Random Observations Of People And The World

I promised early on, that I would be a polite parent. Currently, I am teaching the children of several celebrated educators. Will they be polite and gift their children's progress to my wisdom??? There have been many many conversations not had... what do you remember?

Have you ever wished your parent HAD SAID or NOT SAID something to your teacher?

HELP!!! Share!!!!!!!!

Love, Peace, and Cheers ~ Be safe...

Noon

I found that in the course of my studies in the UK, people were quite apprehensive in using colours. The cabs were always black and the majority of the pedestrians were always wearing elegant earth tone colours (in my university area anyway). Even during the summer months, a time to loosen up and play with colours, I only get to see them wear white. Plus, they're quite stingy with their ice cubes.

But now, I found myself living in a country, where it is acceptable to mix yellow and purple, red and green, etc. Often times, I see people walking in the streets wearing orange shirts, pink pants and yellow shoes. A very colourful country if you ask me. Even their cabs are quite colourful-it is not unusual to see purple and bright pink cabs roving around the streets of Bangkok. As soon as you walk down the street, your senses get automatically assaulted with a myriad of mishmash colours that are not necessarily complementary. Plus, they're very generous with their ice cubes.

I know a polar bear who lives in Santa Monica. Unlike polar bears that you might see in a zoo or in the North Pole, this one isn't furry. And doesn't eat people (or any other land animals). But she likes to growl. And claw at the air like polar bears sometimes do. Especially when she's stuck in traffic and unable to pee!

"Growl," she says to Gibbon, who's stuck in traffic with her. "I have to pee and it's all your fault!" Of course, it's not his fault. If he tried to stop her from drinking gallons of water at a sitting, she'd eat him. And deep inside, she knows this. But she doesn't care.

"I like to growl," she tells Gibbon. "Especially raw, primitive, cathartic, growls. Because when I don't growl, other animals forget that I'm even a polar bear." Which isn't too far fetched. Lately, Gibbon has had his doubts too!

*****

A few days ago, Gibbon recorded a hypothesis in his notebook: "I think she's more fowl than growl!" He tested his hypothesis by observing her in different situations. And today, even after hearing her growl in traffic, he's more sure than ever that she's not a polar bear.

"The facts are overwhelming," he tells her, as they finally approach a freeway exit. "You're a duck!" "Growl," she replies, while adjusting her sitting position to alleviate her near-bursting bladder.

He removes a notebook from his briefcase, ruffles through the pages, and settles on a page with circles, arrows, and big capital letters. He reads: "When you aren't growling, you like to sip cocktails and swish your little webbed feet back and forth in various aqua settings..."

*****

"But that's only because..." Gibbon shakes his head and continues. "When you aren't growling or sipping cocktails, you like to quack..." Polar Bear claws at the air. "And when you aren't doing any of that, you like to salsa dance..."

"But salsa dancing doesn't make me a duck!" Gibbon laughs. "I beg to differ," he says. "When you dance, you run around in circles like... like... a duck out of water! I hate to break it to you, but you're a duck. A duck! A fowl who likes to growl!"

Polar Bear looks at Gibbon. And knows that she could eat him if she wanted to. But she doesn't eat him. Instead, she leans over and plants a kiss on his forehead. "Growl," she whispers. But all he hears is a quack!

Since I was thirteen, I haven't wanted to celebrate my birthday, or even let others know that it existed. This aversion was mostly because I didn't feel that I deserved to be celebrated, and because I wondered if those who expressed a desire to celebrate weren't just doing it because they feel obliged.

This year, in the midst of a long, crazy, "spiritual" journey, I decided to put a new twist on my birthday. Instead of avoiding it and not telling others about it, I turned the tables, let people know, and focused my birthday energies on making the world better!

It's not what I did that's important. It's the way I felt when I learned -- as I've learned so often lately -- that when I focus on what I can give rather than on how much I can receive, happiness is inevitable!

It's now my belief that there's no greater birthday gift than the intrinsic knowledge that this day, this month, this year, we've helped to make others' lives and the world a little bit better!

Do you ever notice that when you're talking to different people, you talk slightly differently with each one? Or maybe with a certain group, it's different from the next.

Do you ever notice that you've picked up some of their speaking habits, inflections, pet phrases?

At first, I thought it was high school again when I was accused of trying to be someone else, because I was unconsciously emulating my (I thought then) closest friend.

Then I realized what I think is a lovely* thing: I have a bit of every one in me and every one has a bit of me.

I guess, then, that when we find our bits that match, we use those bits to communicate. Only usually, the only way to find it is take cues from the other person.

I don't normally go around watching featured vids on YouTube, but this one caught my eye. Hilarious!



Anyways. I think I actually read a cartoon about this... around 3 years ago, xD. Boy am I glad this woman was slow on the uptake.

On the plane from Mumbai to Cochin I flicked through the airline magazines. To my surprise I found an article about happiness and the authors view on how much we miss out on by chasing things in life.

The author is a well-known writer and business woman in India. Unfortunately I never wrote down her name. Apologies for that.

I made notes of her list, things that are important to her, important to remember and be aware of, that will help her keep Happiness in her life. A list I found inspiring. It doesn't have to be more complicated...

1) Be selfish
2) Learn to let go
3) Teach yourself to trust
4) Express gratitude
5) Slow down
6) Touch & go
7) Listen with your heart
8) Confide
9) Shut up!
10) Have a heart
11) Stop being a control freak
12) Count
13) Compliment people
14) Music
15) Cry your eyes out
16) Extend help
17) Grow a garden
18) Money madness
19) Eat, drink and be merry
20) Learn to lose
21) Sleep
22) Dance
23) Embrase life
24) DAAN = serve the less fortunate
25) Just Do It!

During my stay in the US the week before last, I noticed for the first time that the Americans use "excuse me" to apologise for being in the way or when needing to squeeze by in a narrow aisle in the supermarket...not that there are that many narrow aisles, come to think of it... Anyway, being a foreigner and not being used to hearing that expression, and not thinking about language and use of words, I found it different.

I'm not saying it hasn't happened, but I have trouble remembering hearing that expression when trying to catch somebody's attention, in any of the American films I have watched over the years. In Sweden, all foreign films have subtitles, which means that we get to learn everything the english language has to offer from an early age. What stuck was "oy!", "hey, motherf***er!", "asshole!"... :) I'm exagerating, but you get the drift. I'm just not used to hearing the expression "excuse me" very often. :)

The English say "sorry" a lot and I have caught on to that living in this country. In my experience, in a simplified world, they say "sorry" in the situations where the Americans would say "excuse me". The word is simple enough, and in my opinion, does the job. But, my curiosity got the better of me and I checked the meaning of the words "sorry" and "excuse" to better understand the difference, if there is one.

SORRY
1 : feeling sorrow, regret, or penitence
2 : mournful sad
3 : inspiring sorrow, pity, scorn, or ridicule : pitiful

EXCUSE
1 a: to make apology for b: to try to remove blame from
2: to forgive entirely or disregard as of trivial import : regard as excusable
3 a: to grant exemption or release to b: to allow to leave
4: to serve as excuse for : justify

So, where am I going with this one. Nowhere, really. :) I just find it interesting, and I learned something new today, which is always a good thing! :)

It wasn't until after she left that I realized she was actually gone. I had been looking at her for quiet a while as she was approaching the auto stand. She didn't seem to care that I was. And I didn't care even if she did.

"Mind sharing the ride and save the planet from some pollution?" is what I had wanted to say, looking straight into her eyes.

"Mind sharing the ride and save some moolah?" is what I ended up saying instead.

She thought for a moment. Men in Delhi don't have a good reputation. I guess I looked harmless enough for her to nod in affirmative. She made some space and I sat inside the auto.

"Vivek."

"Ayesha."

"?"

"Ayesha!"

Silence.

"Awkward silence? Or is it that I am not supposed to get to know you?" would not have been an optimum way to break this silence. I let it prevail.

She opened something to eat. Didn't offer. "Don't you think you should offer some?" I thought to myself but didn't utter.
I was oddly glad. Thats the kind of bad manners I am famous for.

"I am sorry for barging in like this. But you look deliciously pretty and I just wanted to be around you a little bit longer" I only thought to myself again. It would be nice to say this with that innocently charming nonchalant attitude of mine, and then turn the other way without giving her a chance to respond. But I didn't feel like saying a word.

Silence.

Probably because it was getting prettier, the silence. I was liking it. She, most probably was indifferent to it. Not giving it, or me, any thought.
I would love to wonder that she wanted me to break the silence. To say something that created a spark.
I think the twinkle in my eyes is usually enough. Narcissist. No words spoken.

I could see her through the mirror. The usual beautiful things that can happen to girls on chilly nights. Her hair felt free to gently brush across her face and the lights were doing little tricks to make her look prettier. She looked unaware of herself. Possibly the way I looked unaware of myself. I soon realized my hair too were feeling free to cover my eyes. The auto guy was fast. Enough wind was being rumbled up for me to feel cold and for her to look beautiful.

I wanted to tell her that I could have said nicer things to make her feel nice, but somehow I didn't feel like saying anything tonight, and that it didn't matter if she didn't speak much either. The silence was nicer and I would rather quietly see how the lights were doing little tricks to make her look prettier. I wanted to share things with her, and "that moment" seemed like the best thing to share.

I wanted to let her know that I was excited to see her, to be with her and it really didn't matter if all this didn't matter to her. And if she ever met me again, I would tell her how beautiful I thought she was, and how wonderful it would be to know how beautiful she actually is.

But for now, it was just the moment, and it was many.

I've tried to write this sentence twelve times. But I now have twelve crumbled sheets of paper in my waste basket. Because no words seem able to convey what I want to convey. Which is the way I feel about you. But I have just four sheets of paper left. So like it or not... I'll keep writing!

There are fireworks in my belly. Don't worry, I don't mean real fireworks. Metaphorical fireworks! And they're shooting up through my chest and creating an exploding sensation in my throat. It's like nothing I've ever felt. But I'm pretty sure that I like it!

I think, well I know, that the fireworks are exploding because of what we did last night. It was crazy and so unexpected. We'd only met once before. And even though I was so attracted to your dark eyes, angular cheekbones, and hourglass figure... you had a boyfriend. And I had to be respectful of that.

*****

But that was a year ago, which was the last time I'd visited Cleveland. And a lot can change in a year! Even though you haven't. You're just as beautiful as I remember. Which is great because I can now let myself think about you in a way that I wouldn't let myself think a year ago.

Thank goodness for that! Because if I didn't let myself think like this, then I probably wouldn't have let Stephanie arrange for us to kiss on the park bench at nine o'clock. And I wouldn't have been so afraid to kiss you for forty-five minutes after that. Until I did kiss you, and you said, "Finally!"

Perhaps you're wondering, now, what thoughts I wouldn't let myself think. And it's not anything that I must keep secret from you. I wouldn't let myself think, a year ago, that you are a girl who I can love. Not just for a moment or a night. But forever.

*****

Which is crazy, I know. Except that there are some thoughts we should trust. Like that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. That ice cream stays cold in the freezer. And that when you look into the eyes of a girl, you can sometimes tell. If you know what I mean. You can just tell.

And I guess it helps that you told me that you love me last night. Which was unexpected but not unappreciated. Because love is one of those thoughts. And feelings. And touch sensations. Even though my father argues that "love is just a function of time and experience".

But I think that's a bad argument. Because what if you and I have two days left in this world? Does that mean that we'd be incapable of love because we aren't old or experienced enough? That's crazy and just plain adolescent!

******

I'm sixteen and you're seventeen, but together we're ageless. I knew this when I walked you home this morning. And held your hand. And realized that somewhere two planets were colliding. And war was raging. And someone was eating my favorite ice cream. And I didn't even care. Because my hand was touching yours.

And would continue touching your hand until the end of time. Which of course wasn't really the end of time. Because we kissed at your doorstep. And you said I love you. And I said I love you. And our hands stopped touching. So that you could step inside. And close the door. Slowly. Until I saw just your shadow. Still peeking.

I haven't slept since. But I did speak to my father. And he said that I'm still young. And that it'll be years before I begin to "grasp the nuanced firestorm that is love." And he also promised that you're just one of many. Which I refuse to believe.

*****

Because though I'm new to this whole love thing, I'm not entirely new. You're the first girl I've kissed in high school, but you aren't my first kiss. I kissed another girl in eighth grade. And thought I loved her too. And I remember a lot of lessons from that relationship. Even though it only lasted two weeks.

And I know that you've kissed a lot of boys, and even had sex with two of them. So I'm sure that you'll bring so much relevant experience to the table. And you can just teach me whatever I need to know. Love may be a firestorm... but I don't see how it can burn me. Not when I feel like this.

So here's a crazy idea. I'll skip my senior year of high school and apply to whatever colleges you apply to. That way, we can go to college at the same time and be together forever. It's not a big deal for me. I've been living alone for over a year now, and there's nothing left for me in Los Angeles. It's just a big lonely city.

*****

I can't wait to meet you at the park bench again tonight. Hopefully it will be as wonderful as last night. I guess we'll see.

Love,
Danny