21

Almost all grown up!

Today because it’s special, made me recollect our first meeting, the first 15 minutes. In that little window of time, you saw me. The ‘me’ that most people only long after got to see.

I’m usually picky when I choose my friends, but with you there was no hesitation, it was purely an instant attachment because I guess I saw a little bit of me in you.

Our shared zest for life and adventure is evident by our sudden outbursts of running along the street, the hunt for the wild boar in Kitulgala, the hike, the discussions, the elevator rides, Machan and the recent near death experience.

Also I must take this opportunity to say that if it wasn’t for your “you better not date him, because I’ll be mighty pissed” threat I might not have realized that the big cuddly cookie is the best thing in the world .I hope he’s not listening to this, otherwise his ego will inflate and we’d have to giggle about it as usual.

Just before I end this little note, oh and don’t worry this tragic blog post isn’t your present. I just want to say that I see you becoming a success one day. Maybe in the field of engineering, wire connecting, bridge or gadget building, or maybe as a wonderful husband, father, brother and friend. Whichever direction you’re bound, I wish you the best and an inspiring twenty-one year ahead.

Appy burpday!

Bitterness

You look at me with troubled eyes,
hoping I would ask you why.

The truth is I don’t want to know,
about the twisted lies, sleepless nights and rows.

I’ve told you what I think,
deep honest answers that makes you flinch.

While you smoke and blink away the tears,
(and I passive smoke, just because I like to, dear)
I sometimes hope it will burn out your fears.

A piece of advice,
honest and completely uncivilized.
Don’t try to be me, N or the guy with the goatee.
We all have our battles and we’re definitely not free.

Not lucky, not good,
not beautiful but maybe a little unique.
So are you, which you don’t want to believe.

We don’t have magical solutions,
escape routes or places to hide.
Learn to state your turf and learn to fight.

Suicide is for cowards, I’ve told you twice,
Thrice if necessary, but don’t start to cry.

Someday, maybe someday soon
all the clichés,
the turning of the tide,
the rainbow after the rain,
the cloud with the sliver lining
will come true and you will laugh at your own surprise.

NOTE: It wasn’t an attempt at poetry, most of it just rhymed so I went with the flow but it sure was an attempt at venting.

Confusion!!

Back in the day, when I was a spiritely 18-year-old I was convinced that my life was as confusing as a computer programming language. I was positive that with age, like wine, things would only get better. This retort obviously didn’t get the much-needed attention I wanted but instead I was politely told that life only gets confusing, as you grow older. This most unexpected remark was uttered by a 26-year-old debonair who used to intimidate the very hair that seems to amuse him now. I scoffed, yes my brazenness and a bit of intimidation getting the better of me, only to be regretted years later.

Now at 22, I can’t help but feel that life is far worse than it was at 18, but we live and learn and things get easier to handle, that’s true for me, and it should be true for everybody else. But I’m sadly mistaken; it’s not, apparently.

N at 30 feels awfully devastated at the latest turn of events. Work pressures and other issues are just driving her to a point of no return and I feel helpless. It’s worse because she is an only child. It’s worse because no one’s pushing her. It doesn’t help that she can’t talk openly with her parents. It’s scary that she thinks everyone’s malicious. So back to a chat with the equally challenging debonair turned chum, lifesaver, partner in all things evil and confidante. He stressed over and over again that it must be tough being 30 and a woman. That I find now all too believable. So what do I do in a situation like this, advice her about the finer points of working smarter (no way), rely on God to help (can’t really count on him) or just simply listen and support her in whatever she wants to do (that’s the way to go). I’ve been thinking this through, really there isn’t much any of us could do, it’s an inner battle, one only she can fight. Age doesn’t help, it makes things worse, with growing grey hair comes a lack of self confidence (not true in every case) and oh you must, absolutely must have a support system. I know who makes me laugh, who gives me the best advice, who pushes me beyond the push-able limit, who will hold me when I cry and you get the drift. While typing that I must say I really do have the most wonderful support system, no wonder I pull through every time I go into one of my many phases.

With that I wrap up this rambling post. Damn I worry when menopause hits.