a couple or few

there are a couple or few, or more if we include you, who are not listed on the side over there where the family names are listed as contributors here and it's not for any guilt trip that i say i wish you'd at least add your name today because even if you just visit in silence and even if you don't come by at all your presence is a precious memory i want to keep and just to see your name here... happy tears would fall...

you once let me into your heart and this place is a tribute to that trust... it will always be here as long as the servers allow and you are welcome... you are wanted... you are missed... and i will keep hoping one day when i come back to this place and i will see your name and know you know that you are my blog family and a precious memory and you are always in my heart wherever you go...

may it bring you a smile too, to know you can come here anytime and be reminded someone cares... may it bring some peace of mind to know you can write anything and i will read and respect and be here... even if it is sheer rage or biting pain or cursing at the world, even if you are upset with me... this is a place for you, a couple or few, people we trust and more... just to see your name here... i remember what i come here for... just to see your name here... an open door...

yeah, i know, i'm stubborn this way... i won't stop believing in you... i won't stop encouraging you... and i hope not to annoy you as i remind you again that this place is where you can be true - no matter what you share here - this place respects you... as i do too :)

gentle slumbers?

ah, we can hope they are gentle, but stress, pain, and numbness do not for gentle slumbers make... stress and pain, the physical and emotional conflicts that come from unresolved or uncooperative mind and body systems, they are both restless waters shifting between torrential downpours and boulder-smashing rapids to unseen riptides and mesmerizing whirlpools, none of which is safe to be too close to, no less within... and numbness, the silent killer, leaves the shell of the body wandering in near zombie states through the basic daily activities of survival while the mind avoids, the heart sleeps, and the body vegetates... all can give the appearance of gentle slumbers from the outside, at least to the untrained or ignorant eye, but those who have been there know better that stress, pain, and numbness are no places to stay for long... if we have a choice... and yet, in so many different ways, most of humanity do have a choice and choose to live there (when will we ever learn)...

and we, dear blog family, know the journey all too well... the outside and the inside become one uneasy blend of wtf?... and all we do is continue... but can we continue a bit differently?... the few words we share occasionally is a different kind of river, a river that came bring some positivity of hope that someone does understand, that someone does care, that we are not as along as we feel... i care about you and wish you a smile today, wish we shared more, even a little more, even a word... come out come out wherever you are, and continue...

hello... hello... hello...

Just a drop

1. petty

When someone takes a small subject and blows it out of proportion. 

At times, making something otherwise insignificant into something bigger to suit their own agenda.

But is it still petty if you are bothered by it for close to five years straight? What's my agenda? Is it due to a lack of problems in my life, as he might suggest? But I want this to be my story.. our story. The only story. Not a chapter in a book. Even if the longest, and possibly the last chapter in the book. But I want to be the book. Selfish? Arrogant? Petty? Probably.. 

But this is important to me. I was pondering about most companies' slogan, "Your call/feedback is important to us." And why is that supposed to make me feel important or somehow like they're concerned about me, as they might imply by that sentence. If you dissect the sentence, all it says is, "We don't give a crap about You-You, we need that whatever piece of information that you might accidentally spit out while consuming our product, to make us do something to bring in more cashy-cashy than we already have." So, why do they think this sentence is supposed to make 'Me' feel special and needed and loved by the cold, steel-tentacled corporation?

Where am I going? Ah yes...to 'feeling special.'

This photo. He says it's not important who's standing on the sides of other people on the photo. And it's his parents choice to have it out. But it's him and her. Not me. Constant reminder. This chapter is bookmarked. Do I mention it to them and make it even a bigger deal? Or quietly go crazy and obsessed about it for the next 5 or 10 or however many years? And when our daughter will learn to speak and ask us who's that woman on the photo? Bookmarked chapter. No big deal right? Am I too territorial? I want every sign of her existence in his past to be gone from our present. 

The Sin of comparison. Argh! This photo brings out so many dark thoughts from me. And no one seems to see it being out there as inappropriate. He said we can't rearrange his parents' house and I have to live with this. 

Petty. 

But it's like the Chinese water drop torture.

I realize how ridiculous it is as I'm writing about it, but what you feel tends to be stripped of its intensity by words. Or does it? I don't know. Either way something is lost somewhere along the way. Or is it that I can't find the appropriate words to use. Vent. Vent. Vent. 

ode to z0tl

he was cryptic cool
as death might sound
if we could hear after
life implodes on itself
for he could see beyond
the daily pretenses
into the silence
of the sound

Summer moved on

It felt kinda strange to realize that I don't have a childhood home or place where I could return to and see all my things and furniture just the way they've been while I was growing up. So, I can never do this scene they do in movies, where many years later, they walk real slowly into the permanently unlocked, hazy hued house to find all their memories scattered and unfinished cookies spiderwebbed. 

But, in a way, I'm glad there's no such place, such places tend to be somehow painful. And well, although I'm sort of sentimental and can get attached to my old lamp (which I decorated myself and almost gave it a name) I don't like this feeling. So, I threw the lamp out. Eventually. After years of beautiful co-existence.. It's sorta like being a moth that's pointlessly smashing itself against the window trying to get to the light that it sees inside. But even the moth has a better chance of actually getting to this light rather than me returning to my past. To which I wouldn't really want to return. Not that it was bad. Just thinking of past is always painful and sad. And as A-ha sings about memories - "the good ones hurt more than the bad ones do."

And now, another home that was put together from scratch, will yet again be abandoned, made a home of someone else, never to be able to return to the same experience of home.. just the place. 

Another country to be made into home now.. fast forward to the already settled routine or try to enjoy the chaos that will come before? 

Exciting and yet somehow brings tears to my eyes just by thinking of the move. Is it wrong to abandon your home to make a new home? What is natural to humans? To stay all their life in the same habitat or to wander about? Or to wander about their same habitat? Hm?

Back to the shore

Back to the shore. Peace made with friend. Higher something achieved after the dark night. Or so I think. Learned my lesson. Or so I think. Been too greedy to spend my time on others, perhaps? Yet hope for relationships to just blossom out of dry clay. 

It's not too late. Or so I hope. 

And now for something completely different. When you wear your new/old/goshwhydidibuythis shirt, and read the label that says, "Made in Bangladesh", do you ever imagine who was this person who made this shirt for you? It's weird how buying something in a store removes any credit you would give to a person who actually made it. Yea, I know, not a new thought.. but when you really, really think into it, someone far-far away was sewing this shirt together, which you eventually would buy, so at that moment when they were sewing it, they were actually sewing it for you. That is, if you are not very strict with the concept of the order in which things happen and the time it takes for these things to happen. And there are other, darker thoughts I have when thinking of this and Bangladesh, but it's just too sad to go hang out with those thoughts. 

What's even more weird, if you were to go to Bangladesh as a tourist, you'd probably buy some handmade thingie from the locals, and with a careful smile you'll be trying to say ''thank you" in broken Bengali that you learned while on your trip. And all this gives me a dull, throbbing feeling of guilt, because anyways I'm not going to do anything about it and just continue buying STUFF! 

Younger

Seems I managed to throw myself into some deep, dark water.. and though I still see the shore, it's just scary to realize that the harder I'm trying to swim towards this shore, the further I realize that it is from me. I don't know what set this off, the fight that I got into with my friend, which she now exaggerated to the point where 15 years of friendship could be easily shaken off by her.. or was it just an excuse of hers to end this friendship? Why it bothers me so much more than it does her?

And explaining what is wrong seems wrong and only makes me swim further.."No one understands me!" Oh my, are we 16 again? Didn't you want to be younger? Here you go. 

There's nothing in particular I can complain about. No facts I can give you. No certain story. But my emotions are like a strained out guitar string, ready to pop any second and hit (who? probably myself) in the eye.

I stumbled upon some weird article, while asking google-the-almighty why am I so pathetic; this article spoke of the dark night of the soul. Except I didn't really notice when exactly did I set off on the road to find higher consciousness. 

Is it bad that recently alcohol is the only thing I look for to release this emotional tension-shmension? OH MY GOD, you scream, an alcoholic mother!!! Watch her drop the baby any moment now! Or now!!! Or... now!! Now? While you watch for that, I will go have a cigarette break.

No, not that bad yet.. but I don't know what this is.. but I need to get out of it. I should be able to handle this better. This is what I always wanted, since I was fricking 5!!! And now I don't know how to handle it properly.. 

I suppose if he would show a bit more pride in me being a domestic engineer (hah! you can actually call yourself that when filling out forms; that is, if you were the lucky winner of this complex too, while being a mother.)

WTF.

Losing yourself. 

I used to have hobbies.. true, I was always very lazy to go do them.. but I did do them. And now .. now I don't. 

Comedy of errors.. ha? 

So this is how you become the nagging wife. The jealous wife. The suspicious wife. The wife. Because you understand that this is not what he signed up for.. and probably other bubbly, happy-go-lucky chicks are so refreshing now. 

And suddenly, I'm out of words. Ba..