Mischievous

While I was passing a colleague in the hall yesterday, being my usual Southern self, I made eye contact and smiled at him and he said, "What have you done?" To which I replied, "What do you mean?" And he said, "That mischievous smile - you're up to something." Then we erupted into laughter.

Mischievous was my word when I was younger. I used to get myself into all sorts of trouble and then try to hide it (quite unsuccessfully). One example of this is when I took a bottle of black hair dye and poured it all over the yellow shag carpet. When asked rhetorically, "Who did this?" The inevitable answer was, "Not me." It was always me, I have no siblings. My punishment was always to sit on a stool in the corner and think about what I had done. So, it got to the point that when I did something wrong, I would go sit in the corner. When my mother would come over and ask me why I was there, I would say, "I'm sorry Mommy, I didn't mean to do it, and I'll never do it again." Then Mom would have to go around the house and try to figure out what exactly it was that I had done. It is quite possible that there are still some things she may not be aware of.

So, since she reads this blog on a regular basis, I'll go ahead and say, "I'm sorry Mommy, I didn't mean to do it, I'll never do it again." That, and I think most of what I *may* have done is already painted over.

Back to the Basics

"Folks, we need to get back to the basics." My former boss (in NC) used to say this to the sales team to try and motivate us. She also said this so that we would refocus on our goals with respect to the mission of the organization and get ourselves back to the starting point. I always hated it when she said that. It was my equivalent of scratching fingers down the chalk board. I felt like we had to give up all the progress we made - three steps forward, ten steps back.

Today, I was thinking about life in general and as much as certain things may rattle my cage (like something yesterday that I'd rather not discuss) I always have to get myself back to square one - back to the basics. What do I know for a fact? I love my family and friends. Ok, so that's good. I have my health and well-being. Check that one off. I set the bar high for myself and thus far have achieved many of my goals prior to when I expected. Not too shabby. I have everything I have ever wanted (not referring to material possessions so much as just in broad terms). I can't complain. I am, indeed, the luckiest girl alive.

So, I'm back to the basics. I hate it when I say that.

Click, Click

That's the sound of the shutter on my Cannon Rebel camera (on manual focus). To me, it's one of the best sounds in the world.

The other day I passed up watching various athletic events on television and decided to go outside and take advantage of the beautiful day. Seeing so much sunlight was insipiring and uplifting, given that it had been gloomy for an entire week. I decided to dust off my trusty camera and see what I could do. As I was loading the black and white film all of these feelings, thoughts and ideas came rushing back to me. That's when I realized how much I missed my one true artistic passion - photography.

I remember my dad handing me a camera when I was 8 and teaching me the basics. To get more specific knowlege, I went to photography camp (dork!) to learn more about how cameras worked, lighting techniques and how to frame different shots.

Flashing forward (ha, get it? flash?)...I was the photography editor of the newspaper and yearbook in college. I actually miss those days in the darkroom with the staunch smell of chemicals and the dull red light. I miss being out on the football field snapping images with all of the professional photographers from the media. I miss catching the candid photos of students - laughing among friends, talking with professors and fountain hopping. There were so many memorable experiences, all of which I captured on film and all of which are preserved in the records of the school. I guess it was my way of leaving a little legacy, so a piece of me will always be there. And to this day, I still feel that photographically documenting a moment in time is probably one of the greatest gifts we can give future generations.

Anyway, it felt really good to just get out there and start taking random pictures again. I always tend to see things differently from behind the lens. Of my cherished hobby, I did reach the conclusion now that I've had it, lost it, and gotten it back - I most certainly don't intend to lose it again.

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As a side note (and many of you already know this), I always wanted to be a lightning photographer. I always thought it would be exhilerating to chase down a storm and take pictures of lightning striking stuff, but then it occurred to me that the lightning could actually strike ME, and that's not so good.

Pink...

is the new corporate.

I shall elaborate. I was in Target shopping the other day and passed the toy section - it's still as it was when I was a child, boy toys and girl toys. Boys were defined in blue, girls in pink. Boys had legos and girls had barbies. It was all so ridiculous, given that toys shouldn't be gender sterotyped. Neither should jobs.

This morning I was in a meeting with upper-level executives. I was looking at the people sitting around the table and quite proud of the organization for which I work. There were a pretty even number of guys and girls. (More surprisingly, there was quite a diversity of people at the table). What struck me as fascinating is that the people who are running the show up there are all women who have men working for them. I was thinking about how dynamics and paradigms shift constantly in the world. Granted, this organization was never a "good old boy" organization like I've seen so many times in other places - namely the South - but it made me wonder...when did this all happen? Not that I'm complaining as this bodes quite well for me, but looking back historically, men have usually held many of these upper-level positions. Of course, a title is just a title - you can be the SVP of Crap and you're still an SVP, but the women that I was observing this morning, and who I've engaged in conversation with many times, weren't bull shitting around. They know their stuff, they do their work and they have this "never say die" attitude. In the end, I shouldn't be surprised by any of it since the American branch of the organization was founded by one woman's vision. It's empowering and awe-inspiring at the same time to see these amazing women making such a huge impact on the organization and ultimately on the entire world.

I can't wait to play with the legos.

Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one.

Your table is now ready.

I was sipping on some major hatorade last night. haha. After a nice rest, a good workout, some of Mom and Dad's amazing Konkani food and of course, some chocolate, I have gained perspective.

There's one piece of advice that I got from Mom which certainly rings true. It goes, "You can't expect everyone to like you." Such a wise woman. I think that's a part of my problem. I actually WANT everyone to like me. I have no clue why. As an adult, I should understand that personalities clash, that people function differently and not everyone is going to like my style. Where does the acceptance of all of this come in?

On to better topics, I had a splendidly wonderful Labor Day weekend. I got to spend some quality time with friends and family that I don't get to see that often. I witnessed a beautiful wedding that was done both Hindu style and Civil Ceremony style. We celebrated Dad's birthday. We ate more food than possibly imaginable. I got some major knitting done on this scarf that I'm trying to finish. The laundry is finished, the apartment is super clean and the closets are organized. All in all, I'd say it was productive and yet enjoyable. Three day weekends totally agree with me.

Nice Girls Always Finish...

dead last. It’s true. Or this is what I’m starting to find, anyway.

I am now officially jealous of my friends who are a) in serious relationships b) engaged or c) already married. I can’t believe I harbor this jealousy. I was always just happy for them, which I am still, but I find myself sometimes wishing I was in their shoes instead of mine – you know my shoes – the heels that pinch the feeling out of my toes. I believe this jealousy is there because they don’t have to go (or will never have to go) through all of these ridiculous relationship games– they are done – done, done, done - finished.

And here’s the thing, you can find someone interesting, and actually want to get to know them better, not in an I_want_to_marry_you sort of way, but maybe just a “hey, let’s go out and grab a bite and talk” sort of way. When did going out to dinner translate into getting married? I wonder. Dinner isn’t a long-term commitment. It’s MAYBE a few hours. MAYBE.

What’s really scary is from my various experiences with these matters is that I’m able to spot the flaky ones – you know, the one’s that will punk out. And I can actually do this within just a few short conversations. Maybe this ability to read others is a good quality to have. For the record, this intuition is a totally recent thing – wasn’t even there a few months ago. I guess I should use this new power to help myself avoid situations that could be less-than-stellar i.e. “Let’s just be friends.” Utter these words and it will END any semblance of a friendship that could have ever existed.

There’s got to be a quota for how many disappointments a heart can take and I think I’m rapidly starting to exceed mine. The eternal optimist that hangs out on my right shoulder says to keep the faith - not all situations will be bad. The pessimist, the one that sits on the left shoulder, has relegated me to a life of singledom which will just have to do, because it would be much easier than dealing with some of the situations I’ve been through as of late. I hope the eternal optimist wins.
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I feel like a gerbil on an exercise wheel. I keep spinning but I’m not actually GOING anywhere.

End rant.