Sunday Scribblings #13 - Phenomenon

I am a phenomenon.
How do I know this?
I looked to dictionary-dot-com,
And was reassured.

I exist.
There was a time when I didn't.
Observable circumstances led me to come
into my physical being.
That's a fact.
That's a phenomenon.
My arrival was something quite extraordinary - rather impressive.
Being lodged face forward in my mom's cervix, rescued by a quick thinking OBGYN, and surviving peri-natal tremors
was pretty extraordinary.
Phenomenal, I'd say.
I'm pretty remarkable too.
Growing up rather well adjusted thanks to my mom
after my dad committed suicide when I was 2 1/2,
carrying on after a scare with Multiple Sclerosis at 20,
rebounding from anorexia at 32,
forging ahead through the darkness and confusion of Bipolar, diagnosed at 33.
I am forced to love myself when I consider the wonder of it all.
My herstory carries many painfully perceptible and marvelous incidents.
I honour the miracle of my rugged spirit
for

I
AM
A
PHENOMENON

Sunday Scribblings #12 - Wicked

Brrrrrrrriiiiinggggggggggg

Brrrrrrrriiiiinggggggggggg


"Get the phooooone!"

Dara shouted as loudly as her voice could handle.
Part of me hated that bossy you-are-less-than-me voice. Another part wondered, how did she become so bold? And why had I responded by becoming so mousy and passive?

Brrrrrrrriiiiinggggggggggg

Running to the kitchen from the basement, I could feel my breath deepen as I exhaled "Hello?"

I hated answering the phone. It rang so often and it was rarely for me.

There was always an awkward silence while the caller tried to guess whether they were speaking with Dara, or me, her twin sister. While our voices and appearances are the same, the similarities end there. As they say in India we are "same same, but different".

"Uh, Dara?" The inflection always rose dramatically and unaturally.

That's when my heart would drop down into my knees. It reminded me that I didn't quite measure up in the popularity department. I resented her ease at always having a "best friend" when it took so much effort for me to make any kind of friend, let alone a best friend.

I resented that the caller would always let me say, "No, just a minute" without saying, "Oh, hi Sandy, how are you?".

If I could recognize the voice on the other end of the phone, and the caller knew me, why wouldn't they at least be polite and acknowledge that?

This time, though, I wanted to give the caller another chance, by reminding them of my name.

"No, it's Sandy"

"Wicked! I was hoping you were home".
Yeah, it was wicked.
Those words were all it took to make me realize I didn't need to be anyone else but me.

Sunday Scribblings #11 - Hair (unconditional love)

Hair and unconditional love. How could they possibly be related?

I offer you some examples.

1. One day, not so long ago, I was testing edges
I was going through a rebellious 'in your face' phase
Well, not a phase really.
Describing it as a phase doesn't honour the importance of that time.
It was more like a plea to be noticed.
To be recognized.
Most of all to be accepted, no holds barred.

On this particular day (I was 32, I think, and it was probably a Saturday), I was at my mom's place.
Understand, dear reader, that even at the best of times being with family can be implosive.
So that day, in the desparate and needy state I was in, I was more likely than ever to be set off.

I was helping in the kitchen.
Challenging my mom, I asked "what would you think if I dyed my hair blue?"

I so wanted to do this. I also wanted to shave my head and wear unusual clothing.

"Well", she said with a look of disapproval "I wouldn't be happy".

My mom, although not British, said those words with the sterness of a proper English lady.
I looked out the window expecting to see the Thames or Big Ben on the skyline.

My filter turned those words into "I don't accept you if you don't fit into a certain mould."

And then we had tea and scones and pretended nothing was wrong.
That was familiar.
The silent tears salted my tea.
I didn't like it that way.


2. Early one morning, after a run, I cut my hair off.

Big clumps of it.

I had this solid technique.
It involved grabbing a fistful and wedging the scissors between my hand and my scalp. Wherever the scissors landed was where I cut.
As the scissors crunched through chunks, I watched the bathroom sink turn brown. I was annoyed by the random bits that stuck to my sweaty skin.

It was an impulsive and franctically executed haircut. It was one of those self destructive urges that I had quite regularly back then. Anger was seething through me, and this felt like the right way to express it.

Paul was away at the time.
What I remember about his return home was that what I'd done didn't matter one bit.
There was no big reaction, no drama about the drastic makeover.

Just love.
Only love.

Sunday Scribblings - Slippery

Once I'm in
It's awful hard to stop

Like when I go down the slide with Andrew.
I've already started
and it's too late to turn back
I just have to keep going until
I hit the bottom

So yesterday, I was "in"
I couldn't stop
I feel that way today too

It's that midway point when, even if I wanted to
It would be impossible to stop

It smells of "out of control"
And it warns "danger"

It can turn out badly
Because I know all too intimately how to take it too far
How to turn productivity into frenzy
And ideas into steadfast rules

It's slippery alright
Downright dangerous.

a made up holiday, just cause I wanna celebrate sumpfin'

What if I told you that today was International "Complement your mirror" day?

How might you celebrate?

Some suggestions for the festivities:

1. Clean your mirror (I like to use vinegar and water and wipe with newspaper. Your mirror (and the environment) will love you for being so conscious)

2. Gather materials: lipstick, feather boa, groovy tunes, perhaps some incense to snuff out unwanted vibes, and a candle burning nearby.

3. Start up the tunes.

4. Light candle.

5. Decorate.
a. I suggest using that luscious lipstick to begin the complement fiesta. Some messages to consider writing:

"Georgeous"
"Beee-uuuu-teeee-fullll"
"Smashing"

b. use that feather boa to adorn that mirror

6. Face mirror. Stare. Yes stare. Long and hard.

7. Complement away (the lipstick messages should help you get started).

8. BELIEVE those complements.


Happy international "complement your mirror" day!!!!!!

Sunday Scribblings #9 - What's Your Sign?

I am a fish. An aqueous-loving being.
Swimming in the water of my husband.
Mostly it's refreshing to be in my natural habitat.
Sometimes it's not.
Today I feel out of sorts.
But reading my horoscope in NOW magazine
Often reassures me that I'm on the right path.
(I've reproduced it below).


PISCES Feb 19 | Mar 20 Welcome to Part Two of your outlook for the second half of 2007, Pisces. We're checking up on how you're progressing with the long-term tasks you were assigned six months ago. I hope by now you realize that this is your Year of Getting Your Career in Gear. It may or may not be a time when you'll climb to the top of the heap and score fresh privileges and new clout. But it's definitely a time when you can move closer to making a living from doing what you love.