Calcutta's Coldest
Calcutta saw its coldest Dec 23 in 8 years yesterday: recorded 55F
I do not want to go back to single-digit-Fahrenheit, butt-freezing weather of white knuckles, blue earlobes and numb chin.
Twenty seven Christmas eves
Christmas used to be real family time--way more than festivals that are fastidiously mine, via nativity;--festivals, I miss and crave to be with family on. But really Christmas always meant special Ma-and-me time without unwanted intermissions-- like a bunch of visiting relatives or to-do rituals that clouded quality time. It used to be about the prettiest ornaments, school concerts, my favorite tree in our balcony, the mica glitter that stuck to my sweaty nose even when decorating was over. It was true surprise at getting gifts, devout faith in Santa Clause, it was all about magical times, almost as magical as my Birthdays...ah Bandel.
Four years down, Calcutta was different, I no longer had the niche; but I had more than a few, too eager to make me happy. I missed my trees, my extensive time with Ma and most of all my space. But those were the first years of buying gifts, finding the joy in giving. It was discovering New Market and Calcutta decking up for the holidays. It was a part of falling in love with a city that would make me love cities for a long time to come.
I don't know when it became about just a holiday so crowded picnic-getaways; just another evening and day ritual, that I have to do. The same reason, in spite of being a stickler to rule, I don't enjoy most of my native festivities any more, too much compulsion without explanations or logic.
A part of me wonders what the hype is about white Christmas, as much as I hate snow. The other part reminds me of a time when I would not take anything dispel the Mother-Daughter time.
More recently, Christmas, sadly, is best spent in thin air, a day I utilize flying, because of the cheapest rates. And while I enjoy the chime of bargain-deals in my head, I cant help but think how unfortunate is she, who is nowhere on Christmas day, who is not expected or welcome anywhere?
When did Christmas become a regular Sunday? An unfortunate long weekend, when really no sense traveling because it is so cold. I read no traveling as no celebrating. I have forgotten how to celebrate in the warmth of my own family room, the mind wanders for answers in the outside world, whereas maybe happiness is tucked somewhere under a cushion and a throw on a couch. Maybe if I had a home where I belonged more than the other 3, I would know how to make magic from cookies and cocoa, mash potatoes and gravy, and silver, blue, green and red ornaments; maybe I would know how to go back to 1989 again.
Kukee and Us
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Exhibitions & Awards (in the USA)
Photography
1. International Mosaic: November 2006
International Programs’ Photo Contest held in honor of International Education Week: Artistry
2. State College Photo Club : Online Photo Contest Theme-"Symmetry" September 2008
3rd Place Winner
3. State College Photo Club : Online Photo Contest Theme-"City Life" - October 2008
3rd Place Winner
4. National Geographic Photography: October 2008
India Photo Map, 'Oh! Calcutta'
5. Art Alliance of Central Pennsylvania : Holiday Exhibit and Sale Nov/Dec 2008
Multiple sculptures and photograph prints
6. Guide to Shenandoah National Park: 2010 Guide
Photograph (Rockytop Overlook)
7. State College Photo Club : Online Photo Contest Theme-"Solitude" February 2010
3rd Place Winner
Art/ Craft
3. Wilcox Winery, State College, PA : Dec 2008
Lamps and sculptures (Wine)
4. Elkcreek Cafe + Aleworks, Millheim, PA : March 2009
Paintings and photograph prints (Faces)
5. Art Alliance of Central Pennsylvania : April 2009
Go Figure 2009 (2-D Mixed Media Art)
6. Art in the Market, Boalsburg, PA : June 2009
Lamps and sculptures
7. The HodgePodgery, Harrisburg, PA : Sep 2009
Brew fest Bottle lamps
8. The HodgePodgery, Harrisburg, PA : Sep 2009
Consigning
9. MindWeb (464 Gallery Buffalo), Buffalo, NY: Dec 2009
Consigning
10. naked ARTshow: Emphasis Interiors, Pittsburgh PA: Mar 2010
Lamps, sculptures, home wares
11. eco ARTshow: Emphasis Interiors, Pittsburgh PA: Apr 2010
1. International Mosaic: November 2006
International Programs’ Photo Contest held in honor of International Education Week: Artistry
2. State College Photo Club : Online Photo Contest Theme-"Symmetry" September 2008
3rd Place Winner
3. State College Photo Club : Online Photo Contest Theme-"City Life" - October 2008
3rd Place Winner
4. National Geographic Photography: October 2008
India Photo Map, 'Oh! Calcutta'
5. Art Alliance of Central Pennsylvania : Holiday Exhibit and Sale Nov/Dec 2008
Multiple sculptures and photograph prints
6. Guide to Shenandoah National Park: 2010 Guide
Photograph (Rockytop Overlook)
7. State College Photo Club : Online Photo Contest Theme-"Solitude" February 2010
3rd Place Winner
8. State College Photo Club : Online Photo Contest Theme-"Human Face" November 2010
2nd Place Winner
Art/ Craft
1. Art Alliance of Central Pennsylvania : Jo and Gill Ward Annual Show August 2008
Multiple sculptures
2. Art Alliance of Central Pennsylvania : Holiday Exhibit and Sale Nov/Dec 2008
Multiple sculptures and photograph prints3. Wilcox Winery, State College, PA : Dec 2008
Lamps and sculptures (Wine)
4. Elkcreek Cafe + Aleworks, Millheim, PA : March 2009
Paintings and photograph prints (Faces)
5. Art Alliance of Central Pennsylvania : April 2009
Go Figure 2009 (2-D Mixed Media Art)
6. Art in the Market, Boalsburg, PA : June 2009
Lamps and sculptures
7. The HodgePodgery, Harrisburg, PA : Sep 2009
Brew fest Bottle lamps
8. The HodgePodgery, Harrisburg, PA : Sep 2009
Consigning
9. MindWeb (464 Gallery Buffalo), Buffalo, NY: Dec 2009
Consigning
10. naked ARTshow: Emphasis Interiors, Pittsburgh PA: Mar 2010
Lamps, sculptures, home wares
11. eco ARTshow: Emphasis Interiors, Pittsburgh PA: Apr 2010
Lamps, sculptures, home wares
12. Galleria1712 Spring Art Show, Chicago IL : May 2010
Lamps, clocks, home wares
13. Galleria1712, Wicker Park-Bucktown, Chicago IL : May 2010
13. Galleria1712, Wicker Park-Bucktown, Chicago IL : May 2010
Consigning
Born Thorny
All cacti belong to the 'succulent' family. Unlike your regular vegetables, they dont hide their wealth under the dirt. Nor like your pretty trees, do they change color after fair weather. They store life though; and memories for a long, long time. When you live in a desert, with sand rubbed to your eyes everyday, you need to store those and you need to grow thorns.
But really no, I am not all bark; I am just not a people person, I mean I like people but most people dont like me. I do have a few friends, the exotic, the passionate, the hardy and the rocky... just not the sticky creepers. I cant bear to see them grope for attention.
I am used to staying on without your time and your care and still add that zing to your living. Even at a point when I finally run out of juice you wouldn't probably notice me gone, because I stay on green for longer than I should.
When you think cacti, you think thorns, not the green, not the strength, not the courage, not the 'succulence' but the thorns. Yes I have my thorns and am proud of them, but its probably time to take note that your cacti bruise when they take a fall, they well up when cut and they die without you noticing.
When you think cacti, you think thorns, not the green, not the strength, not the courage, not the 'succulence' but the thorns. Yes I have my thorns and am proud of them, but its probably time to take note that your cacti bruise when they take a fall, they well up when cut and they die without you noticing.
Bring Back Chantico
Cracking Crax
Imagine non spicy, non-yellow Cheetos what after years of school I learnt to call extruded snacks. Flavorful, Delightful rings. Came in a red or green bag.
And then vanished off the face of earth (Calcutta)...came back to New Delhi markets a few years later and then again vanished off the face of earth..as in the whole earth.
Bonny Mix
came to my life when the sun didn't always smile on my side of the bed (my first recognizable signs of depression and I was 8yrs old)...loved the gritty chocolatey flavor, they'd always insist I pour more milk in but I liked my porridge tighter. The first few times of pulling the milk container out of the fridge by myself made me feel very grown up. I still get that feeling sometimes. When it started to fade ff the market, first to go was chocolate flavor and man was the regular one horrible! I blended in nestle cocoa or nutramul in it and it was better than nothing which was soon to follow.
(By the way, lesson that I use in my job now (powders, blending, flavors and the effect of particle size on the same...came from the Cocoa vs. Nutramul blending in Bonny Mix)
Chantico was not hot chocolate at least not what you'd get anywhere in the name of hot chocolate its not mocha either. it was better.
Graduate school-I hated everything even the guy I was dating then (and am married to now). The work, the cold, the team, the neighbors, their fun, my food, just about everything. Just not Chantico. Did not care about the calories (8X regular coffee), did not care about the cost (3X regular coffee). One good sip would be a hot shower + home food + old friends + well slept charm.
But that vanished off their menu too.
I dont understand. Is it me? My tastes are weird and no one likes what I love? But whoever I talk to about this seem to miss Chantico, Bonny Mix etc I'm not a Marketing Guru, but isnt it counter intuitive to take something off the market that people like and want? that is probably not very expensive to produce either, else it would not have survived for all those years!I would really like to know this one? Or was it a new employee trying to show his superior intellect and decision making skills? Our industry doesn't lack that creed!
Bring Back Chantico or if not, let Espresso Truffle be!
Imagine non spicy, non-yellow Cheetos what after years of school I learnt to call extruded snacks. Flavorful, Delightful rings. Came in a red or green bag.
And then vanished off the face of earth (Calcutta)...came back to New Delhi markets a few years later and then again vanished off the face of earth..as in the whole earth.
Bonny Mix
came to my life when the sun didn't always smile on my side of the bed (my first recognizable signs of depression and I was 8yrs old)...loved the gritty chocolatey flavor, they'd always insist I pour more milk in but I liked my porridge tighter. The first few times of pulling the milk container out of the fridge by myself made me feel very grown up. I still get that feeling sometimes. When it started to fade ff the market, first to go was chocolate flavor and man was the regular one horrible! I blended in nestle cocoa or nutramul in it and it was better than nothing which was soon to follow.
(By the way, lesson that I use in my job now (powders, blending, flavors and the effect of particle size on the same...came from the Cocoa vs. Nutramul blending in Bonny Mix)
Chantico was not hot chocolate at least not what you'd get anywhere in the name of hot chocolate its not mocha either. it was better.
Graduate school-I hated everything even the guy I was dating then (and am married to now). The work, the cold, the team, the neighbors, their fun, my food, just about everything. Just not Chantico. Did not care about the calories (8X regular coffee), did not care about the cost (3X regular coffee). One good sip would be a hot shower + home food + old friends + well slept charm.
But that vanished off their menu too.
I dont understand. Is it me? My tastes are weird and no one likes what I love? But whoever I talk to about this seem to miss Chantico, Bonny Mix etc I'm not a Marketing Guru, but isnt it counter intuitive to take something off the market that people like and want? that is probably not very expensive to produce either, else it would not have survived for all those years!I would really like to know this one? Or was it a new employee trying to show his superior intellect and decision making skills? Our industry doesn't lack that creed!
Bring Back Chantico or if not, let Espresso Truffle be!
Maureen Costello
We come here as international graduate students- anxious, unprepared, over-prepared, expecting a glory, following a halo and we find an array of other windows and doors- some open, most closed...Windows of opportunities, misgivings, dissappointments, hope, careers, lives.
One thing I realized was that although you do have an abundance of information and free brochures, you hardly ever receive guidance without a price. At such a point a lab-mate recommended that I specifically ask for Maureen Costello at the ISS advisor's office.
Maureen gave me just that (guidance and advice that didn't have a motive or price tag with it) and she continued to give me that through my life after graduate school.
This news was a shock and a lot of things came rushing back to mind. I feel bad for all those out there at PSU who never had the opportunity to meet her. I would miss her, but for me, remains a precious sticky note that said "Kolika, Enjoy your trip. - Maureen"
I hope she is at peace and I hope that she "enjoys her trip".
One thing I realized was that although you do have an abundance of information and free brochures, you hardly ever receive guidance without a price. At such a point a lab-mate recommended that I specifically ask for Maureen Costello at the ISS advisor's office.
Maureen gave me just that (guidance and advice that didn't have a motive or price tag with it) and she continued to give me that through my life after graduate school.
This news was a shock and a lot of things came rushing back to mind. I feel bad for all those out there at PSU who never had the opportunity to meet her. I would miss her, but for me, remains a precious sticky note that said "Kolika, Enjoy your trip. - Maureen"
I hope she is at peace and I hope that she "enjoys her trip".
__________________________
For Global Lion Newsletter, International Student Services, Penn State University.
Results Returns Reactions
I am rubbing her nose, pulling her ears, stroking her head and she grinds her teeth softly, what the doctors and websites translate as a bunny's equivalent as a cat's purr or for those who are unfamiliar-- 'I am loving it, give me more'. turning on my side now in what is a more favorable position to me, I ask her silently so when would you do this to me? And I bite myself mid sentence. Didn't I always advocate that the most selfless thing you could do was 'this' (for lack of a better word) where I the doer the giver has no inkling whatsoever of the pleasure, happiness, coziness, comfort of the the do-ee or taker. Why then blemish it with the wish would I get it back? self less remember, we are not to talk about results, returns, reactions.
Results:
Are results not the purpose? If we are not to think about results, we are not to have a goal: hereby give Pupu comfort. The big purpose: be a do-good-er. If I am not thinking about the future moment which is the result of this, how would I know if what I am doing has a purpose? If I am following the goal right? If not, what would be the consequences of not reaching my goal etc... you get the point.
So if I dont know or am not sure whether Pupu is liking this petting how do I give it to her, the right way, the right amount the right place. The results, her grinding, snoozing under my hand etc are the required results here.
Returns:
Ok. So I say I am only to love her, not ask for her love in return. Maybe I don't ask her to feed me, clean my toilet or lock me in a cage but I am not so sure I am not asking for her love in return. I am not sure if bunnies are 'advanced' enough to fake a grind just to make me feel that I am appreciated? option 1 would be she likes me petting, expresses her 'I like it'; option 2 hates my petting, fakes the grinding to make me happy, option 3 grinding is just something like goosebumps for bunnies happens in both positive and negative moods, I think of the 1st 'cause I am looking for positive feedback. Option 4 she likes it, she sees that I make a positive correlation with her grinding, more grinding more petting, so in her mind it is not P -->G, it is G-->P hence 'lets G' and thus gives a hoot about me.
So returns as it looks to me is needed sort of as a control factor of the product or service rendered.
Reactions:
Very in sync with the results, but whereas results can include involuntary details, reactions would mean voluntary results and hence essential for the pathway to continue, in this case, I need to know what she likes so I can do it 'to her liking' which knowledge is also gratifying to my self.
So if I don't consider the results, returns and reactions, what would be the reason behind choosing what to do and what not to, whether when and how to do it. Since unreasonably we wouldnt be doing much, we would have to consider the results, returns and reactions. Did selflessness just drop off my screen?
Ribs of a different flavor: Saturday Lunch
What I had
1 finely chopped white/ yellow onion
1 tsp garlic
1 mid-size juicy tomato in small pieces
carrot chopped into 1/2 inch pieces
peas (optional)
ribs: 4-6
sherry cooking wine
cinnamon sticks
bay leaves
parsley
**********************************
What I did with what I had
Fried the ribs, set aside after browning
Used the fat to fry the onions and garlic until transluscent and aromatic
Added tomatoes, tossed added little more oil
Cinnamon and Bay leaves...tossed...chirp chirp chirp
Carrots... purr (sprinkled with parsley)
wine---swoooosh
Ribs back in... chirrrp chirrrp
water...swashssssss..... quiet!
put in pressure cooker... 30 min
switch off...until the steam died off
opened, started heat again...
gravy boiled down to yummy levels
Rice (jasmine rice or any asian rice) boiled with peas.... butter added.
Gravy added with the ribs....
Thats what I call a good Saturday lunch... ready for a nap :)
idea: maybe add nuts next time, almonds or walnuts
Wild (flower) observations
Science, Photography, weekend fun, home bound thoughts and Etymology
(weekend fun)
We went wildflower picking this weekend and as much as my companion hated holding the assortment of long and short wild stems that I handed him he should know I appreciate his effort and am very happy he went with me.
We got a bunch of purple sweet-peas, some Ox eye daisies (small mono-layer 'mums), some white Joe-Pye and some yellow-top golden-rod.
(Science)
24 hours in, the sweet-peas are still thriving albeit some of them turned a bluer purple1 , but the petals are strong whereas the whites and yellows have withered. Same conditions, light, temperature, water.
I have noticed the same thing among red-purple bleeding hearts. They would live on that color and structure forever, until they eventually (after 3-5 days) dried up—living conditions? All but palatial; at the oddest of places, besides the floor mat in my car! Inside my garage where bad fumes rule, no sunlight, no fresh air, no water 2. Petunias would sog and sigh, but then that's how they are- thin, fragile, shriveling and crying at the hint of water or air. But even if the dermas shrink beyond recognition the colors would be intact without any external preserving treatment.
I am guessing it is the anti-aging activity of anthocyanidins in the petals? Delphinidin, Cyanidin, Petunidin and Peonidins 3 (?)
(home bound)
Another observation I can't ignore is the difference of colors in common (not the ones you buy from specialty markets) fruits and flowers in India and here (north east US). I am not saying that you don't get yellow flowers here, but the ratio of red-orange-yellow to blue-purple-red is much higher in India than here. Think mangoes, oranges, pineapples; compare that to grapes- concords, reds, cranberries, strawberries, raspberries, blue berries…. Think marigold, hibiscus, Krishnachura/ Gul-mohar (whatever the name is in English is eluding me now) and compare petunias, violets, pansies, daisies, delphinia. I grew up seeing yellow chrysanthemums at my mom's garden back there and now all I buy are purple ones. I believe the way we are going with genetics, "we are literally living life in Technicolor" even going all natural I don't say that you wouldn't see yellows and reds here and blues and purples there but its the ratio I cant ignore. Over here, a little south, and you have oranges in Sunshine state of Florida. And in India, you go a little north and beautiful orchids in every shade of purple welcome you, so do red apples. Is it the temperature then? Sub-tropic vs. temperate?
One huge (you might disagree on the huge) exception to this rule are lantanas. The prettiest are the pink-white-purple combinations so rampant in India but all I get here are red-yellow-oranges. Hmmm. Any ideas?
1 I am giving that (redderàbluer hue transition) to the increased alkalinity in water that I put the cut stems in (?) "anthocyanidins are highly conjugated chromophores. When the pH is changed, the extent of the conjugation (of the double bonds) is altered, which alters the wavelength of light energy absorbed by the molecule. (Natural anthocyanidins are most stable in a very low pH environment; at pH 8.0, most become colorless.) At pH 2.0, peonidin is cherry red; at 3.0 a strong yellowish pink; at 5.0 it is grape red-purple; and at 8.0 it becomes deep blue". Or would it be simple old-age?
2You can say that the phloems aren't carrying any water to the latter flowers. So water or no water probably doesn't count.
3 You've probably noted the similarity in names of some flowers and these chemicals. Like Peony and Peonidin, Petunia and Petunidin, Delphinium and Delphinidin. Cyan probably is from Blue. Antho meaning flower would give anthocyanins and anthocyanidins. [Anthocyanidins= Sugar (moiety) + anthocyanins.] So I am guessing cyanidins or anthocyanins were named from bluish pigments extracted from flowers and then as the others were discovered, they got named after the source. Later probably it was discovered that the same compounds exist in fruits and that is when it got popular among the non-scientific community. (Etymology)
Incomprehension
Every so often we meet these people who seem to stand apart from the rest. The rest who are incomprehensible. To whom I am incomprehensible. why do I try to comprehend everything around me? And everyone? I wish I could make it not bother me. Why would I want to think why somebody would do something when I dont know why I am not sure of my motives or reasons for everything I do? Am I abusing freedom? Free will? Do I have free will? Or are we all wrapped around someone's finger. If that is the case why are we with a brain full of lipids and current trying to figure who we are and why.
and everytime we meet these people who we deem not incomprehensible, is it just a comic relief for the fingered One up there? A dog star to follow? A sign to recognize? And to be grateful? What's a girl to do? What's a girl to do?
In reference to the 'My Cinderella Story' http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story.html)
So everyone thought this was very personal and instead of comments I got lengthy emails, IM-s and phone calls. I short listed the questions/comments I received so far to the 5 most interesting ones (that I previously considered duh! Apparently NOT!!)
- Who is Susie?
Susie Derkins, the only important secondary character with both a given name and a family name, is a classmate of Calvin's who lives in his neighborhood. Named for the pet beagle of Watterson's wife's family, she first appeared early in the strip as a new student in Calvin's class. In contrast with Calvin, she is polite and diligent in her studies, and her imagination usually seems mild-mannered and civilized, consisting of stereotypical young girl games such as playing house or having tea parties with her stuffed animals. Though both of them hate to admit it, Calvin and Susie have quite a bit in common. For example, Susie is shown on occasion with a stuffed rabbit dubbed "Mr. Bun", and Calvin, of course, has Hobbes. Susie also has a mischievous streak, which can be seen when she subverts Calvin's attempts to cheat on school tests by feeding him incorrect answers. Susie also regularly bests Calvin in confrontations, such as their water and snowball fights, employing guile or force. Watterson admits that Calvin and Susie have a bit of a nascent crush on each other, and that Susie is inspired by the type of woman that he himself finds attractive and eventually married. Hobbes often openly expresses his admiration for Susie, much to Calvin's disgust.
Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calvin_and_Hobbes#Susie_Derkins
- Who in your audience is going to understand this best?
Well… a) people who know the characters (my husband would probably top this list); b) Google-savvy others c) Mom (because she acts like a teenager who knows everything about everything d) anyone who's remotely interested… and once you understand what is there to understand if anything please let me know… because I strongly believe and support that an author/ blogger's interpretation might have nothing to do with the readers. So what do you care what I thought, just keep your brains active!
- Are you having hallucinations?
I don't think so… I actually don't really understand what hallucinating means… I do have a 2nd life (very conscious 2nd life that I like to call my imagination) if it means being schizophrenic or drunk I haven't been diagnosed/ accused as either.
- What's with the darkness, are you okay?
Yes and thank you for asking and I love you for being you!
- Did you write this?
.... Umm yeah sort of. Thanks for disbelieving--that was flattering! And well sort of because the characters already existed in myth, fiction and in our minds. I just changed the assumptions and its like putting new toys in a kids hand (or new munchies to Pupu)… and watch out for what they do with that…its personal enough to be written by me (as in MY Cinderella story), and impersonal enough to not portray my experience and/or thoughts about life, religion, love, mental health or fairy tales …hence my CINDERELLA (and) STORY.
The link for the story: http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-4.html)
My Cinderella Story -Part 5
(Continued from Part IV http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-4.html)
Choose your own ending….
A for alive, B for boring & C for Children (or indecisive heart), D for dead.
Part V—Option A (for Alive)
So run, Achilles, run. Faster than you can. Before I change my mind again, run, until the cold air blades through your lungs and rips your heart. Run Achilles before time runs out. Because if she wakes up to decide that she wants you again, you might never be able to leave this golden perch. Run for the life of you, to where the streams of freedom flow. Run for the life of you and me.
And when you're far enough don't you look back, because I might not be riding with the tigers no more. I'll be outed in black ink somewhere on the cardboard backing of my sister's diary, somewhere lost in her chicken scratch.
Don't be looking for Eeyore either. He'll probably be around here, carrying the weight of the earth on his Atlas powered heaving back, carrying the load until the day, that the earth stops spinning.
And who knows, maybe if you can run fast enough to where the sun blooms, the earth might decide to stop to steal a smile at you. So shine on Achilles, before Eve's patulin potion kicks back, before Adam ebbs at the hormones, before the wickedness rises up, before the magic hisses back, again. Run.
Don't you understand Achilles I am finishing your story and letting you go? I am slaying your ties and freeing myself so I can finally, finally retire. I long a restful slumber. My soul wants to creep back into the body of Sleeping Beauty. I will chop off this hair, Achilles, so you have no means of getting to me in my tower. Looking back at us Achilles will only crack the mirrors of the future. So run; and you will live.
Every step you take away will inch me into the thick nectar of tranquility, until I drop as a melted snow flake migrating from the North Pole to attend Christmas in July; until I bloom on the Burmese grass blades as dew; until I rise as the steam on the asphalt roads that lead to Worcestershire.
Run and tell everyone in happily ever after land that unlike the other daughters of Eve I have chosen to set you free. I was not your regular Cinderella. Tell the world that your sleeping beauty is finally asleep.
PART V---Option B (for Boring) and C (for children and indecisive adults)
Stop Achilles, enough for today. I did tell you not to call me Cinderella and ask me to wear pink. I did remind you your name is not Achilles, you old toothless dinosaur, get over it! You are tooth fairy's husband why don't you ask her to bring you a new set of dentures? You're a crumpled, old, toothless dinosaur and don't pay me enough to make you these stories every night. You should ask your dentist wife to take you out sometime, maybe get a life, instead of hiring me to lull you go to sleep every night! I am tired of being your sheep-counting-machine.
Anyway I got to go. I have to go to my day job early tomorrow and its pretty late already. Why don't you try to sleep, maybe think of what you want to listen to, tomorrow? Try to rest you dinosaur, I'll be back tomorrow with another way of taking you through the day just for fantasy purposes. Just have my paycheck ready. Its Thursday already.
PART V—Option D (for Dead)
But I care not Achilles whether killing you would pin me down to the dungeons forever. You make me so irritable at times, that all I can think of is that omlette maker. But let's gear up here, for today is the Christmas celebration in July… so many demonstrations, demolitions and devastations later they're still up for it? Surprises the holly out of me. But it's our war Achilles and we gotta fight it and fight it good. Then when we come back and I'll fix your faucet, so you can cry your repentance out. Until then the only thing in your body that should flow is the pancreatic juice. There's going to be fried food at the fair. But you're not to touch it for I will have it contaminated with ugly big calories and we'll have another generation of fat stupid kids watching reality television and snoring off their wheel chairs.
Hobbes called earlier today. That Dopey. Says he wants in. I said "sure. Just make sure Eeyore gets you trained (or restrained!)". His dwarf brothers Grumpy Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy and their cousin Dobbie are going to be there too. They sneaked into the tap dancing team as tots and just by doing the steps wrong they can throw the rest of the team off-stage and off-rage. I am so eagerly waiting to see that performance.
And Achilles if by the end of the weekend they don't stop this audacious scope of happiness seeking festivity, I will hit you hard enough so the sandcastles that you pet behind your ears blow out to spit sand in their eyes. And they take their festivity indoors. No more smelling the rain-blanched soil. No more swinging on low-branched trees and watching movies in the park. Happiness is prohibited. And you Achilles will be to blame. This is the Earth Achilles, your pal Atlas' world. it is always somebody's fault and for this happy and gay pink, you are to be thrown in a dungeon full of obtuse people with putrid outlooks on life. You are to stay there until the Dementors of my acrid thoughts leach out all your positivity, until your ideas about over-rated happiness are clarified like thin oil.
Happiness is prohibitted and untimely happiness an oxymoronic premonition of graveness.
So take your pick from burning in the passion of war, basking in the traction pull of prehistoric humane rules or changing your ideas of hope. Either way Achilles you're as good as dead.
Choose your own ending….
A for alive, B for boring & C for Children (or indecisive heart), D for dead.
Part V—Option A (for Alive)
So run, Achilles, run. Faster than you can. Before I change my mind again, run, until the cold air blades through your lungs and rips your heart. Run Achilles before time runs out. Because if she wakes up to decide that she wants you again, you might never be able to leave this golden perch. Run for the life of you, to where the streams of freedom flow. Run for the life of you and me.
And when you're far enough don't you look back, because I might not be riding with the tigers no more. I'll be outed in black ink somewhere on the cardboard backing of my sister's diary, somewhere lost in her chicken scratch.
Don't be looking for Eeyore either. He'll probably be around here, carrying the weight of the earth on his Atlas powered heaving back, carrying the load until the day, that the earth stops spinning.
And who knows, maybe if you can run fast enough to where the sun blooms, the earth might decide to stop to steal a smile at you. So shine on Achilles, before Eve's patulin potion kicks back, before Adam ebbs at the hormones, before the wickedness rises up, before the magic hisses back, again. Run.
Don't you understand Achilles I am finishing your story and letting you go? I am slaying your ties and freeing myself so I can finally, finally retire. I long a restful slumber. My soul wants to creep back into the body of Sleeping Beauty. I will chop off this hair, Achilles, so you have no means of getting to me in my tower. Looking back at us Achilles will only crack the mirrors of the future. So run; and you will live.
Every step you take away will inch me into the thick nectar of tranquility, until I drop as a melted snow flake migrating from the North Pole to attend Christmas in July; until I bloom on the Burmese grass blades as dew; until I rise as the steam on the asphalt roads that lead to Worcestershire.
Run and tell everyone in happily ever after land that unlike the other daughters of Eve I have chosen to set you free. I was not your regular Cinderella. Tell the world that your sleeping beauty is finally asleep.
PART V---Option B (for Boring) and C (for children and indecisive adults)
Stop Achilles, enough for today. I did tell you not to call me Cinderella and ask me to wear pink. I did remind you your name is not Achilles, you old toothless dinosaur, get over it! You are tooth fairy's husband why don't you ask her to bring you a new set of dentures? You're a crumpled, old, toothless dinosaur and don't pay me enough to make you these stories every night. You should ask your dentist wife to take you out sometime, maybe get a life, instead of hiring me to lull you go to sleep every night! I am tired of being your sheep-counting-machine.
Anyway I got to go. I have to go to my day job early tomorrow and its pretty late already. Why don't you try to sleep, maybe think of what you want to listen to, tomorrow? Try to rest you dinosaur, I'll be back tomorrow with another way of taking you through the day just for fantasy purposes. Just have my paycheck ready. Its Thursday already.
PART V—Option D (for Dead)
But I care not Achilles whether killing you would pin me down to the dungeons forever. You make me so irritable at times, that all I can think of is that omlette maker. But let's gear up here, for today is the Christmas celebration in July… so many demonstrations, demolitions and devastations later they're still up for it? Surprises the holly out of me. But it's our war Achilles and we gotta fight it and fight it good. Then when we come back and I'll fix your faucet, so you can cry your repentance out. Until then the only thing in your body that should flow is the pancreatic juice. There's going to be fried food at the fair. But you're not to touch it for I will have it contaminated with ugly big calories and we'll have another generation of fat stupid kids watching reality television and snoring off their wheel chairs.
Hobbes called earlier today. That Dopey. Says he wants in. I said "sure. Just make sure Eeyore gets you trained (or restrained!)". His dwarf brothers Grumpy Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy and their cousin Dobbie are going to be there too. They sneaked into the tap dancing team as tots and just by doing the steps wrong they can throw the rest of the team off-stage and off-rage. I am so eagerly waiting to see that performance.
And Achilles if by the end of the weekend they don't stop this audacious scope of happiness seeking festivity, I will hit you hard enough so the sandcastles that you pet behind your ears blow out to spit sand in their eyes. And they take their festivity indoors. No more smelling the rain-blanched soil. No more swinging on low-branched trees and watching movies in the park. Happiness is prohibited. And you Achilles will be to blame. This is the Earth Achilles, your pal Atlas' world. it is always somebody's fault and for this happy and gay pink, you are to be thrown in a dungeon full of obtuse people with putrid outlooks on life. You are to stay there until the Dementors of my acrid thoughts leach out all your positivity, until your ideas about over-rated happiness are clarified like thin oil.
Happiness is prohibitted and untimely happiness an oxymoronic premonition of graveness.
So take your pick from burning in the passion of war, basking in the traction pull of prehistoric humane rules or changing your ideas of hope. Either way Achilles you're as good as dead.
My Cinderella Story-Part 4
(Continued from Part III http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-3.html)
Part IV
Achilles, the time is nearing. And as much as we’d like to stall it in futile conversation and masticating faded glory, we have to get to what is inevitable. You have to understand Achilles that impatient “I” am only the catalyst of a cata-ballistic process, that’s much bigger and stronger than either of us… a future that’s stronger even than the mind that craved you and created me. And I have to admit Achilles that as much as I love to rant about how I’d bring about your end at my own sweet time and will, between the two of us, you are the only one who has any will of his own. Maybe an ancient chauvinistic one that’s out of proportion of your sister’s bedtime story book but it is still better than non-existent, I say.
As much as I would like to premeditate your demise, I cannot ignore that if is for you that I was born. In my fantasies when I’m dancing a wild tandav with your ashes, the rude awakening of sudden self-realization never misses me… I am just that—a cloud of ash. Of burnt hope and desires.
I am not your regular Cinderella. I carry the blood of the wise ones from the east. I cracked open from the eggs of the wicked witch. I am an obscurity to my own father. I was reared with magic. I was condemned by Eves and infatuated by Adams of your world. I am impatience. I ride with the tigers and riot against summer. And I mate you only to smell the putrid toxin of vengeance.
But (do you see that) I don’t exist without you? it is the longing for you that created me from my sisters delusions, born of the flames of her raging nerves here I stand talking of your destruction, at the countdown hour of my own end.
(To be continued… to go to the Part V, go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-5a.html)
My Cinderella Story - Part 3
(Continued from Part II http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-2.html)
Part III
Achilles, are you awake?
You wouldn’t be purring that quiet snore if you were awake. Purring, you sound so much like Chesire. He was the cutest thing asleep, it's his wide-eyed grin that raises hell. Have you ever known someone completely lovable when asleep and quiet; and the moment they’re awake it’s like a dance of destruction in your synapses, a tannin chill down your spine and you want to get away from them as much as possible, as fast as you can? Much like the feeling of restless longing for someone sitting right next to you, longing for something you can’t put your finger on. That, Achilles, is the most incapacitating form of unease; the killer sense of incompleteness; the type of chemical reaction of your hormones, that the institution of marriage is standing on. That, Achilles, is known to Eve’s protégés as loneliness.
Achilles, did I ever tell you how I met the Cheshire Cat? When we were young, we had always wanted a fairy Godmother. Basically anything-mother would do, just not a Evil Eve step-mother… and unlike how easy your sister’s book makes it sound, you don’t really have them flying in at your neediest hours, you have to put in due effort, log in and file the paperwork and based on compatibility one is sent to you in regular mail, without a tracking number, of course. So fifty six days after filing for one, just as we were at the brink of losing interest and all hope …along came Hermione from Worcestershire.
Dressed out of a Forever 21 brochure, nineteen-year-old, single-mother Mrs. Hermione Ron Weasley walked in with newborn Chesire in the crib. She obviously needed a job. And whoever referred her, was obviously not getting his cuts based on compatibility! We wanted a “fairy Godmother” not a baby-sitter with her own bag of problems. But as per the contract, she had to do so many things for us, the mother-abandoned, step-mother-abused Snow White Cinderella-s wards, before she could move on to her next life--her maiden family of Cat-woods (Scottish catoids) were allowed nineteen lives.
So we decided to make do with whatever we got. The only right thing about her was her magic wand. And with a little brush-up, the star student that she was in her younger days, she redid our interiors, got Maddy Mud White into therapy and trained me on her old tricks from Dudley's Defense against Dark Acts for Muggle Fairy Characters...
that was a big expertise-builder I tell you for my Damnation course and also came handy when I was out rioting against Christmas in July. Selling infected candy and sand filled funnel cake was a fun idea I have to admit, although very unGodmotherly.
Another thing I liked about her was her whimsically designed pair of fluttery triwigs. Never heard of triwigs? Like balds wear wigs, treacherous wizards without wings wear triwigs. Technology these days I tell you…catch up Achilles, catch up! So with these triwigs, you just need to sprinkle some magnet-dust and top it with the Leviosa spell and off you go, as good as Mom’s latest Nimbus 009. Hermione always had a magical solution to all our needs, just not that of a mother... She was a strong woman, Achilles, never smiling, but never perturbed either. Always courteous and in every way a perfect humanoid. In an imperfect, fairy-world family. She left after a perfect shocker accident, 77 months and 3 days after she first appeared at our south door.
Little Cheshire grew up in our kitchen with the other cats. Wild cats that played cards with Eve. I don’t think he remembers much of Hermione or retains any of her genes expect for the nineteen lives all of which he’s planning to live with us, sigh! The fish from our ponds will keep disappearing, so will the people from the nearby villages I know, until one day we can lure him under the ground with the white-rabbit-trick, hide the keys and make him stay there with the Queen of hearts.
You have to understand Achilles. He’s difficult. And that’s the only reason why I keep forgiving that grin and keep him around. His vicious nature keeps my vile alive so I can build it up and thwart 'you'. Finally.
(to be continued...for part IV go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-4.html)
Part III
Achilles, are you awake?
You wouldn’t be purring that quiet snore if you were awake. Purring, you sound so much like Chesire. He was the cutest thing asleep, it's his wide-eyed grin that raises hell. Have you ever known someone completely lovable when asleep and quiet; and the moment they’re awake it’s like a dance of destruction in your synapses, a tannin chill down your spine and you want to get away from them as much as possible, as fast as you can? Much like the feeling of restless longing for someone sitting right next to you, longing for something you can’t put your finger on. That, Achilles, is the most incapacitating form of unease; the killer sense of incompleteness; the type of chemical reaction of your hormones, that the institution of marriage is standing on. That, Achilles, is known to Eve’s protégés as loneliness.
Achilles, did I ever tell you how I met the Cheshire Cat? When we were young, we had always wanted a fairy Godmother. Basically anything-mother would do, just not a Evil Eve step-mother… and unlike how easy your sister’s book makes it sound, you don’t really have them flying in at your neediest hours, you have to put in due effort, log in and file the paperwork and based on compatibility one is sent to you in regular mail, without a tracking number, of course. So fifty six days after filing for one, just as we were at the brink of losing interest and all hope …along came Hermione from Worcestershire.
Dressed out of a Forever 21 brochure, nineteen-year-old, single-mother Mrs. Hermione Ron Weasley walked in with newborn Chesire in the crib. She obviously needed a job. And whoever referred her, was obviously not getting his cuts based on compatibility! We wanted a “fairy Godmother” not a baby-sitter with her own bag of problems. But as per the contract, she had to do so many things for us, the mother-abandoned, step-mother-abused Snow White Cinderella-s wards, before she could move on to her next life--her maiden family of Cat-woods (Scottish catoids) were allowed nineteen lives.
So we decided to make do with whatever we got. The only right thing about her was her magic wand. And with a little brush-up, the star student that she was in her younger days, she redid our interiors, got Maddy Mud White into therapy and trained me on her old tricks from Dudley's Defense against Dark Acts for Muggle Fairy Characters...
that was a big expertise-builder I tell you for my Damnation course and also came handy when I was out rioting against Christmas in July. Selling infected candy and sand filled funnel cake was a fun idea I have to admit, although very unGodmotherly.
Another thing I liked about her was her whimsically designed pair of fluttery triwigs. Never heard of triwigs? Like balds wear wigs, treacherous wizards without wings wear triwigs. Technology these days I tell you…catch up Achilles, catch up! So with these triwigs, you just need to sprinkle some magnet-dust and top it with the Leviosa spell and off you go, as good as Mom’s latest Nimbus 009. Hermione always had a magical solution to all our needs, just not that of a mother... She was a strong woman, Achilles, never smiling, but never perturbed either. Always courteous and in every way a perfect humanoid. In an imperfect, fairy-world family. She left after a perfect shocker accident, 77 months and 3 days after she first appeared at our south door.
Little Cheshire grew up in our kitchen with the other cats. Wild cats that played cards with Eve. I don’t think he remembers much of Hermione or retains any of her genes expect for the nineteen lives all of which he’s planning to live with us, sigh! The fish from our ponds will keep disappearing, so will the people from the nearby villages I know, until one day we can lure him under the ground with the white-rabbit-trick, hide the keys and make him stay there with the Queen of hearts.
You have to understand Achilles. He’s difficult. And that’s the only reason why I keep forgiving that grin and keep him around. His vicious nature keeps my vile alive so I can build it up and thwart 'you'. Finally.
(to be continued...for part IV go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-4.html)
My Cinderella Story - Part 2
(Continued from Part I http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story.html)
Part II
Now peace, Achilles, that’s something none of us have been getting too much of, lately. I look at the Tortoise and Maddy Mud, they get along so well in spite of the fact that Maddy Mud had always craved you. You were patient with her. Very patient with poor Muddy which she didn’t really get elsewhere. But then she find of fell in place smoothly as Tortoise came in, she in fact promoted our liaison remember? She must have had her reasons.
Now at getting us together...Eeyore was smart, Eastern brain again. Royal Bengal he’d proudly say… close to where Grand-Daddy Santa is from, originally. A few more degrees of this global warming and I tell you, all that will be added to Dad’s Under the Sea kingdom. Whoever is left here on the high western edge of the world, we’re all gonna melt like Ginger-Boy’s buttons—some tacky, some dry, some flaky and some will dry clear like ModPodge glue on hardwood floors. Yeah I dread that.
But what I am dreading most is the territory fight with Nemo. They never really liked us there, only if Dad realized…but he wont budge. Says the Dead Sea minerals are good for his beard, so he wont put up a fight or move away from Sea Aussie… neither will his Aqua-BarbieGirl humming Little Mermaid princess… giggly little pink pest! That’s what she is.
Eeyore hates her too. See you have to understand Eeyore, he has a thing against the happy ones, the nice ones, the perceived nice ones rather. That’s why he likes me. That’s why he got us together Achilles, I think, so I could bring the nice you to an end or at least your niceness. He doesn’t say a word, but I think he has known all along… that I like to be involved with the bests, the biggests and the firsts. And you were all of that and still are. You are also the fastest. You have been here since before Eve dumped Adam. You have been solving paradoxes and running marathons on South Park roads for longer than I can remember. You, beautiful mind, Achilles; you old, fossilized, rusted, Greek horseshoe, if you’re not beautiful who is? And your speed, Achilles, Godspeed! You know I am impatient, I love it speedy and I love speed. I have always believed good things come to those who wait and better to those who don’t. And you Achilles never gave me the chance to wait. That always gives me a high. Speed. My nickname for myself, “I” you know where that came from? It’s an initial for Impatience. Now you know Impatience is not my middle name, it is my name; it is what I call myself.
For tens of years, hundreds of languages for thousands of pages, you’ve been galloping down on white horses and carrying me away to Happily Ever After land. What the languages in all those pages fail to mention is that, after we argue about some subtle changes in the honeymoon plan, we split. You graciously drop me off, I nod a brief thank you and off we are to each of our worlds. And that is how happily we live. Happily not peacefully. Peace, Achilles is not something you and I have a lot of, do we?
You can answer that, I wont bark. I would even grant you the liberty to answer that wrong. But you wont dare even in your starched frilled dreams, I know. You for one wont be mis/taken by a promise of subtlety from me. You know me too well. Correction: you can predict me very well. There is really not much to know about me, not much to me, Achilles. As Maddy Muddy says after popping her nightly dose, I am just a figment of her convoluted neurons, I am her escape from an abandoned, immigrant childhood. I am the someone she has always wanted to be. I am her persona-mate. I am her persona. I am her disease and her cure. I am the one who’s with the one she always wanted to be with, that someone is you…someone who I can smack, slay, sack, put down, look down, shoot down any time I like, that someone who is indefinitely defeated when faced with her man, the Tortoise.
Achilles I am my sister’s dead, defeated soul’s blown-up shadow. I am her power and her defense, her turret window- fire escape.
I am not your regular Cinderella, Achilles.
I am not bound by time. It is always midnight, somewhere on earth. And you or anyone else would never come galloping the next day if I left my shoes at yours. In fact I have never owned glass slippers. The only ones I ever saw were my mother’s red ones. My mother stole them from some girl from Kansas and had spun a story about how she had to be taken away in a hot-air-balloon from Oz to Wonderland with handcuffs on. Not that I believed any of that... It was the Cheshire Cat. History buffs might want to pet him on skimmed milk but his anecdotes are just hideous sleaze to me. He comes along, grinning, like he’s seen me naked and expects me to be as nice with him as Alice… Well, that’s not happening kitty cat, this is not your regular Wonderland and I am not your regular Cinderella.
I don’t cook and clean for anyone. Not even myself. Eeyore takes care of that for me. and you too sometimes Achilles, ah when you call me princess and wish to see me dressed in pink lace, Achilles!... you disgust me. I feel like throwing my obese step-sister at you, squishing you under her cellulite affected warped brain. But that might not bother you that much and that parchment of sanity and calm on your face ends up riling me sometimes. You Achilles are an obscurity, an enigma that I don’t quite get, nor do I get why 'I' am 'we' with 'you'.
(to be continued...)
For Part III go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-3.html
Part II
Now peace, Achilles, that’s something none of us have been getting too much of, lately. I look at the Tortoise and Maddy Mud, they get along so well in spite of the fact that Maddy Mud had always craved you. You were patient with her. Very patient with poor Muddy which she didn’t really get elsewhere. But then she find of fell in place smoothly as Tortoise came in, she in fact promoted our liaison remember? She must have had her reasons.
Now at getting us together...Eeyore was smart, Eastern brain again. Royal Bengal he’d proudly say… close to where Grand-Daddy Santa is from, originally. A few more degrees of this global warming and I tell you, all that will be added to Dad’s Under the Sea kingdom. Whoever is left here on the high western edge of the world, we’re all gonna melt like Ginger-Boy’s buttons—some tacky, some dry, some flaky and some will dry clear like ModPodge glue on hardwood floors. Yeah I dread that.
But what I am dreading most is the territory fight with Nemo. They never really liked us there, only if Dad realized…but he wont budge. Says the Dead Sea minerals are good for his beard, so he wont put up a fight or move away from Sea Aussie… neither will his Aqua-BarbieGirl humming Little Mermaid princess… giggly little pink pest! That’s what she is.
Eeyore hates her too. See you have to understand Eeyore, he has a thing against the happy ones, the nice ones, the perceived nice ones rather. That’s why he likes me. That’s why he got us together Achilles, I think, so I could bring the nice you to an end or at least your niceness. He doesn’t say a word, but I think he has known all along… that I like to be involved with the bests, the biggests and the firsts. And you were all of that and still are. You are also the fastest. You have been here since before Eve dumped Adam. You have been solving paradoxes and running marathons on South Park roads for longer than I can remember. You, beautiful mind, Achilles; you old, fossilized, rusted, Greek horseshoe, if you’re not beautiful who is? And your speed, Achilles, Godspeed! You know I am impatient, I love it speedy and I love speed. I have always believed good things come to those who wait and better to those who don’t. And you Achilles never gave me the chance to wait. That always gives me a high. Speed. My nickname for myself, “I” you know where that came from? It’s an initial for Impatience. Now you know Impatience is not my middle name, it is my name; it is what I call myself.
For tens of years, hundreds of languages for thousands of pages, you’ve been galloping down on white horses and carrying me away to Happily Ever After land. What the languages in all those pages fail to mention is that, after we argue about some subtle changes in the honeymoon plan, we split. You graciously drop me off, I nod a brief thank you and off we are to each of our worlds. And that is how happily we live. Happily not peacefully. Peace, Achilles is not something you and I have a lot of, do we?
You can answer that, I wont bark. I would even grant you the liberty to answer that wrong. But you wont dare even in your starched frilled dreams, I know. You for one wont be mis/taken by a promise of subtlety from me. You know me too well. Correction: you can predict me very well. There is really not much to know about me, not much to me, Achilles. As Maddy Muddy says after popping her nightly dose, I am just a figment of her convoluted neurons, I am her escape from an abandoned, immigrant childhood. I am the someone she has always wanted to be. I am her persona-mate. I am her persona. I am her disease and her cure. I am the one who’s with the one she always wanted to be with, that someone is you…someone who I can smack, slay, sack, put down, look down, shoot down any time I like, that someone who is indefinitely defeated when faced with her man, the Tortoise.
Achilles I am my sister’s dead, defeated soul’s blown-up shadow. I am her power and her defense, her turret window- fire escape.
I am not your regular Cinderella, Achilles.
I am not bound by time. It is always midnight, somewhere on earth. And you or anyone else would never come galloping the next day if I left my shoes at yours. In fact I have never owned glass slippers. The only ones I ever saw were my mother’s red ones. My mother stole them from some girl from Kansas and had spun a story about how she had to be taken away in a hot-air-balloon from Oz to Wonderland with handcuffs on. Not that I believed any of that... It was the Cheshire Cat. History buffs might want to pet him on skimmed milk but his anecdotes are just hideous sleaze to me. He comes along, grinning, like he’s seen me naked and expects me to be as nice with him as Alice… Well, that’s not happening kitty cat, this is not your regular Wonderland and I am not your regular Cinderella.
I don’t cook and clean for anyone. Not even myself. Eeyore takes care of that for me. and you too sometimes Achilles, ah when you call me princess and wish to see me dressed in pink lace, Achilles!... you disgust me. I feel like throwing my obese step-sister at you, squishing you under her cellulite affected warped brain. But that might not bother you that much and that parchment of sanity and calm on your face ends up riling me sometimes. You Achilles are an obscurity, an enigma that I don’t quite get, nor do I get why 'I' am 'we' with 'you'.
(to be continued...)
For Part III go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-3.html
My Cinderella Story
Part I
I am not your regular Cinderella.
And if I have to be, for fantasy purposes of getting you through the day, you, Achilles, you have to be the Dinosaur that I would slay. Hopping on a hoofed-up, steroid pumping, pink pony with a red devil spiky tail, I will slay you.
That pony is dressed to suit your little sister’s bedtime story book and the color on her walls but inside it’s just a soul-wounded, young, tiger cub.
The kind of fat kid that the kinds of handsome Simba bully in the community jungle-ground. As if having Lion King as Dad and a charmer baby-face with imploring puppy eyes could buy Sly Simba anything beyond Broadway dough. But yeah, as much as you realize the truth and read between his whiskers, these clever Simba-s are born winners. They effortlessly glide through life and you can only hope in your dark dreams (like Eeyore does) that they fall off a cliff somewhere or burn…
...Ah! I see, you thought Eeyore was the tail-tied donkey from Winnie the Pooh, eh? Wrong again! He’s a ‘tongue-tied’ young tiger, I repeat, not the happy ones like Tigger jumping on his rear; but the 'seemingly' resigned, quite ones that has friends who are way too dumb to realize what is bothering him. The light headed lot of ale pumping friends.
But hey, that’s why he left them and came to me for a job (and a life); and well, I needed someone too. My old, fairy-blue, hybrid pumpkin-carriage was starting to get a drinking problem and you know how every summer beverage prices shoot up, its hard to keep up with this economy I tell you. Yes dumb*** I am not your regular Cinderella, painting my toenails on your window sill.
I needed someone who’d carry me around, talk to my schizophrenic evil twin....oh okay fine, not my twin… see, I call her a twin and her? She calls me a manifestation of her sickness (and that is when medicated….) at other times, its like I don't even exist!
It (her ‘pharmacy abuse’) all started with the bright green patulin coated apple that Eve, our step-mother sent her. I told her, "you got apple you gotta make pie and mail it to the return address". But no, she ate it in perfect size00 proportions! She should know better; especially since Eve already did that to her ex, Adam…yeah, she wanted a lot, Adam oblivious to the wants and ‘vices’ of femme nature... she was soon bored and that’s when she met my father (poor Adam, still doesn’t get what hit him!)
…Now my father is a different man--a doting, obsessed individual I tell you, more of a father-figure than a father really…that too, to our youngest cousin, the Little Mermaid. Its all about fish and fins, aroma therapy and yoga... he spends half his royal court-time is his retreat kingdom under the sea! Get that!
And we, figments of Bedtime Fairy land are not allowed mothers for some obscure reasons. Our mothers lay the eggs and off they fly on a broom so high! And our Doting Daddy-s remarry to get us our Evil Eve Step mothers.
Now this boy Adam, I’ve always had a thing for him. That is before he shed his Tarzan colored khakis for the white dog-collar (the apple I tell you!). He used to dig my sort of poetry and expressionist art stuff that the likes of you will never get. I forgive you for that. He was all lyrically elusive, the kind whose abuse the likes of me soak in and gobble down by the kilo, with a vinaigrette dressing and cherry....
My kind of masochistic, un-pink, Cinderella-s.
So yeah coming back to Eeyore, he’s the kind that took the long hard way to the top, his top, to actually be my personamate. I don’t know if that’s a word in your dictionary but the grade-school I went to gave me a bonus 0.2 grade point for coining this in my damnation letter-competition.
Eeyore was the one who introduced us remember? At the country fair grounds where I rallied against ‘Christmas in July’….what a concept seriously! I left bed-bugs in the rented clothes, the kids got huge big rashes and boils…Oh what a sight! It still cracks me up. It’s funny until someone gets hurt and then it becomes hilarious. Calvin, the neighbor kid, the one that ended up marrying Susie after high school (remember Susie?) used to say something like this. Hobbes used to talk about him ALL the time, all the time… he’d sit by the dumpster there and chat with Eeyore about what Calvin would say and what he’d do and how weirdly funny his parents were (like we didn’t know)…. But Eeyore didn’t know... so he enjoyed; and not only that, the entrepreneur that he is, he did this new thing on Facebook where he had these up as quotes…yeah, whatever! you aren’t listening I can tell…. I know you’re primitive, you’re a dinosaur! Not only do you wag like one, you think like one too. Catch up, I tell you, catch up or I’ll slay you. Smack you on your head with the new omelet maker Mom gave me….
Oops. Okay so now you know Mom’s back. After having a fulfilling egg-ditching session of 30 prime years, one fine afternoon, she parked her broom on our palace grounds and strode in on her bright red slippers, all gadgety and sharp. Gadgety …now that’s from Grand-Daddy Clause! Ah, her dark flowing hair promising some silver underneath... oh! how awesome that will look with her brown, frowning skin. And sharp, oh my, she’s the Marketing Guru for the biggest toy company on earth she’s hovering over their shoulders to make the sales and the promotions, she even influenced me to get Eeyore the pink color I was talking of (the red spiky tail was my idea… it came free) ! Said that will look better on your sister’s bedtime story book…and what not…oh yeah, you’re saying that worked? Who asked for your opinion? I’m talking here. It is my Cinderella story!
But besides streaks of silver, she also has had some very prominent streaks of luck.
You know the whole story don’t you? How Passion of the Christ was actually behind this all? So God didn’t like what his young son was up to and asked him to go ahead and make it on his own. Along came Jesus, handsome young Capricorn with a warm smile that could win you over in a jiffy! And so that’s what happened, he bagged a job at Santa’s workshop in the Nilgiri-s its sort of south west of where Santa lived in northern Myanmar. As Jesus was working his way out of his teenage rebel mode, Grand-Daddy Clause was working his way up in the market share in the toy business… Then one day, God took his son back, all grateful to Santa how well, he had trained his son. God gifted Santa the huge workshop at North Pole. So Mom and her family moved west. Now you know, beneath the frost bite its all brown skin… no matter how much she’s known as the Wicked Witch of the West, she will always be the Eastern brain, the slanted eyes, the brown skin. No wonder, half the egg-ditched, abandoned world is brown and jaundiced yellow, with slanted eyes. Us too. Yeah, me, Cinderella… your darling Snow White’s twin is brown… makes me wonder what Snow White really is…Mud Brown? ‘Mud Brown’ that’s what they called her in school and she got all worked up. I just laughed. I sat with the youngest of the dwarfs in the lunchroom and laughed. Why did it matter to her? Didn’t matter to me!
So yeah after all this being inflicted on poor Maddy Muddy, my Mom was back to take charge of her daughters’ lives… ‘Okay’ I said, like I cared. Maddy Mud put up a fight. I calmed her down. ‘ Gave her a pinch of her apple. That’s all you need to do; a little apple a day keeps the madness away… ha ha now you know.
But she wasn’t really back to take charge of us, she was here to build her own army and Maddy Mud was hopeless at that. So I took it up with vigor. I like that sort of stuff you know. We charged to Put-in-dump. They were having island celebrations for ‘Christmas in July’. Now the whole gift giving thing, Grand-Daddy Clause started it so he could express his gratitude to God and Jesus for his business boom and he did it on Jesus’ birthday. Who gave them the authority to move it to July? If they want it warmer go live in the southern hemisphere…don’t you change dates to suit your needs!
Durga was complaining about it too in her email the other day. I first met Durga when she came as an exchange student for the damnation class I took. Our clicking was like instant coffee. Probably because we were both coffee-colored and had a thing about not wearing pink and keeping toe-nails unpainted…! Yeah I have that sort of conversation with her. Real trivial stuff that we both hate with a vigor that’s rare, I hear it’s popular with the female crowd now. Strange. Never thought I would set trends among the ‘Cosmopolitan’ reading thickets.
Now her (Durga) situation, I don’t get it all, but as much as I do, these people from the east will go and live all around the world and reschedule the festivals according to their schedules because they love the yens and pounds they earn and cant stand up to their white, white-collared bosses to say ‘screw you guys I’m going home’ (I love Eric Cartman) so they make her come to town on weekends! When she’d rather be catching up on sleep…she has 4 children, a nutcase husband and an obscene number of pets… they obviously don't believe in controlling numbers!
Its something like that and I tell her, fight it, but I don’t think she will… upto her twin now, she says… chop off a couple heads I say, hang them near the cave window like those 40 thieves did, but no, Kali prefers to carry it around...Okay okay, don’t cringe; she wouldn’t kill a dinosaur… that’s something I will do, Achilles. I will, for your peace and mine.
....(to be continued)
For Part II go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-2.html
I am not your regular Cinderella.
And if I have to be, for fantasy purposes of getting you through the day, you, Achilles, you have to be the Dinosaur that I would slay. Hopping on a hoofed-up, steroid pumping, pink pony with a red devil spiky tail, I will slay you.
That pony is dressed to suit your little sister’s bedtime story book and the color on her walls but inside it’s just a soul-wounded, young, tiger cub.
The kind of fat kid that the kinds of handsome Simba bully in the community jungle-ground. As if having Lion King as Dad and a charmer baby-face with imploring puppy eyes could buy Sly Simba anything beyond Broadway dough. But yeah, as much as you realize the truth and read between his whiskers, these clever Simba-s are born winners. They effortlessly glide through life and you can only hope in your dark dreams (like Eeyore does) that they fall off a cliff somewhere or burn…
...Ah! I see, you thought Eeyore was the tail-tied donkey from Winnie the Pooh, eh? Wrong again! He’s a ‘tongue-tied’ young tiger, I repeat, not the happy ones like Tigger jumping on his rear; but the 'seemingly' resigned, quite ones that has friends who are way too dumb to realize what is bothering him. The light headed lot of ale pumping friends.
But hey, that’s why he left them and came to me for a job (and a life); and well, I needed someone too. My old, fairy-blue, hybrid pumpkin-carriage was starting to get a drinking problem and you know how every summer beverage prices shoot up, its hard to keep up with this economy I tell you. Yes dumb*** I am not your regular Cinderella, painting my toenails on your window sill.
I needed someone who’d carry me around, talk to my schizophrenic evil twin....oh okay fine, not my twin… see, I call her a twin and her? She calls me a manifestation of her sickness (and that is when medicated….) at other times, its like I don't even exist!
It (her ‘pharmacy abuse’) all started with the bright green patulin coated apple that Eve, our step-mother sent her. I told her, "you got apple you gotta make pie and mail it to the return address". But no, she ate it in perfect size00 proportions! She should know better; especially since Eve already did that to her ex, Adam…yeah, she wanted a lot, Adam oblivious to the wants and ‘vices’ of femme nature... she was soon bored and that’s when she met my father (poor Adam, still doesn’t get what hit him!)
…Now my father is a different man--a doting, obsessed individual I tell you, more of a father-figure than a father really…that too, to our youngest cousin, the Little Mermaid. Its all about fish and fins, aroma therapy and yoga... he spends half his royal court-time is his retreat kingdom under the sea! Get that!
And we, figments of Bedtime Fairy land are not allowed mothers for some obscure reasons. Our mothers lay the eggs and off they fly on a broom so high! And our Doting Daddy-s remarry to get us our Evil Eve Step mothers.
Now this boy Adam, I’ve always had a thing for him. That is before he shed his Tarzan colored khakis for the white dog-collar (the apple I tell you!). He used to dig my sort of poetry and expressionist art stuff that the likes of you will never get. I forgive you for that. He was all lyrically elusive, the kind whose abuse the likes of me soak in and gobble down by the kilo, with a vinaigrette dressing and cherry....
My kind of masochistic, un-pink, Cinderella-s.
So yeah coming back to Eeyore, he’s the kind that took the long hard way to the top, his top, to actually be my personamate. I don’t know if that’s a word in your dictionary but the grade-school I went to gave me a bonus 0.2 grade point for coining this in my damnation letter-competition.
Eeyore was the one who introduced us remember? At the country fair grounds where I rallied against ‘Christmas in July’….what a concept seriously! I left bed-bugs in the rented clothes, the kids got huge big rashes and boils…Oh what a sight! It still cracks me up. It’s funny until someone gets hurt and then it becomes hilarious. Calvin, the neighbor kid, the one that ended up marrying Susie after high school (remember Susie?) used to say something like this. Hobbes used to talk about him ALL the time, all the time… he’d sit by the dumpster there and chat with Eeyore about what Calvin would say and what he’d do and how weirdly funny his parents were (like we didn’t know)…. But Eeyore didn’t know... so he enjoyed; and not only that, the entrepreneur that he is, he did this new thing on Facebook where he had these up as quotes…yeah, whatever! you aren’t listening I can tell…. I know you’re primitive, you’re a dinosaur! Not only do you wag like one, you think like one too. Catch up, I tell you, catch up or I’ll slay you. Smack you on your head with the new omelet maker Mom gave me….
Oops. Okay so now you know Mom’s back. After having a fulfilling egg-ditching session of 30 prime years, one fine afternoon, she parked her broom on our palace grounds and strode in on her bright red slippers, all gadgety and sharp. Gadgety …now that’s from Grand-Daddy Clause! Ah, her dark flowing hair promising some silver underneath... oh! how awesome that will look with her brown, frowning skin. And sharp, oh my, she’s the Marketing Guru for the biggest toy company on earth she’s hovering over their shoulders to make the sales and the promotions, she even influenced me to get Eeyore the pink color I was talking of (the red spiky tail was my idea… it came free) ! Said that will look better on your sister’s bedtime story book…and what not…oh yeah, you’re saying that worked? Who asked for your opinion? I’m talking here. It is my Cinderella story!
But besides streaks of silver, she also has had some very prominent streaks of luck.
You know the whole story don’t you? How Passion of the Christ was actually behind this all? So God didn’t like what his young son was up to and asked him to go ahead and make it on his own. Along came Jesus, handsome young Capricorn with a warm smile that could win you over in a jiffy! And so that’s what happened, he bagged a job at Santa’s workshop in the Nilgiri-s its sort of south west of where Santa lived in northern Myanmar. As Jesus was working his way out of his teenage rebel mode, Grand-Daddy Clause was working his way up in the market share in the toy business… Then one day, God took his son back, all grateful to Santa how well, he had trained his son. God gifted Santa the huge workshop at North Pole. So Mom and her family moved west. Now you know, beneath the frost bite its all brown skin… no matter how much she’s known as the Wicked Witch of the West, she will always be the Eastern brain, the slanted eyes, the brown skin. No wonder, half the egg-ditched, abandoned world is brown and jaundiced yellow, with slanted eyes. Us too. Yeah, me, Cinderella… your darling Snow White’s twin is brown… makes me wonder what Snow White really is…Mud Brown?
So yeah after all this being inflicted on poor Maddy Muddy, my Mom was back to take charge of her daughters’ lives… ‘Okay’ I said, like I cared. Maddy Mud put up a fight. I calmed her down. ‘ Gave her a pinch of her apple. That’s all you need to do; a little apple a day keeps the madness away… ha ha now you know.
But she wasn’t really back to take charge of us, she was here to build her own army and Maddy Mud was hopeless at that. So I took it up with vigor. I like that sort of stuff you know. We charged to Put-in-dump. They were having island celebrations for ‘Christmas in July’. Now the whole gift giving thing, Grand-Daddy Clause started it so he could express his gratitude to God and Jesus for his business boom and he did it on Jesus’ birthday. Who gave them the authority to move it to July? If they want it warmer go live in the southern hemisphere…don’t you change dates to suit your needs!
Durga was complaining about it too in her email the other day. I first met Durga when she came as an exchange student for the damnation class I took. Our clicking was like instant coffee. Probably because we were both coffee-colored and had a thing about not wearing pink and keeping toe-nails unpainted…! Yeah I have that sort of conversation with her. Real trivial stuff that we both hate with a vigor that’s rare, I hear it’s popular with the female crowd now. Strange. Never thought I would set trends among the ‘Cosmopolitan’ reading thickets.
Now her (Durga) situation, I don’t get it all, but as much as I do, these people from the east will go and live all around the world and reschedule the festivals according to their schedules because they love the yens and pounds they earn and cant stand up to their white, white-collared bosses to say ‘screw you guys I’m going home’ (I love Eric Cartman) so they make her come to town on weekends! When she’d rather be catching up on sleep…she has 4 children, a nutcase husband and an obscene number of pets… they obviously don't believe in controlling numbers!
Its something like that and I tell her, fight it, but I don’t think she will… upto her twin now, she says… chop off a couple heads I say, hang them near the cave window like those 40 thieves did, but no, Kali prefers to carry it around...Okay okay, don’t cringe; she wouldn’t kill a dinosaur… that’s something I will do, Achilles. I will, for your peace and mine.
....(to be continued)
For Part II go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-2.html
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