Going on a Roman Holiday

Now that Audrey Hepburn is in my head (thanks, GAP) and I need a vacation so badly, I think of my favorite movie, "Roman Holiday."

I remember watching this movie in high school and falling in love with everything about it. My favorite part is where she runs away and lolls about Rome by herself, indulging her own whims, getting her hair cut (a true makeover story!), eating ice cream on the Spanish Steps and finding freedom in a few moments.

That's me. Always looking for my own quiet time. I love to explore cities and new places by myself. I have no qualms about doing that.

My father loved this movie too. He fell in love with this movie back in India. He liked the romantic idea of walking around Italy with a pretty girl. His favorite was the scene at la Bocca de la Verita where Gregory Peck pretends to lose his hand to the Mouth of Truth and tricks the Princess.

My husband is a "Roman Holiday" fan, though I don't think he has a particular scene or moment he loves more than another.

We went to Italy for our first anniversary - just 3 days in Rome, 2 days in Venice and 1 day in Florence. I think Rome is a lot like Mumbai. Upon entry, you wonder where you are and want to leave. The people, the pollution, the chaos. Then, within a few days, you're so in love with it and don't want to leave. What were we thinking with just 3 days in Rome!

When we we came home, we rented this movie. It was exciting to pick out all the spots we had seen. It became a travelogue for us.

In Rome, we had to go see the Bocca de la Verita and actually rushed to the church right before closing. We practically tripped over marble ruins trying to get there. We made it just in time and took our pictures. Of course, they had a shop within the church where I bought my father a small souvenir replica of it. (He was thrilled with it!)

I had also insisted we go to the Piazza D'Espagne to see the steps. This is romantic on the literary level for me because Keats and Elizabeth Barrett Browning had lived there; there's now a museum dedicated to the artists. I was so excited.

Lo and behold! The Steps!

There were about 1000 other tourists taking pictures, students hanging around and Italians on cell phones all over. There were Punjabi men who set up shop to sell t-shirts and souvenirs at the base. How was I supposed to sit and eat gelato with my Gregory Peck? I was so upset and just wanted to leave.

I actually fell in love with Piazza Navona. Loved the cafes, the gypsy singers, and the artists. We actually bought some artwork from a street artist on our last night there. It was about 10pm and we only had $20 (USD) bills. Every bank was closed and we couldn't find an ATM. The artist said he'd accept the American cash without converting it. We found some Americans who exchanged it with us. We finalized on the artwork and were so excited with our purchase. Unfortunately we lost the artwork when we moved to our house. All we have left is the story.

"Roman Holiday" was on TV a few months ago and I had to stop flipping. My daughter was with me and kinda bored with a black and white movie. Then I said, "See that girl? She's a princess." And immediately, she snapped to attention. She watched a few minutes, but I know one day when she's older, this movie will let her dream.

I think this movie turns us all into runaway princesses, charming Gregory Pecks and Romans.

Non Fashion Statement

I'm not a fashionista. Never been mistaken for one, never posed as one. For me, dressing well is concerted effort. When I grew up, I had my sister say, "You're wearing that?". Now, as an adult, my husband will look at me and say, "You're wearing that?". I don't intuitively know what's going to look good off the hanger.

At work, I go for the classics - black pants, button down shirts, sweater sets (not "matchy-matchy" though). On weekends, it's jeans, t-shirts, kurta tops or some kind of different shirt. I get compliments from people for being 'put together' and I embrace those compliments because I have to think about clothes. When it comes to accessories, I rock! I love earrings, necklaces, bracelets. I buy off-the-rack jewelry and then deconstruct it by taking off extra baubles. Then, it becomes more me.

Anyway, I try to find things that suit myself and my personality, rather than trends.

So, last night I caught the new GAP ad with Audrey Hepburn dancing. Wow, what an awesome ad! Really well-edited, music is fantastic and it's flawless. How else can you get Audrey Hepburn to advertise for you. So the news is skinny pants are back.

Why, oh why? I ask.

Over the last 10 years, we've been brainwashed and instructed to stay away from tapered legs and go for the boot-cut, wide legs. This creates a more balanced silhouette, per our friend Stacy and Clint (TLC's What Not to Wear). We look longer and not like a lollipop on a stick.

Oprah's magazine this month has some new skinny-pant looks, so even they are trying to sell this concept to American women. They're showing styles suitable for non-Audrey Hepburn body types.

I'm not buying it though. I think you have to dress for yourself and your own body and not follow trends blindly. Just because GAP is running out of ideas and has to go back fifty-years for a look, we have to rush out ourselves?

I want to stop seeing chubby teenaged girls with "muffin tops" coming out of their low-rise jeans. American children and teens are facing obesity and the fashion is to go tighter and lower? Teenaged girls are the most insecure about their bodies, have surging hormones storing fat in the wrong places, and they're wearing tighter clothes that accentuate their "womanly blossoms." Unfortunately, with teenagers, they will want to wear what everyone else is wearing. Again, I don't get it.

I see my daughter has a fantastic sense of style (not inherited from me obviously!). She can put things together really well, and I only interfere when she wants lime green top with magenta skirt or the orange top with the purple skirt. The tops and skirts actually look really good together in terms of style, and would look great were it not for the colors!

By the way, there's one person at work who I know who will be happy about the skinny pants. She has been wearing leggings with big shirts since the 80's. So, I guess if you're consistent and don't care to slightly update yourself, trends do come around again!

Oh, speaking of leggings. I'm shocked, shocked, shocked to see leggings under the skirts! I wore these back in college! It was my "look" back then - lots of layered clothes. Now young girls at the mall are wearing the same thing. Crazy.

What's next -- denim jean shorts with black tights?
(Raise your hand if you wore these to parties in the late 80's/90's and thought you were so cool!)

On Being Five: Dreams

"Do you know why I come into your bed?"

"Why?"

"Because I have bad dreams. Then, I come into your bed and I have good dreams."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And then I go back to my bed and take the good dreams with me. I turn my pillow over so I will have good dreams too."

*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I let her come to my bed if she has bad dreams. After a few minutes of warm cuddles, she becomes quite comfortable in my bed. Then, starts kicking, turning, sleeping horizontally, on top of my head, and any other twisted position she could conjure. Then, I pick her up and put her back in her bed. Then, we all fall asleep happily in separate rooms.

However, I loved how she came up with this analysis and explanation about her dreams.

It really is wonderful being five where you are balancing on two worlds. I think when kids are younger, they can't separate reality and fantasy. Five-year-olds will question fantasy, but they choose to accept it as reality. I think that's the charm we find in them - the wide-eyes and the easy laughter.

I've always thought 5 was the perfect age to be.

Edna St. Vincent Millay Poem

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet XLIII)
-Edna St. Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I never thought too much about Edna before, but I came across this poem yesterday on PoemHunter.com and thought it was beautiful and melancholic.
Photograph is The Kiss, Paris 2003 by Gavin Martin.

The Queen and the Soldier

The Queen And The Soldier
- Suzanne Vega

The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door
He said, "I am not fighting for you any more"
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.

He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why."

Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
She asked him there to sit down.

He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won
And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?"

The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.

And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.

" Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won't march again on your battlefield"
And he took her to the window to see.

And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.

And he said, "I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don't understand
Your highness, your ways are very strange."

But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait
She would only be a moment inside.

Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I used to listen to Vega's songs back in college. Remember "Tom's Diner" and "Solitude Standing"? I used to put on my headphones and listen to the tape as a meditative tool, lying on the dorm bed and unwinding my brain.

This song always stayed with me as a poet for its simplicity and the ability to tell a complicated story. The plot is quickly established and the characters are familiar. It has a fairy tale appeal with the surprising message. It moves very quickly.

I always loved the line, "And to love a young woman who I don't understand" because it makes it seem that men and women do not "get" each other and that is a fact of life. It's not a Mars/Venus phenomenon, but what it is and always has been. Also, the soldier's request for it makes male/female relationship become on of the pleasant struggles in life. The soldier wants that since he's seen enough of war and death that ensues.

This song came to mind earlier while listening to the news. In times of war and the unknown motivations of our leaders, it makes us realize that our story is not new. It also shows the common man being more grounded than the queen, and the queen is so vulnerable inspite of her strong facade. Those we deem as powerful are probably the weakest and use their power as a shield. And, the soldier chose to question and once he had the upper hand, she destroyed him for his actions.

(photograph of Arundel Castle, West Sussex England is from Photo-zen.com)

Five Years Ago

I shouldn't be surprised by the 9/11 coverage, but it's hard to watch the replaying of newscasts and these other films. I heard one radio doctor say that children who do not have a concept of time may find the constant replaying of the disaster disconcerting - i.e., they would think it's happening now.

I don't understand why we need to see this. 9/11 has not been forgotten. It's part of our every day reality. We wake up to news about US soldiers killed by roadside bombs in Iraq, Afghani children who can't go to school, the Iranian president's pronouncements against the west and the suffering of Lebanese families who can't recieve aid. These are all consequences of that day and the actions of this country.

Of course we all remember that day. I was in a morning grad class at that time. We left the classroom at 10 and there was a crowd in front of the TV monitors in the hallway. Someone explained to me that it was terrorist attack, hijackers at the WTC and Washington. I quickly called my husband and asked him if we knew anyone who was there, and thankfully he said no. I called my sister and father, and they were home and had not turned on the TV yet. My sister used to work at WTC and still had friends at her old company in the 2nd tower. She was trying to keep tabs all day with other friends who worked in the surrounding buildings. My cousin and uncle later had a trying day as they left NYC amidst the chaos.

I rushed home after the 2nd tower fell. I felt like planes were dropping from the sky. Everything was chaotic. I stopped to buy bread and felt incredibly guilty. How could I do something so mundane?

That day, we had my sister and my husband's brother come over. My mother-in-law was with us and I spent so many hours just holding my daughter, who was 7 months old. She represented all the goodness and promise in the world that was left. I remember we all needed to come together and wished for world peace in our way.

At that time, I was reading "Cracking India," which is about the Partition of India and Pakistan from the point of view of a young girl. After spending hours glued to the TV, I looked to the book for distraction. However, I had reached the section where Lenny's world changes overnight. Now that we just witnessed this tragedy, I understood exactly how this could happen and change your view of the world. We went from feeling light to feeling suddenly vulnerable, exposed and frightened of our neighbors. I met Bapsi Sidhwa at a writer's conference last year and I was able to tell her how her book paralleled events for me.

After my class, I had stopped at the computer lab and everyone was glued to the TV monitors. There was a Russian classmate, who leaned over to me and made a comment about this being America's problem and we could 'go back to where we came from, you know?" I just said 'ok' to her. For me to go back to where I came from would be to go to NY.

I call myself a New Yorker at heart. I grew up in Queens, migrated to NJ in my early teens and out west to PA after marriage. I worked in NYC and loved the rhythm of the city. I still do. I remember going to the WTC after work with my sister. There was a bar downstairs (it began with M?). After a drink, we'd have to catch the train back to NJ. I remember running through the towers to the Path station and it took me a long time! That's part of the whole disaster that stuns me. The size, the enormity of it. How could people even get out of the building that big?

When I would emerge from a subway downtown, I'd look for the Towers to orient myself. When I was midtown, I'd look for the Empire State building. Invariably, I'd still walk in the wrong direction. We have a photograph of me when I was 3 against the backdrop of the NY skyline. The twin towers are still under construction. I remember when I was a little older my friend Ken and I would argue about which building was taller - the WTC or Empire State. We had nothing else to do in the backseat on roadtrips anyway.

After the towers fell, the only pictures you saw were the ones of the towers in flames, lit like wild candles. I hated those posters and shirts that came out later with pictures of the towers on there. I did not want to see them at all. It seemed obscene.

Then after some time, I sought out pictures of the towers. In the opening credits of "Friends" or in a movie that showed the NY skyline. It suddenly seemed comforting, reminscent of simpler times.

Fall-ing

The Apple Tree
- Dorothy Parker
When first we saw the apple tree
The boughs were dark and straight,
But never grief to give had we,
Though Spring delayed so late.

When last I came away from there
The boughs were heavy hung,
But little grief had I to spare
For Summer, perished young.


*******************************************
I feel strongly about the last line this year. Summer slipped away so quickly. Living in the northeast, we feel the seasons. I always wondered what it'd be like to live in a place without drastic seasonal changes, like FL or AZ. I don't think I would miss the seasons. I thrive in the sunshine and warmth.

Fall, albeit beautiful in its colors, is very grim to me. We're finding beauty in its decay. The smells of autumn we cherish are only the fallen leaves mixing back to the earth. It's almost as if it's a last exciting show before the curtain falls. Then the theatrical crew cleans up and leaves the stage bare, revealing its harsh structures.

The weather today is in the 80's and there is still much green on the trees. Because we live in the northeast, we treasure our time with summer as long as she'll stay for us. While I love warm weather, I also love the vibrant greenery and lushness my state has to offer.

On the Job Training: Motherhood - Part 16b - Who is going back to school?

Well we survived this week. She and I waited at the corner for the school bus. She danced and twirled around while I feared she'd twirl right into traffic. I would hug and kiss her good bye, and help her to climb the big steps on the bus. She would sit in the first seat and wave to me with an excited smile. From behind the tinted glass, she looked so small. (What am I doing? Where is she going without me!? Where's her booster seat? What kind of society is this?) I would brush away a tear and walk to my car. For the first time in years, I am driving directly to work, not stopping at the daycare.

There's been a lot of excitement this week about the first day of school. The saying is that you get to relive your childhood through your children. That's definitely true. However, childhood was not always popcorn and butterflies. Now, all those anxious memories of school are surfacing!

The Bus
My sister and I used to walk to elementary school, but took the bus in middle and high school. It was at the corner and we could just about hear the bus come down the street. I think of all those days we had to wait in the heat, cold, and rain with kids. We had to drag our instruments, tennis rackets, gym bags and book bags to the bus stop. There was always commotion in the morning; we couldn't miss the bus because my father had already left for work and we'd have no ride. We would finish eating our toasts at the bus stop. There's a foggy memory of Mom bringing a mug of milk to the stop for myself, my sister or my brother.

Now, I'll be waiting at the stop again. Fortunately, the two of us could wait in my car at the corner so we won't have to withstand the elements. However, we do have the morning rush in the house. My daughter is a slow eater and we've got a routine of begging her to stop talking and keep eating. I'm working on getting organized in the morning to eliminate any last-minute rushes. Again, I'm feeling anxious about missing the bus. I could easily drop her, but that's not the point. You're committed to taking a bus.

Homework
Yes, I know she's in kindergarten, but she has homework. We have a blank calendar for September, which needs to be completed with the dates and color.

I'm getting panicky about homework because I was not disciplined about it as a child. I think all three of us had this problem. We did not have a set schedule for doing homework. We'd come home, watch TV, play outside and it wasn't until after dinner we settled down to do it. Then we would be yawning while my father explained math and chemistry to us. In high school, we'd come home around 7 or 8 from tennis games or music rehearsals. We would settle down to do it then. I remember doing homework first thing in the morning or during other classes.

My husband also confesses to hating school and homework. He was in the Indian school system, which is much tougher and has a lower tolerance than the US system. He said he consistently was in trouble for not doing it, and maybe more so because his mother was a professor. He just makes a face about how much he hated school.

My first question to parents with school-aged children is, "When do you do homework?" Most of them say they do it as soon as the kids come home. They know there are too many distractions to delay it. I'm going to start now so both she and I will become disciplined about this.

Other Stuff
I've gotten a bunch of papers about fundraisers and activities. I don't particularly like doing the fundraisers, such as the entertainment books. Really, who can you sell it to if every school is doing it and your friends are in the same boat as you? I'll gladly make a donation to the school in lieu of peddling wrapping paper at work.

Circle of Life
If this is all part of the circle of life, let me tell you, it's quite a dizzy ride!

On the Job Training: Motherhood - Part 16: First Day of Kindergarten

Woke her up this a.m. and told her she's no longer my "baby doll," just my "doll." (held back tears).

Looked for the camera, turned it on and read "Change Batteries." Looked for video camera and thankfully that was charged for a change. Asked her questions during breakfast and learned she really has no clue what the first day of school means. I told her she'll be doing this now until she's 22 at least.

Warning (Bragging Mom Ahead): She looked absolutely cute! She wore a pink collared dress with a white sweater, new pink & brown shoes that we bought last night. I did two little half-French braids and let her curls come down. It was a bit freaky how much she looked like me on my first day of schools -- but aren't you supposed to be like this? (Just because my mom did this to me, I feel I have to do this to her.) I was surprised no one else wore a dress, but my girl is really a girly-girl so any excuse to wear a dress is perfect for her. If she could've worn a tiara, she would've.

We went with her for the orientation day where she played with just about everything -- puzzles, piano, books, coloring, blocks. We asked her what she planned to do the rest of the year. Met the teacher who was nice.

I was reading an article on getting kids ready for KG and it pointed out that KG teachers are probably the nicest people on the planet. That makes sense. Every teacher or office personnel we met this morning looks like they had consumed bowls of Frosted Flakes and Froot Loops for breakfast. (I was pining for the rest of my coffee!)

After the 2 hours there, we returned her to private daycare/school where she will continue the rest of the day. They have a full day KG so she will do public school in the a.m., private KG in the afternoon + aftercare.

She was having fun and this all seemed normal. Then I met the other KG teacher, Ms. H., a bubbly, sugar-cereally young woman. She handed me a "gift," a ziploc bag with a cotton and tea bag with a note attached:

Dear parents:
Here is a little gift for you as you leave your precious one with me on the first day of school. As you hold this cotton ball in your hand, the softness will help you to remember the gentle spirit of your child. After you've gone home and dried your tears, make yourself a hot cup of tea. Put up your feet and relax. Remember that together you and I will work for your child to be the best they can be.

Thank you for entrusting your child to me for the coming school year. I will do my very best every day to be your child's guide in learning and exploring this bright, new world they've stepped into.


She should've added the tissues!
(*sniff*)

Tomorrow - she rides the bus alone to school.
(*sniff* *stifled sob* *sniff*)

More on Writing

Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for the love of it, then you do it for a few friends, and finally you do it for the money.
- Moliere

So, I was happily surprised yesterday to receive a $10 check in the mail as payment for a poem. It was accepted into Thema Literary Society's issue "A Perfect Cup of Coffee" for 2007. This is my first literary journal acceptance. I'm also excited because this brings my total literary earnings LTD (Life to Date) to $30.00.

It's even more ironic because two blogs ago I was wishing for a poetry acceptance (remember the ego boost I needed?). Now, I am wondering if making public wishes mean they will be granted. Were we all misled by believing wishes must be secrets?

Anyway, what I wish for now is help at work. An assistant. A smart person to help me with my workload. I have too much going on and not enough help and it's affecting my work-life balance. If only I could get my literary earnings up so I could quit my day job!

By the way, I also got a rejection today from a South Asian anthology, which is a downer. However, now that I've been keeping track of my submissions, I see there might be problems with the specific piece that I'm peddling. I need to work on that.

However, I'm taking work home these days so it's cutting into my writing time. I need to write so I don't have to work, but I can't write because I have to work.

The quote that drives me the most in my writing endeavors is this one:

There's nobody out there waiting for it, and nobody's going to scold you if you don't do it. - Lynne Sharon Schwartz

I know I am the only one waiting for it and I am the only one to scold myself.

Love and Marriage in Movies & Life

So, I divert from my usual banter about motherhood, and talk about the other M word that occupies our lives – Marriage.

I finally watched the rest of “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” last week, though I had watched the first part a few months ago. It was an interesting movie and I liked the irony of their relationship.

There’s a shootout scene at end. (Disclaimer: I’m a Gandhian and believe in nonviolence, so please don’t think I’m endorsing gun or violence here! I looked away during 40% of this movie) With their guns and ammunition, the shootout is well-choreographed. At one point, Angelina and Brad face each other and slide their arms through each other and fire away. They’re protecting each other’s backs. It is a visual that illustrates what marriage is. There are times you may want to kill your partner with your own hands, but in the end, you’ll take a bullet for them. Brad and Angelina's physical stance shows the integrated team work involved in order to survive. It should be the two against the outside world.

Unfortunately, I know a few marriages disintegrating right now. I have seen others vanish, leaving just the chalk outline, a drawing, a semblance of a “marriage” that was there and stopped existing at some point. The complexities and dynamics between two people are hidden to the outsiders. We can all speculate, but it needs to come from within them. I'll badly paraphrase a quote I once heard - one would never expect success in career to come immediately or without hard work. How come we expect a instant success in a marriage?

Two unique individuals come together with all their separate experiences and attitudes. Now they have to figure out how to make everything work. It won't be champagne and strawberries all the time, but the good moments should outweight the bad ones.

One of my favorite movies is “The Notebook.” I haven’t read the book, and I’m fine with it (yes, really I am). I adore this movie so much. First, it’s a total Hindi movie! Rich girl loves poor boy, but rich girl must marry rich boy out of familial duty and security. Yet, in the end, love conquers all. To further validate the Bollywoodesque qualities, the Hindi movie “Black” used the vehicle of a notebook to tell a story to someone who was incapacitated. Interesting.

Anyway, this movie makes me cry. Yes, I’m admitting to my readers sitting in Sri Lanka, Chile, Singapore and New York that this movie makes me bawl hysterically. To further demonstrate my sentimentality about this movie, I do not even need to be watching this movie to start crying. (Reminder: I am a moody Cancerian, so maybe this is not such a great feat).

What moves me is not the young romantic story, but the relationship between James Garner and Gena Rowland. In case you haven’t seen it, James reads “the notebook” story to his wife (Gena) who has Alzheimer’s. As he reads the story to her, she comes back to him. What I find touching is his dedication to her and how close their lives are tied. Because of the young Noah and Allie characters, you can recognize the older characters. When James Garner cries, he's crying for the young Allison he keeps in his heart, not the fragile old woman. Above all, it shows what the security of a good marriage means - having someone to hold you at your weakest moments.

A song that has always moved me is Natalie Merchant’s “My Beloved Wife.” Read the words, listen to her sing. When she sings, she chokes up at one point, feeling the pain of the husband. Between this song and the "Notebook" it seems so profound when two souls are so tied together they can step into death at the same time.

A few years ago, a colleague's elderly mother-in-law had cancer for a long time and was in a hospice. Her husband was always there to take care of her, although he was elderly himself. It was a struggle since she was a bit of a cranky old broad, and would only eat if he fed her. Obviously, it was taxing on everyone. Then the father-in-law had kidney problems and was admitted to the hospital on Friday. Meanwhile, at the hospice, the doctors were waiting for the wife to die, giving her a week to live. On Tuesday morning, the father-in-law suddenly passed away. Everyone was surprised and afraid to tell the mother. They did not have to tell her. Within 7 hours, the wife died. In a way, it seemed like a beautiful end to their marriage and their life. He left first, as if to welcome her and take care of her again.

Stories like this one or even Christopher and Dana Reeves story, it seems like marriages are conducted by powers beyond us. We can't understand why some are so harmonious while others are cacophonous and are destructive. So, we look to the movies, books and art to help us understand and maybe dwell upon the intricacies of relationships.

DesiLit,Writers, Writing

So now that I've organized my writing efforts and put my project management skills to work, I'm getting my work published online. I've gotten rejections, but the acceptances outweight the effects of the rejections. Though I could use an acceptance of my poetry somewhere (just for an ego boost!)

Anyway, check out DesiLit's first online magazine for my review of Shashi Tharoor's Bookless in Baghdad. The DesiLit editors did an impressive job in selecting quality work for their magazine and I enjoyed reading the bios of the contributors, since each seem as fascinating as their work.

As for Tharoor, I had the opportunity to meet him last year and saw him speak on two different occasions, just months apart. I wanted to see him at another event, but feared he'd call me a stalker. Here's a picture from the SAJA writers conference last year. I had asked him to sign my "Mirrorwork" book while my cousin and friends took the pictures. (We turned from smart, confident women into giggling author groupies at this event, dribbling phrases like "I loved your book.") He had read a chapter from "Bookless in Baghdad" and it would not be released in the US for a few months. Fortunately, someone brought this book for us from India.

That was a great event with speakers like Anita Desai, Suketu Mehta and Jhumpa Lahiri. For me it was most powerful to see Jhumpa on stage. I admit - as an aspiring and passionate writer - I've been jealous of Jhumpa's success. Usually I think, what does she have that I don't? From what I know, our lives and upbringing are quite similar, except that she continued with her MFA and has a Pulitzer, while I took detours and ended up with an MS in Information Science. (Damn proud of that I am!)

That day, she had come to the event with her husband and children. Her husband was taking care of the little ones and while on stage, she would nervously glance at them. Her husband was taking the crying kids out of the auditorium. As soon as she was able to get off the stage, she raced out of the auditorium and they all left. That made me realize that at the end of the day, when you're done with your Pulitzer and author presentations, you are a mom with a crying baby. This is what is always on the forefront of who you are. In that light, everything looked so different about being a literary success.

I also got over my feelings of frustration, too. I always felt, she's taking my stories. That day she read an excerpt of an upcoming novel. I listened and realized these are her stories and mine are totally different. There's not just one queue for literary success. There are many and we're in parallel queues (and mine just happens to wrap around the block!)

By the way, I blogged about this event for DesiLit.

Step into Wonderland

ALICE
She drank from a bottle called "DRINK ME"
and up she grew so tall.
She ate from a plate called "TASTE ME"
and down she shrank so small.
And, so she changed while other folks
never tried nothin' at all.

- Shel Silverstein, "Where the Sidewalk Ends"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Today was a great day where I took a vacation day and called it Family Fun Day. We took off from work and preschool camp. First, we stopped at a park that we've passed hundreds of times and always said, "We should go there." We walked along a beautiful walking trail, past the Wissahickon River and collected sparkly stones. The sunshine through the trees and walking in the woods reminded us that we've been so out of touch with nature. This summer has been busy with social events and home renovations; we haven't gone to the beach or the mountains or even local parks.

We had lunch in Chinatown, followed by a visit to the Please Touch Museum. I had never been there, but always though "we should go there. " She went to the Franklin Institute two weeks ago on a field trip and has been talking incessently about it. She wasn't keen on any other museum until I told her that this was the Alice in Wonderland museum. Then she was unbelievably excited, jumping around as soon as she entered the museum. she raced up to an employee and asked, "Where's Alice in Wonderland?" She raced up the ramp. She was shouting, "My wish has come true! I've always wanted to go there!" Everyone laughed.

In our eyes, it looked more like a playground than a museum; Ikea has a lot of these little tunnels and play areas in their store that is just as cool. The Alice section was nice -- beautifully painted, but not much there. The gaps obviously needed to be filled by imagination. To a 5-year-old, this was Wonderland. She had the chance to open tiny doors, run through tunnel (a.k.a. the Rabbit Hole) and sit at a table with the Mad Hatter and pour tea. We went through the Alice circuit 3x. I cracked up because she wanted to do it in order of the story -- we can't play croquet with flamingos until we have the tea party. I think there was more to the story that should've been there, though.

We followed up with coffee at Starbucks in Chestnut Hill. We were excited to check out some of the small shops, especially the cheese shop. We've always said, "we should go there," but it closed. So, we headed home, taking the long route for a change. Earlier, we were at a stoplight and looking at one of the older homes. Philadelphia has the most amazing stone homes. These are 100+ years old, so the architecture is beautiful. Maintenance and upkeep vary from house to house. There was one house and the landscaping caught both of our attention. We were awakened from our reverie by a horn from two cars behind (apparently the car directly behind us was also looking).

To continue our fun day, Annika took the rocks that we collected today and painted them. She wanted to do a project, and after a couple of other attempts (including snipping Barbie's hair), she came upon this idea. So, it's kinda cool that she has a rock collection - sparkly rocks with mica and "one of a kind" purple and light blue rocks.

Today was a day in Wonderland for me. I know tomorrow I will wake up to a day of meetings and a testy client (already checked email and see how much "fun" lies ahead). I've been so swamped and backlogged at work that I've been taking work home for the last 3 months (the first time in 5 years that I'm doing this). Aside from my birthday in June, I haven't taken days off this whole year. I realized the top managers are taking days off (when they should be on site!) and my clients are skipping out for weeks at a time. I can certainly take one day for myself and my family. This was totally worth it!!!

On Being Five - Belief in the World

In the morning, I usually watch "Good Morning America" or "Today" while rushing through breakfast and getting ready for work. Annika was looking at some books and magazines and wandering around for her things.

Annika: Mommy, do you want a beautiful home?

Me: Yes.

Annika: Then come to Oscar Huber for a beautiful home.

*Pause. Didn't I just hear a commercial for Oscar Huber furniture. I laughed and hugged her.

Me: It's a commercial. You can't believe everything they say.

Annika: Why?

Me: Because they want you to come to their store. That's all. You don't have to do everything you hear.

Annika: Oh.

This actually reminded me of an incident when she was 3 years old. She was watching "Caillou" or something on PBS. It was interrupted by a fundraising break, which usually begins "We have a message for the parents and grandparents."

She called me to the room, "Mommy! they have a message for you!"

It was incredibly cute, but it's an innocent example of the impact of television messages and the trust they have in the adults.

By the way, my article on children and the media was published online this week for ABCDLady.com.

You Gotta Have Friends!

Oprah's magazine this month deals with friendship, and since she forgot to ask me to write something, I decided I'd go ahead now.

"The language of friendship is not words but meanings."
Henry David Thoreau
I've been thinking about friends because there have been changes in our friend circles in the last 5 years. We had a fairly large group of close friends. We met regularly to hang out, we all climbed on a bus to midwest for someone's wedding, another had a premature baby and we rushed to the hospital. Since everyone had left home behind, friends now become family. Unfortunately, due to pettiness, immaturity and pretentious behavior, the friendship dissolved. It was hard and hurtful. We always felt it was their loss for having misappropriated priorities.

We bumped around with some other friends in the area, but we missed the momentum. Fortunately, we've found a new group of energetic friends. This group has more promise for longevity as we are at similar stages in our lives with careers, homes, children and have common interests. Since we're all over 35, we are comfortable with ourselves and relationships with others. There's no room for jealousy or pretentious behavior.

I've seen my parents weave in and out of friend circles throughout their lives. However, there are some faces that are always there. I'm hoping the same for us.

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. "
C. S. Lewis
Work has been very stressful for me lately. It's not supposed to be like this and is physically and emotionally absorbing (it is a blog unto itself!) I've found keeping in touch with my friends throughout the day is keeping me motivated and grounded.

Last week my friend called to catch up and after I hung up, I ran into my colleague. He asked me why I was smiling. I said I didn't know I was smiling. He said, "Yeah you've got such a big smile going on." (as opposed to my new found perpetual frown!) I told him I was just talking to a friend. He knows me so he had to ask, "Oh, so you're meeting for drinks?" I told him, "No, but it was a good idea!"

And, it's wonderful because the connection came at a time when I felt disconnected and submerged under pressure. It reminded me of my life outside of work and I felt energized.

I have some other girlfriends and we email regularly -- just to vent, talk about new purchases, etc. It's crazy type of relationship because we're in 3 different states and the other girls have never met each other! I'm the only connection they have; I introduced them all because I was getting tired of telling each of them that she reminded me of the other.

Again, it's connection that reminds me of my place in the world. I'm not confined to my desk or the physical building.

Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I'm thrilled that communication between myself and some old friends has jump-started, either through phone calls or emails. It's so amazing that we may not have spoken in months or years, but we definitely can pick up the conversation where we left it. That is the beauty of old friendships. Trying to coordinate a meeting is another story!!

"True friends stab you in the front. "
- Oscar Wilde
This is a topic my friend and I discussed the other day. I suppose as like-minded women, we have to analyze things until it's raw. Yes, couldn't we just enjoy the mango without digging for the pit? Of course, but if we didn't do this we wouldn't know the pit was there and get hurt later when we bit into it. Therefore we analyse and dissect.

Annika and T have been best friends since the baby room at daycare. They were practically joined at the hips since they could toddle. When they were 3, the teacher told me they were mad at each other one day, yet they refused to be apart from one another. So, still mad, they had to sit together. Around that time, Annika started doing her own hair. She put a pin or something in her hair and T said, "Annika, that looks dumb." T's mom was there and apologized for the comments she's picking up from her big brother.

However, that's actually what friends do. She should tell you, "Girl, you should not wear your hair like that." And if she's older than 3, she could show you how you can look your best.

When I was in college, I remember I confided everything in Jim and Luis. When I talked to Jim, he would tell me what I wanted to hear, which was comforting - "I can't believe that! That's unbelievable. You don't deserve that." Luis, on the other hand, would be straight with me and tell me what I needed to hear -- "Look, you gotta do it. It's not easy, but you just have to. "

The challenge to this level of honesty in friendships is knowing if the person is ready to handle this. I know someone else who ended one relationship and has settled into another for the wrong reasons. It's hard for her friends to see her with the new partner.

So, being the honest, upfront, let-me-tell-ya-the-truth kinda friend is only effective when the other person is ready. You can throw the ball into her court, but she's gotta be ready to accept the ball. It's all about timing.

There was another quote that I can't find.. the friends we have are reflections of ourselves.

The Lady In the Water

We saw this movie last night so there are spoilers here! In case you have not seen it yet, just bookmark me and visit when you have.

I like Shyamalan's movies and have always found the stories creative, consistent and tight. Every scene, dialogue, shot has a purpose to help build the story.

He's dubbed this a "bedtime story," but I think of it as a fantasy story or a message in a bottle. The movie opens with an animated story of the history of Man and Narfs. This reminds me of something I've seen on Sesame Street, which is good. Its purpose is to lure the audience to a state of innocence and childlike belief before the movie starts.

Telling the secrets
The Chinese mother was a perplexing to me. He used her to spread the story, let it unfold. "Oh yeah, there's another thing." "Oh wait, there's this thing." Why didn't Shyamalan just let someone hold it another way - i.e., an ancient book or series of painting. Maybe the answers could have been in the trees or grass,. Maybe we're used to the "The Da Vinci Code" where we need to decipher clues, but it's based on something. Listening to the Chinese mother retell her grandmother's version is hard to digest. The only deciphering was done through the daughter.

Going through the mother seemed haphazard and unreliable. And, it would have been more beautiful to let her be part of the real events - as she already believed in Narfs.

Kill the Critic
I thought the critic was hilarious! Seems like Shyamalan put all his feelings toward professional film critics into this character. It was funny that the predictable suggestions the critic had made were all wrong (i.e., who's the symbolist, guild). Those are the predictions we in the audience would make and they went with it. The last scene with the critic said it all.

Story Time
My first question to Shyamalan is why did the folks not give real clothes to Story? Why did she have to walk around in a big shirt all the time? Bryce Dallas Howard has such expressive eyes, you've seen them in her father Ron before. I always thought nonverbal acting was more impressive than actual delivery of dialogue. I loved this shot of her - kudos to Mr. Shyamalan for using multiple mirrors to do a reflective shot. This is a fabulous shot because you don't know how to view her.
She could be anything. In the movie, her face is in one mirror, her shoulder in the other.

Paul Giammati. He's awesome. He captured the character, his insecurities, his feelings and everything.

I didn't realize the sister was played by Sarita Chaudhry (Mississippi Masala). Both she and Shyamalan did a great job as well. If there's one thing that stands out about Shyamalan movies, you have a rainbow of people on the screen - real people, fat, brown, skinny, old. People you would know. (Ok, except for "Signs" when you had those aliens!)

Oh yeah, the scary part
It is important to remember Shyamalan likes "suspense," not "horror." This movie is PG-13, so it's mild. There are the other creatures who live among us, in the shadows. Scrunts are just big scary wolf like creatures who hid among us. So maybe he is dipping into the European folk tales about the wolves as evil creatures. The tree monkeys looked like they fell out of Wicked Witch of the West's posse. I think he could've done better. Perhaps a more mystical apparition that appears and disappears would've been better. This was like a wild animal loose. (Come here, Cujo).

In the End
This movie is about hope for humanity. It has a warm, fuzzy feel to it - we are not alone, someone cares for us.

I felt like there was some gaps though. Getting the story piecemeal was hard. By the way, as a Disney Princess Mom, I had Ariel and the Little Mermaid deeply embedded in me. I see Story, I see Ariel's red hair. I see the grotto under the pool, I see the grotto where Ariel hid her treasures. And, Story stole human treasures too.

Also, I was surprised how readily all the tenants believed Cleveland when he told them. I think there should've been more "Are you for real?" However, letting everyone easily believe the story, made it feel more of a fantasy.

Anyway, do enjoy this movie for the fantasy, the hope, great acting and everything else.

On the Job Training Motherhood - Part 15b Addendum to Chuck E

Just to let you know that the party on Wednesday was postponed to Thursday - thus extending my anxiety. So, on Thursday, we went and it wasn't so bad. They renovated the place and it looked more open. Maybe that was it - bad Feng Shui. Kids had a blast - 14 5-year-old girls screaming, screaming, screaming. It's a "lovely" high-pitch noise that exceeds any sound meter readings.

My girl had a bit of anxiety attack when she knew ChuckE was coming out. She kept whispering to me and holding on to me. I told her not to worry and that there was a person inside the costume.

So, she said, "OK, let me tell everyone!"

I told her it was a secret. Geesh, I didn't want to be responsible for breaking ChuckE's spell to all the little girls and ruining the birthday party! So, Annika was calmer, but a bit excited. She mimicked her friends in the chanting of "We Want Chuck E!" Then ChuckE came out and greeted the kids. They all ran over, including Annika. And, she hugged him. I think she hugged him extra just to prove it to herself.

I had a decent time chatting with some of the mothers. Girls will be going to KG next September so we're all a bit nervous about the change in routines.

By the way, one of the fathers there had suggested there should be a parents lounge where they can relax. I'll take that suggestion one step further and say it should be a clear room, lots of windows so you can see what's happening. Yet it should be sound-proof so you don't hear all that ruckus!

On the Job Training: Motherhood - Part 15: No More Chuck E Cheese!!

Sorry to be a wee bit harsh. I have a Chuck E Cheese party in 2 hours. I seriously hate these parties and wish parents would do something else. This is her best friend from school's birthday, so we have to go. Her mom told me this a few months ago that her daughter wanted her birthday here. "Great!" I said with a frozen smile.

In case you live in a Chuck-E free world, this is a pizza party place for kids. They have arcade games, tunnels to climb through, entertainment by a 6" gray mouse & robotic characters. Parties are 90 minutes long and there can be 5 (?) parties simultaneously. They provide pizza, cake, prizes and a party coordinator. Sounds great, doesn't it?

It's total chaos. Birthday child is in the tunnel, one friend is playing a game, someone else is running over there. Parents are either escorting their child through or maybe if they're lucky they can gab with other parents. I always felt the birthday child is lost because they're competing with the games and activities. Not only do you have the other birthday parties going on, there are regular customers who come in. It's too crazy.

When Annika was younger, I had to stay alert the whole time. First of all, there were 7-9 year old kids running around. She was a toddler who wanted to do whatever others were doing, so I had to keep her in close check.

The craziest party was Austin's 3rd birthday. Austin freaked out when Chucke came. He started screaming. Then various kids on the table started crying too! It was a group-fear phenomena. Moms are consoling their kids, taking them out.

We went to one more party a little after that and it was better. Yet, Austin & Annika were still frightened of Chucke and refused to go to the table.

Pizza is average. Cake is pathetic.

They need a bar. Margaritas for moms and dads.

Neruda, Love & Us..

XVII (I do not love you...)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Translated by Stephen Tapscott

~*~*~*~*~

I've always loved this poem in the context of my daughter - even before she was born. The last two lines came to mind the other day when I was reading a bedtime story. We're sitting on her bed, she's in my lap and we both have pj shorts. Her bare knees, my bare knees were touching. I wove my arms through hers and let my elbows angle into hers. I just felt my body and her body were so entwined. Ever since she was born, I had this weird sensation. If I'm holding her and I pat her on the back, I'm always surprised that I don't feel my hand through her body. I feel we're still part of each other.

Women Writers

I had this list saved, and wanted to share it. I got it from Chicago Public Library and I've starred my favorites. A bit tricky since I may have read the author's other works and not this particular one (e.g., Isabel Allende)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jane Addams, Twenty Years at Hull House
Louisa May Alcott, Little Women *
Isabel Allende, The House of the Spirits
Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings *
Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice *
Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex
Ruth Benedict, Patterns of Culture
Boston Women's Health Book Collective Staff, Our Bodies, Ourselves
Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre *
Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights *
Susan Brownmiller, Against Our Will: Men, Women, and Rape *
Pearl S. Buck, The Good Earth *
Rachel Carson, Silent Spring *
Willa Cather, My Antonia *
Mary Boykin Chesnut, A Diary from Dixie *
Kate Chopin, The Awakening *
Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson *
Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health
George Eliot (Mary Ann or Marian Evans), Middlemarch *
Fannie Farmer, The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book
Francis Fitzgerald, Fire in the Lake
Dian Fossey, Gorillas in the Mist
Anne Frank, Diary of a Young Girl *
Betty Friedan, The Feminine Mystique
Emma Goldman, Living My Life
Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch
Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Loneliness
Edith Hamilton, Mythology
Betty Lehan Harragan, Games Mother Never Taught You
Karen Horney, Our Inner Conflicts
Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God *
Helen Keller, The Story of My Life *
Maxine Hong Kingston, The Woman Warrior *
Elisabeth Kr-Ross, On Death and Dying
Frances Moore Lapp, Diet for a Small Planet
Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird *
Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook
Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea
Audre Lorde, The Cancer Journals
Carson McCullers, The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter
Katherine Mansfield, The Garden Party *
Beryl Markham, West with the Night
Margaret Mead, Coming of Age in Samoa
Golda Meir, My Life
Edna St. Vincent Millay, Collected Poems
Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind *
Marianne Moore, Complete Poems of Marianne Moore
Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon *
Lady Shikibu Murasaki, The Tale Genji
Anais Nin, The Early Diary of Anais Nin
Flannery O'Connor, The Complete Stories
Zoe Oldenbourg, The World Is Not Enough
Tillie Olsen, Silences
Elaine Pagels, The Gnostic Gospels
Emmeline Pankhurst, My Own Story
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar *
Katherine Anne Porter, Ship of Fools
Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born
Margaret Sanger, Margaret Sanger: An Autobiography
Sappho, Sappho: A New Translation *
May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein *
Susan Sontag, Illness as Metaphor
Gertrude Stein, The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas
Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin *
Barbara Tuchman, A Distant Mirror
Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter
Alice Walker, The Color Purple *
Eudora Welty, Delta Wedding
Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome *
Phyllis Wheatley, The Collected Works of Phyllis Wheatley
Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Women*
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own *