Starbucks Sellout

That is what I am, sadly.
I, who don't drink coffee (really intense, unpleasant smell and taste),
Who for years mocked the conglomerate corporation.
Over-priced, mediocre stuff, I would sniff impatiently.
Their super-pretentious names for drinks, and their grandiose and confusing sizes.
"Tall, Grande, Venti" - Huh??!!
Made me roll my eyes n mock some more.
Don't like their hot chocolate, their coffees obviously hold no appeal.

Given their proliferation, especially here in California,
I suppose it was inevitable that I would eventually fold.
There are three different Starbucks on campus alone!
So, sure it began with my getting the occasional Tazo tea there,
Or a half-price sandwich in the last hour of their being open,
As I am on break from one of my three hour long night classes.
Then, it slowly escalated.

Last winter, I got a $25 Starbucks giftcard for Xmas.
So I found myself slowly using it up, buying a box of tea, a chocolate cupcake.
On a cold (ish) day-this is Southern California, after all!
I would get their Hot Caramel Apple Spice-just the ticket.
Then a friend recently introduced me to the joys
Of Starbucks' Chai Lattes.
Uh-oh!
Not a fan of them hot, but pour it on ice, and I'm in heaven.
A caffeine and sugar laced high...a sensory pleasure for my taste buds,
And just what I need as a pick-me-up on a hot and/or sluggish-brain day.

On vacation last week, I finally realized-I no longer am a casual Starbucks-er.
I have now ventured into the land of the addicted!
Okay-so the itch is not that bad-I don't need daily hookups or, god forbid, multiple daily iced chai lattes.
Yet, at least a couple (okay, so its more like three) times a week,
I now find myself giving in to the hankering.
Not just getting one as I walk past a Starbucks (that is auto-suggestion, after all).
But actually going in search of the nearest Starbucks,
Like starting my afternoon visitation of old haunts in Longmeadow at the Longmeadow Shops Starbucks.
And worst of all--ah its painful to even admit.
I have the language down pat.

No more staring in puzzlement at the board,
Squinting myopically as I attempted to find a non-coffee laced drink,
When I was feeling more adventurous than just ordering Earl Grey Tea (my standard).

On Saturday,
As I waited for my glasses to get fixed in La Jolla,
The craving for an Iced Chai hit, and off I went,
To the Vons Supermarket, knowing that would be the closest Starbucks spot.
I circled the lot three times
Until I finally managed to grab a spot as someone pulled out.
Walking confidently up to the Starbucks counter, without even a moment's hesitation,
I asked for my fix: "Grande Iced Chai Latte, Light Ice, please."
And that, gals 'n' boys,
Was when I realized that I was a Starbucks Sellout!

PS: Dammit, and now I want one-no, its midnight and I am NOT giving in. But tomorrow is, as they say, another day ;-)

Of Fears and the Future

I am feeling off balance, the last couple days.
There are a number of reasons, I know this.
For one, I anxiously await my thesis chair's response.
I hope she agrees-I really want to work on the topic I chose.
Yet I know that once she gives me her approval,
I have two months to get things done.
I thought I had until November, but she wants it done by September.
A very tall order, but something I need to do.
So there is the fear of failing, not getting it done on time, etc.

This will signify the end of a journey as well.
That is part of the angst...
My MA will be complete. Thesis done, I will be ready to graduate in December.
What comes after is both exciting and really scary.
I will have to leave the cocoon I have made for myself here.
I will have to go back to my home country.
A place I have not lived in since I was 17,
Nor visited in 7 years.

I am told a lot has changed, that I will be pleasantly surprised.
That opportunities abound for someone like me.
Yet I distinctly remember how much I wanted to leave.
I never felt like I fit it, I was always an oddity.
Now, after eleven plus years away, how can I possibly hope to assimilate?
I have gotten used to my independence, my privacy, my invisibility.
All things I will lose the moment I am back on home turf.

Coming to college in a new country was an adventure at 18.
Returning to my homeland at 29 feels less so.
I know I cannot live with my parents long-term.
I will need to find a place to live, a job, re-introduce myself socially.
I know I will have the support of my parents and friends.
Yet, at the end of the day it will be my burden to bear.
My issues and culture shock that no one else will quite get.
My appearance, mannerisms, language, viewpoint...
Will all place me as the "other,"
More so than when I was growing up and lived there.
The eleven years away will have increased, not decreased, my alien-ness.

My parents are middle-aged now, and I want to be nearer them.
It doesn't feel right that I have not seen them in four years.
Yet I know we will drive each other crazy.
That I will become a snarling, emotional, bitchy mess around them.
But I also need to see them, be closer to them.

Mentally, I had been placating myself with the idea that it will be a vacation.
Six months of hanging out with friends, traveling around the country, being free,
Of responsibility and real worries. A break such as I have not had in...11 years!
I figured I would drag my best friend around with me...come to Singapore, come to Rajasthan, lets play and catch up, I would say, and she would agree, the only one of my acquaintance with the ability, or indeed the only person I could imagine,
As companion for such adventures.

Yet her announcement that she is getting married,
Made me realize that it is a foolish, unrealistic dream I am harboring.
She is a dear, but she will no longer be fancy-free,
a willing fellow adventurer for madcap schemes.
She will, rather, be someone's wife. He will have priority for her, as well he should!

And worst of all-she will get married and I won't be there...
in all the years away,
despite all the events and weddings I have missed,
Hers is the one that I always expected to be there for.
It never occurred to me that I would not be able.
The only one at which my absence will hurt me deeply.
The other times, it felt like I was missing out on fun and memories.
This time, its like forgoing a part of my life.
After all, she is the sister I never had.

I am excited and thrilled that she has found that person-the one she cannot live without, 'cause as we always said: marry someone because you cannot live without him, not because you can live with him.
In the years since I last saw her, she has matured and grown into a woman I admire and adore.
She surprises me with her depth and strength,
Of mind and character.
I want her to have every happiness, she deserves nothing less.
She has lived a charmed life, one I hope lasts always.

I can only hope that some day I will be similarly lucky,
Will find someone with whom I will want to share my life.
Not sure it will happen-the older I get the more I realize
That perhaps that is not the destination for me.
I have become a hermit of sorts, not dabbling in love/romance.
Prior experiences have made me wary-I have been hurt too many times.
But I will continue to hold on to hope.
After all, I consider myself an optimist...

I'll plan for things going right in the next year,
On my not failing.
I will get my thesis done.
I will find my place in my birth country.
I will be able to get acceptance to a Phd program I want.
I will get a visa to come back here.
And finally, everything will work out.
I believe, I believe...
In the power of positive thinking.
I better, or else I may never recover
From the despair and fears,
Of loneliness, failure, unhappiness...

Great Expectations?

I learned very early in life not to expect what I am trying to get - but only hope to get it, and do everything in my power to do so. Unfortunately, I have not been able to apply the same principle to my relationships. The first time around, I expected nothing, but made the mistake of not trying to get what I wanted either, and ended up giving a lot more than I got. It was passive acceptance, and I was grateful for every little joy. Not a bad thing in itself, until you realise that not trying to get what you want just makes the other person take you for granted. Not to mention that *just giving* is emotionally draining.

In the last one it was kind of the opposite - I expected a lot, yet did nothing to try and get it. Nor did I give anything I wasn't getting. I wouldn't say I was the only one with expectations in the relationship, or even the one with more expectations. But it doesn't matter. The point is, to get something you have to give something first, and I failed to do that.

Now, I know this is sounding contradictory. But it's not. All I'm saying is - give your best, but don't expect anything in return; try getting what you want, but don't expect it. And when you do get it, appreciate it. What you do when you don't depends on how critical it is to your happiness. And this is where the lack of expectation becomes most important - because when you expect too much, even getting more than enough can look like way too little.

Thank you M. Snail

Each week, on hump day, otherwise known as Wednesday,
I have a babysitting gig.
I endeavor to entertain a three year old while his mother is in class.
I love kids, I am a good babysitter, and I know this little one quite well (I have been watching him since soon after his first birthday).
Yet, attempting to keep him entertained, not screaming or being disruptive,
And often having to run behind him ad nauseum make me dread Wednesday evenings.
Its not easy, babysitting on campus, rain or shine, light or dark.
The end of daylight savings certainly helped save my sanity.
But today, I had help from a most unexpected quarter.
A little snail, minding its own business, curled into its shell.
My ever observant charge noticed the creature on the stairs.
What was potentially a few minutes entertainment turned into an hour and a half of pleasurable encounter with Monsieur/Madame Escargot.
Good thing I am not squeamish, and have my own inner child fueled fascination with snails.
I was happy to pick the reclusive creature off the corner of the steps
Where it had attached itself,
And place it gently in a place where the tyke and I could prod it into action,
Observe its captivating coiling and uncoiling of itself from its shell,
Tiny wispy tentacles poking out first, followed by the rest of its head,
And finally, its thick tail.
My little buddy and I both enjoyed the show, and if I had not finally
taken mercy on the creature and let it makes its unhurried way into the
bushes without further interruption, I think the amusement would have
lasted longer still.
So once again,
Thank you Mr./Ms. Snail for coming to this stressed babysitter's rescue...

Music, Memories, Melancholy

I have spent the better part of the last two hours online.
Not doing anything terribly useful.
But rather, YouTube has provided me
With songs and sights
From old Hindi movies.
"Classics" most of them get called.
I don't quite know what it is about hearing those old songs and seeing
the picturizations, that is making me so sad.
I definitely go through bouts of missing my homeland.
And frivolous as it sounds, my strongest ties seem to come to the surface via music.
Especially the songs from Bollywood movies of the 1950s and 1960s.
I am twenty eight years old-these songs are waaay before my time.
But they are the ones that reel me in.
Mukesh, Kishore, Rafi, Lata, Geeta Dutt, Shamshad Begam...
Those are the voices that stay in my head..
Those songs are unbeatable and haunting.
Some happy and playful, others sad.
One and all bring tears to my eyes.
Seeing Dev Anand chasing Shakila or chastising Sadhana in a song,
Watching Nargis and Raj Kapoor.
Johnny Walker even.
Many others, unknown or forgotten now.
They all make me cry.
And I wonder why?
Is it because they are just that strong link to my childhood?
Songs heard in the background when my mother played them?
Or memories of movies she and I saw?
And we saw some really obscure ones, I'll admit!
Those times spent in movie watching and song listening/singing,
Are some of my fondest memories.
Maybe its just hearing those melodies and voices?
Those lyrics full of dard (hurt is the literal translation, but it does not come across in English) or of such intense romanticism (there is no way to explain it in English-they would just be corny).
Having gone through the songs from movies like CID, Asli Naqli, Aag.
One particular song, Chandan Sa Badan, from Saraswati Chandra has
particular meaning for me.
I do expect to feel a pang and maybe even cry when I hear it.
It has the most amazing lyrics, and is sexy and suggestive in a way
that should be admired for a song so old and in a time of strong censorship.
Things are merely alluded to, as with many other songs from that era.
But its the fact that someone once told me that was the song he thought of me with,
That makes me sad when I listen to it now.
"Tun bhi sundar, Mun bhi sundar,"
"Tu sundarita ki muurath hai."
Wow, that I was ever thus elevated!
I guess my love and emotionality regarding the oldies also has to do with my own (very hidden) romantic streak.
I know love is not like the movies, and definitely not like these old Hindi songs.
But those lyrics still get me.
If someone felt about me the way those songs say, I think I'd die happy.
But I know its unlikely and highly implausible.
And perhaps, that, is why I cry...

From Excitement to Disappointment

I tend to get excited when I meet someone interesting. Male or female, no matter.
Someone who I am impressed by and whose intellect and conversation are both scintillating and enervating to me.

Yet oftentimes, one is disappointed and early impressions fall on the wayside.
This happened to me recently, forcefully reminding me that it is not the first time either. Its something I have had play out over the years. Apparently, despite the experience, I am always pleasantly surprised and promptly forgetful of previous disappointments. I am glad of it, for I know I am jaded in many ways. So its nice to know that I have hope and can be optimistic at times!

This feeling is of course especially true when I come across a man I find intelligent, interesting, a good conversationalist, sharing interests and ideas similar to my own. Someone I am attracted to on a level that has nothing to do with looks or sex appeal or even flirtation. That truly is an exciting and rare occurrence! Perhaps my standards are high. Perhaps I am difficult to please and have unrealistic expectations. I think not, but perhaps it is so.

But it is not totally hopeless. I have met guys who managed to wow me. I remember now the handful or so times it has happened in the last five years. And honestly, the single time it has happened in the recent past. And when this most recent man fell from grace, I recalled some of the criteria I had for establishing previous winners, as it were. I realize yet again, how important it is to observe someone with their friends and to view their actions and interactions with the world in general.

To see how they behave and interact with older and younger people; those they perceive their equals, subordinates, or superiors; whether they are comfortable with those outside their own race/ethnicity, and whether those factors at all color their interactions. Do they become someone different when it is a fellow countryman versus an "other?" Do they begin to show signs of needing to impress the other, use cool language, be uppity? Can they handle being challenged when around their male counterparts? Do they treat waiters and service staff courteously and well? Do they seem comfortable in new situations or places where they are in the minority? A lot of questions, not all of which have to be answered satisfactorily, or even answered at all! But certainly a combination of such factors play. At least for me they do.

I will never forget how this man I know, on meeting my landlord who had just lost his mother, went up to him, shook his hand and offered his condolences. This, on their second, very casual meeting. It touched me deeply, and made me respect and admire my friend all the more. Or another man, who despite being the newbie and only outsider in our group, totally fit in and was able to make himself comfortable and behave appropriately with all. Me the potential girlfriend, my friends, my bosses, my professors...one and all, he made a good impression. One that lingered in me as well. I mention these now not because I am with either of these men, or even that they are paragons of greatness and etiquette.

I talk of things past in relation to the recent such man I met. First meeting, I thought him intelligent and witty and a mature individual. Second meeting confirmed it and some exchanged wordplay increased my appreciation. I almost felt a crush coming on, come to think of it. Third meeting-I was no longer so sure. I saw the show-off side, the competitive, narcissistic, oneupmanship side. A side I didn't particularly care for. The fourth meeting increased my discomfort. And then on our fifth meeting, I saw an aspect that turned me off. A cool dude, played for the "other." Not to mention a caveman response where I was expecting discussion. Disappointing, to say the least.

But then, a necessary reminder. A reminder about my own tendency to be eagerly pleased and awed by someone with intellectual capability and apparent likemindedness. A lesson worthy of repetition and relearning. I AM decided in my likes and wants. They are not about looks or age or whatever. They are, rather, about the intricacies and little things that can make or mar someone in my book. A book no one cares about but me, but hey its my book and I get to fill the pages any way I want, or more accurately, need. I live in my head a lot, and my brain generally beats out my heart. This too has played out in years and relationships of yore. So I will again remind myself of the importance of watching a man in action and seeing how he does in my eyes. Perhaps this is why I am single?! If it is, rather so than with someone who doesn't have it, even if the "it" is only in my head...

Is Prime Time Television A Lost Cause?


I love my television shows. I tend not to think of the tv as the idiot box, nor do I call my viewing habit a guilty pleasure. Yet, I am well aware that what is on offer, especially on a college student budget of non-cable, is well, not great. However, there are shows that give me hope. Hope for prime time television on the big three (ABC, NBC, CBS).

Desperate Housewives, which I cannot help watching, has gone down a bizarre path. Grey’s Anatomy, once favorite, has also gone from witty and sexy to plain painful. Sure, we still get gems like on a recent episode where a new female surgeon rechristens the two hunks known as McDreamy and McSteamy into “pretty and prettier.” Sadly, its one of few from what started out as a self-aware, sarcastic, and groundbreaking show. Instead we are given weekly sexcapades.

Grey's sister show, spinoff Private Practice shows us how the pretty people in LA live. It does manage to tug at the ocassional emotional heartstring, while we watch the successful, beautiful doctors at the practice deal with work and love. But seriously, I am supposed to feel sorry for these guys n gals? I don't think so! Still I keep watching, and the last few weeks have produced some familiar faces as guest stars. Two beloved Gilmore Girls faces (Lane and Christopher) showed up. Will Lorelai or Rory be next? Not likely but I can hope! I miss my Gilmore Girls fix. Its departure at the end of last season means I don't have a reason to watch the CW anymore. I mean I watch Smallville once in a while, but its not one of *my* shows. And not being able to afford the cost of cable and thus without the comfort of ABC Family, I don't get my daily dose of a Gilmore Girls rerun. Sad.

One of the most highly hyped shows of the current season, Pushing Daisies, has me watching and coming back for more each week in a sort of deer caught in the headlights stupor. I am not sure why its getting the attention and rave reviews it has thus far garnered. Lemony Snicket for television; cutesy rather than cute. Worse still, CBS’s Cane registers nothing more than a sigh and “why??!!” from me.

Yet, there are moments of hope and glory. For one, despite its weirdness and hyperactivity, Boston Legal still does it for me: James Spader as Alan Shore and the rhetoric he delivers. The show readily dishes up weekly discussions on current political issues that need to be in the spotlight. Brothers and Sisters in its second season now, has become a pure joy to watch. It simultaneously addresses drug addiction, new baby woes, women’s body issues, being gay, the battle between motherhood/family and working, single parenting, abortion/unwed mothers as well as the war in Iraq in a manner that evokes laughter and creates good drama, while still being realistic, respectful, and consequential. It certainly has my vote for best of season.

Television is dead, long live television…