistic skills are minimal), and a man who respects it is a real turn on. I can just see the confusion in your face (quit scrunching up your forehead, you'll wrinkle easier). Let me expound: Good grammar makes me go weak at the knees. Impeccable spelling will bring out the stars in my eyes. I know, I know, there isn't a type of therapy that has been invented yet that would work on me. But this is the honest truth. My man has to be able to spell, and construct good sentences.

Phew. There! I got it out!

In this world of highly abbreviated, speedy text messaging and instant messaging and all the ways in which we try to save precious time, I appreciate the special few who take the time to spell words whole and write sentences fully. To me, this trend of abbreviating everything is sacrilege.

So, please... if you're on the manhunt for me, get me someone who can spell - and I might just be putty in his arms!

Magic

Lightning lit the plain like paparazzi eager for a glimpse of the latest hot starlet. The view was breathtaking, beautiful, a centrefold for nature magazines. Soon after thunder rumbled throatily of promises - of rain, of romance, of mystery, of small somethings blossoming here and there. The stars were in attendance, twinkling charmingly; glinting with harmless mischief. The scene was drenched in magic and possibility.

A child woman perched herself on the jagged rocks overlooking the plain. Her raised arms, bathed in moonlight, spoke to the skies. They spoke of hope and love, and desires she dared not utter aloud. They told tales of yearnings and secrets. Her fingers stretched out to the stars - strong and assured that dreams do come true. Tonight anything seemed possible.

The embers from her little fire glowed like a frozen tequila sunrise. They scoffed cynically at her belief... But they agreed silently to let her have tonight.

Take A Good Look At Me Now

Take a good look at me now. I come to you tonight stripped of any inhibition and any pretense. I am the best version of myself, and all of me - within, and without - is here for YOUR perusal. I see the possibility of greatness between you and me, and I don't want to begin anything with muddy waters. Let's begin with you, and just you; and me - JUST me. No games, no lies, no bullshit.

I'm here baby, not for any guarantees. I know there are none. I come here not to hold you to any obligation - that's not what I want at all. I'm no baby, baby. I outgrew my naivete a long time ago. I'm no damsel in distress searching for a white knight... I am capable of executing my own rescues, thank you very much. Know this. Honour this. I come simply to explore the mystery that's brewing. And I know it's there. I don't know where it will lead. Neither do you.

Take a good look at me now, baby. This is all of me on display for all of you. It's an exclusive exhibition, so enjoy the honour. No strings my dear, you don't have to like what you see. Neither do I.

Steel

I looked in the mirror this morning, and glimpsed something there that is new. Beneath the obvious facade, there have been changes. Remarkable ones. If I did not have the familiar mask that is my face, I would not be able to recognise myself. Where there was once a skeleton of bone, there is now steel. The strength from within shimmers through. There's an extra sparkle in my eyes, an extra glow on my cheeks. My gait is no longer hesitant but firm, and sure.

The days when I felt helpless and lonely are not that long ago. But the me that was, has been dropped as quickly as last season's favourite fad. I know what I can take now, and I fear nothing. I know what I can handle, and I will not balk. I know what I can survive, and I know I will do it with grace. I know who I can rely on - I look at her every morning in the mirror.

I am woman, hear me roar.
You give me shit, I use it as manure.

On Edge

Tonight I'm a drone of dichotomies. Exhilarated and anxious. Hopeful and despondent. Needing oxygen, but unable to breathe. There's a feeling of being so small, so inconsequential, and of knowing something big is about to come. Something great. Something important. And there is so much fear because I may never be the same again.

Every song sung so far, has been sung for me. Every chord of music, is a plucking of my heartstrings. I am every cliche brought to life, and every metaphor simplified. I am panic and adrenaline and desire and yearning. I am my own hero, and yet all I can do is send out SOS signals. I'm the silver screen brought to life, and reality made into a movie. I am confused and clear, and exploding with so much feeling. My lungs are full - there is no room for another breath.

Breathe little one... Breathe!

I feel the best of myself merging with the worst of myself. I feel complete, and yet lacking in so many ways. I have lost my breath, my confidence, maybe even what little sanity I possess. I must remember to breathe!

I'm on the edge. Blue skies above beckon; the ground far below teems with jagged rocks. The terrain is stark and stunning. Birds chirp and predators prowl, and here I am teetering at the very edge. Breathe! I do not know yet where the next moment is going to take me. Will I fall, or will I fly? Knowing means going to the edge.

I'm here... at the edge. And I just can't breathe! The moment has arrived, and I need, I must, I will fly.

Fall Apart

Fall apart baby. Let it out. I'll be here with a glass of water and a big hug. I'm here to listen or sit with you in silence while you figure it out. I'll hold that box of tissues to mop up that mess your face has become. I'll love you no matter how snotty you get, and even if your nose becomes red and bulbous like Rudolph's.

Fall apart baby. I'm not here to judge. We'll make it better somehow, or we'll just wait it out until the feelings fade. I'm here for the long haul, and I'm here in your corner. I may not have the right words, or the wisdom to solve what needs to be solved, but I'm here with you. For you.

Fall apart baby. Fall with me.

Twenty Seven

I look in the mirror and I don't see a grown up. I look within, and I don't feel adult. It's scary. Don't get me wrong... the physical signs of my age are all too evident, but deep inside I feel lacking, and as uncertain and as wise (or unwise, as the case may be) as I was a decade ago.

Somewhere along this road I have become accustomed to being a mouse, to not having to put myself on the line. I've been lucky in the chances life has handed to me, and things have fallen into place of their own volition up to now. But there's a slow burn that's starting up - a desire to BE more... to TAKE more... but even stronger is a fear of failing that stops me from even trying.

I'm twenty seven, and I feel fourteen. Maybe it's because I still don't have my wisdom teeth?

I can't call myself a woman. I don't feel confident enough. I'm still a girl. Still. A. Girl. But methinks it's time to GROW UP.

Boost

Every once in a while I get a little stuck; a little complacent... and thankfully, when those moments arrive, the powers that be send me little angels that give me a swift kick in the arse to get things going again.

A year ago, a friend gave me one such friendly kick. She encouraged - no, INSISTED - that I start this blog as a 'gift' to her. It was more a gift to me.

So I want to say thanks, Pancham, for pushing me to follow a dream in a practical way (for now). A year has passed, and while I haven't written as much as I should have, I have written more in the last year than I had in the ten before, and I owe it all to you. Thanks for the initial push, and then bearing with the temperamental tantrums and indignant opinions of someone not quite talented enough to actually afford them.

I owe you, and I thank you.

Now Doesn't Last Forever

I write this in memory of Sang Lee who passed on earlier this month. I had the privilege and joy of reading his blog, and he truly made a mark on me. I read the quote I used below when he commented on a blog he followed called Restaurant Girl. The post in question was http://www.restaurantgal.com/2009/12/stark-reality-in-daylight/. I am sad that he died, but thankful his words, at least, will stay on forever.

'Fuck it. Not to the situation, or what you have to do, but how it affects you. It’s just now. And now doesn’t last forever.' Sang Lee

She fastened the seat belt and huddled under the blanket, leaning her head against the fuselage of the plane. She usually loved plane journeys. She would always be teetering on the edge of her seat watching the people board and put away their things as she made up stories about where they were headed and why. She'd be drumming her feet as the plane taxied, anticipation building as the plane took off. And if there was a cute guy next to her, she'd be plotting a way to start conversation, and planning the timing of the ice-breaker according to the length of the journey.

But not on this night. Not on this journey.

Tonight felt like the culmination of a thousand bad decisions and paths wrongly taken. She felt old and weary and lifeless. All her dreams felt so far out of reach; so improbable. She could see nothing to look forward to, nothing in her life worth retaining, or making better. All that she could see ahead were a multitude of dead ends, and it seemed as though every step she made forward led to umpteen obstacles that hurled her farther back than where she had started from. Life had become a thousand shades of grey - it seemed the only colour around.

When the stewardess came by and told her to put up the window blind, she looked out of the window. She was instantly struck by the splendour of the rain and its effects on the runway and the airport field. The tarmac was a glossy gown of charcoal black at this time of the night. The lights - orange, red, white - glittered prettily, and bled into the coat of rain on the ground. Each colour seemed more vibrant - like it had been given a wash and was hung out to dry. She felt some of the grey of her own mood lift, and her mind went back to another night; another journey - another bleak moment when she had felt like giving up. The earnest words of a dear friend floated in her memory, 'Fuck it. Not to the situation, or what you have to do, but how it affects you. It’s just now. And now doesn’t last forever.'

As the plane left the ground and soared towards a melting sky, the fog in her mind began to clear, and she slowly began to look for possibilities. It WAS just now... and now doesn't last forever...