There's a lesson in here somewhere...

While two friends and I were walking along a busy street in Bombay at rush hour, I pointed to the sky and said, "Look! That's such a pretty sunset".

One of them looked up as well and said, "Huh. Funny how little we bother to look up since we're so preoccupied trying to see where we're going".

Over the next few months, I tried hard to be philosophical about that moment and look up at the sky more often. The colours, the cloud formations, the sheer artistic brilliance of it is truly mesmerising.

I currently have nine pairs of shoes.

In the span of three months since I had this revelation, seven of them have had dog poop on the soles.

Yesterday I received a ridiculous email from an old friend which made me laugh out loud. It was filled with nonsense that had a rich sense of tradition, i.e. we had been carrying on with the same fictional characters and story lines for the last three and a half years.

The point is this - there are some things that are worth hanging on to.

Old friends that make you laugh with stupid emails is one of them.

The people that resemble the spawn of Satan are not.

I made some bad character judgements and terrible decisions over the last couple of years. Today I took the time to really think about them and it was hard.

And then I let it go.

I have no doubt that there will be moments when I will come across a picture, an email, or have a conversation that gets me annoyed and wonder, 'How on earth....??!!!'. But I spent the better part of a year working hard on getting my physical health in order. So it's not too high a price to pay to do the same for some mental peace and quiet, and rid myself of the self-recriminations, the effort it takes to not forgive the sorry bastards that we are all blessed with.

With three days left of this year, I have no intention of making any New Year's resolutions for 2010.

Except to be as happy as possible without being annoyingly chirpy about it (I hate those kind of people), while I continue to put one cautious foot in front of the other.

Snow

This time of year is all about making lists.

There is a synopsis of your life as Facebook status messages, shopping inventories for Christmas and yet another round of New Year's resolutions written on an ever-shortening piece of paper.

I usually like to do a run down of all the things I can tick off the 'Giant List of things I want to do while I'm Alive' and then, in a more philosophical moment, consider all the lessons learned, things to be grateful for despite the crappy bits, etc. However, this year, things have been a bit more... busy, than usual. I feel older, a tad wiser, richer (despite being broke), happier, thinner and on the whole, more content with my lot.

So I'll end my reflection on my most recent lesson after witnessing snow for the very first time this past week (yes I know, I'm one of those people that had never seen snow before):

Snow is prettier and infinitely more enjoyable when you're inside, where it's warm and you can feel your feet.

Life is full of teeny, tiny little epiphanies.

Out to Dinner

I can see them wondering what our connection is.

What could we possibly have in common?

The old, white gentleman and the young, brown girl.

I can see what they see.

How absolutely happy we are to see each other.

How we both have tears in our eyes, and they lean closer to catch a snatch of the conversation - the stories you're telling me of people long dead and gone.

How I reach across to hold your strong, wrinkled hand - to comfort you as much as myself, as we talk of the worst bits of our shared story.

I want to tell them to stop staring.

To look away,

because they will never understand that what family means to you and me

has nothing to do with geography, colour or age.

Reality Check

Today I was told that I was a bit of a hypocrite for asking people not to be too bitchy, and then slagging off others on my blog.

It actually got me thinking, what if that's true?!

I'm not a fan of pretentiousness, so this scared me quite a bit.

But after a chat with my sounding board, here's how it is.

Yes, I do talk about things that annoy me, and even people that annoy me and you know what? this is my space to do that.

More to the point, I never mention these people by name - even when it would've been really easy (and God knows more satisfying!) to do so.

I've never found myself with such a low level of self-esteem and nastiness that I needed to talk about someone's physical attributes in order to make my posts seem funnier or more sarcastically appealing to someone reading it. And I hope I never will.

I've been told that 'this is what some people do'. But for the sake of my own sanity and faith in those who I still consider decent human beings, I have to hold on to the hope that this isn't true. And that when the funny talk gets to being downright debased and trashy, someone else has the guts to say that it's wrong, and then walk out of the room.

Something I Wish People Would Understand

There are degrees of comfort.

For example, I am a hugger, but that doesn't mean I'm open to hugging everyone. Or just because one person puts his/her arm around you, it does not mean a proclamation of 'he/she's okay with it', so it'll be fine if anyone does it.

I grew up with a friend who I had an amazing level of comfort with. We could hold hands, hug, sleep right next to each other, and there was never any weirdness involved.

Unfortunately, another friend took this to mean I was all sorts of 'cuddly'.

Which I really am not. It didn't end well.

So the lesson for today boys and girls, is don't base your assumptions about what's okay in terms of physical contact based on what someone does with other people.

They're not you. The rules do not apply.

Something's Off

Last night, a man I'd just met told me that I was lovely.

I'd like to think the traditional answer to that would've been 'Thank you'. Instead, before I could help myself I said, 'Yeah! I've heard that before!' before clamping a hand over my mouth to curb the flow of any more cynicisms.

And as another in a (thankfully!) relatively short line of as***** boyfriends walks down the aisle, I think, 'Whew, sidestepped another potential landmine'. I hear other women talk with regret about the 'One that got away' and wonder what that must feel like. All I have as a frame of reference are the ones that I'm really happy are far, far away from me.

Yup, something is definitely off.

Need To Know Basis

There are people who like knowing things.

Not important things.
Not things that are pertinent to their lives.
Not even things that would enhance their general understanding of the world and all its complexities.

They need to know the mundane stuff. The 'where are you going' and 'what are you doing' and 'who you're doing what with' etc... the stuff that is of really no significance to anyone else.

My Dad is one of those people. Our answers of I'm going out - with friends-to hang out- will be back in a while were absolutely infuriating to him not so much out of parental concern I suspect, but because of the sheer lack of detailing.

There are other people in my life who also have this Need-to-Know issue; and because I do not have enough entertainment in my life, I like to mess with them.

It is absolutely amazing to watch someone get so worked up about a teeny little detail that they know probably won't amount to much, but they need to know about it anyway.

They just can't seem to help themselves.
Then again, neither can I.

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

And that's why we all look forward to the Christmas Holidays.

(TBN: This sprouted from a combined effort of thought. Thanks T)

To my friend the smoker...

There's really no need to explain why you are slowly killing yourself.

After all, we've all been there; when you have those really bad days that just make you want to numb the pain by inhaling tar and a variety of other strange substances.

Then again, the rest of us have moved on.

We discovered alcohol and hugs and other things that made us feel better.

I'm sorry you didn't.

But my pity is limited.

For example, it does not extend to an allowance for making my hair stink every time I'm with you. Or having you accountable for an extra laundry load because all my clothes smell of that horribly acrid stench. Not to mention all that second hand smoke you so kindly share with me.

Those are the mere details.

The real problem I have with the whole situation is, I HATE smoke.

It was fun hanging out with you while it lasted, but I'm afraid that while you continue to slowly introduce your lungs to the possibility of cancer, I'm choosing to... not.