I recently discovered that one of the many random cable channels we have is the Tennis Channel (455) and I'm loving it. They've been showing repeats of the 2007 Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony with Pete Sampras and other great players. I knew he was a sensitive guy, but sheesh the man needed to get a grip...he was crying buckets five seconds into his speech! Normally, I get misty-eyed when seeing others cry, but Pete's was overly weepy to the point of embarassing..still love him!
I remember wanting to emulate Pete and Steffi Graf. They were such classy and quietly confident players. When Tilly and I were younger and in our badminton phase, we'd pretend we were playing tennis and I'd always make her the second-ranked player and she would oblige without question. So in our games I was Steffi and she was Martina. This sort of behavior spilled into other pretend games (to the misfortune of Tilly. In retrospect, I was quite mean wasn't I?). For example, if we were playing "Power Rangers" I would be the Yellow ranger (Trini) who was superior in skill and mind while I would relegate Til to the ditzy, kumbaya-loving Pink Ranger (Kimberly). If we were pretending to be lifeguards on "Baywatch" I would be the swifter Stephanie while she would be the novice Summer. Yes, we played "Baywatch." Many a summer day was spent leaping from our couches (the lifeguard towers) to the floor (the beach/water).
The U.S. Open starts tomorrow and I'm looking forward to watching. I imagine if we revisited our childhood today, I would be Federer and you would be...Nadal? ;)
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Boiling Points
At the moment, I'm asking myself the same question Su pondered in one of her posts: Why is that the people you love hurt you the most?
I've often regretted my decision to go to grad school without getting in a solid few years of working in the "real world." It wasn't something I wanted to pursue as a resume builder but it was the desire to experience independence - particularly economically. I hate that I must feel constantly dependent on others, burdening them while feeling guilty when they remind me of that dependence. This past year has made me crave freedom in a way I've never felt. Sometimes that craving drives me mad and makes me act stupidly, brazenly and immaturely. Yesterday was an example of me reaching such a boiling point; I'll spare the details since I don't have the energy to expound on it. Even my original feelings and thoughts about marriage have changed. I once viewed it as this stage that strips you of your identity. Considering my status now, though, it appears to be more liberating than suffocating. Of course that's all conditional on the person and the circumstances.
After 23 years of living, this is not where I envisioned my life. I imagine most people feel the same but in your own little world it still feels like you're the lonely peg trying to figure things out and when you think you've reached a breakthrough, something comes along to snatch it away; whether it be your own pride or someone else's insecurity.
Insecurities. I'm tired of feeling them and I'm tired of others projecting them. Most of my life has been lived timidly and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being stifled. I'm tired of my foxhole. I'm tired and saddened by people you love trusting strangers rather than you. I'm tired of having to scratch at every wall to be heard. I'm tired of feeling apprehensive. I'm tired of lacking confidence and harboring a low self-esteem. I'm tired of walking on eggshells. I'm tired of my temper. I'm tired of being burned and burning others. I'm tired of miscommunication and false dignity. I'm tired of repetition. Its 2am and I'm still tired, but not sleepy.
I often wonder where I would be had I led my life differently, had I led a double life like so many others I know - keeping secrets from their parents, doing God knows what, where and with whom, being superficial. Yet having not done those things, I am *illogically* the one to mistrust. Somehow I believe that had I engaged in those things, the me that would have been shaped by it all would be more accepted by family, by society. The ends would have justified the means.
I apologize for all this incoherent rambling. I couldn't sleep out of a smoldering rage so I figured venting via writing would help. I guess it has. Maybe. But this kind of stuff doesn't go away, does it?
I've often regretted my decision to go to grad school without getting in a solid few years of working in the "real world." It wasn't something I wanted to pursue as a resume builder but it was the desire to experience independence - particularly economically. I hate that I must feel constantly dependent on others, burdening them while feeling guilty when they remind me of that dependence. This past year has made me crave freedom in a way I've never felt. Sometimes that craving drives me mad and makes me act stupidly, brazenly and immaturely. Yesterday was an example of me reaching such a boiling point; I'll spare the details since I don't have the energy to expound on it. Even my original feelings and thoughts about marriage have changed. I once viewed it as this stage that strips you of your identity. Considering my status now, though, it appears to be more liberating than suffocating. Of course that's all conditional on the person and the circumstances.
After 23 years of living, this is not where I envisioned my life. I imagine most people feel the same but in your own little world it still feels like you're the lonely peg trying to figure things out and when you think you've reached a breakthrough, something comes along to snatch it away; whether it be your own pride or someone else's insecurity.
Insecurities. I'm tired of feeling them and I'm tired of others projecting them. Most of my life has been lived timidly and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being stifled. I'm tired of my foxhole. I'm tired and saddened by people you love trusting strangers rather than you. I'm tired of having to scratch at every wall to be heard. I'm tired of feeling apprehensive. I'm tired of lacking confidence and harboring a low self-esteem. I'm tired of walking on eggshells. I'm tired of my temper. I'm tired of being burned and burning others. I'm tired of miscommunication and false dignity. I'm tired of repetition. Its 2am and I'm still tired, but not sleepy.
I often wonder where I would be had I led my life differently, had I led a double life like so many others I know - keeping secrets from their parents, doing God knows what, where and with whom, being superficial. Yet having not done those things, I am *illogically* the one to mistrust. Somehow I believe that had I engaged in those things, the me that would have been shaped by it all would be more accepted by family, by society. The ends would have justified the means.
I apologize for all this incoherent rambling. I couldn't sleep out of a smoldering rage so I figured venting via writing would help. I guess it has. Maybe. But this kind of stuff doesn't go away, does it?
Monday, August 20, 2007
Picnic Camp Part Deux
The Before. A deflated tent:
Inside the tent without sleeping bags *yet*:
Roasting the marshmallows:
Shmooores!!!
She once was lost, but was eventually found! And moi (looking sleepy):
More to come!
Inside the tent without sleeping bags *yet*:
Roasting the marshmallows:
Shmooores!!!
She once was lost, but was eventually found! And moi (looking sleepy):
More to come!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Picnic Camp २००७!
Pics from Governor's Island. More to come!
Our arrival:
Tire horses and abandoned homes:
Our picnic spread. It was full of international cuisine...tofu rice balls to good ol' Apple Pie!
Su's beautiful, colorful kite! We'll fly it longer one day.
The picnic participants (sans Colleenus)
Our arrival:
Tire horses and abandoned homes:
Our picnic spread. It was full of international cuisine...tofu rice balls to good ol' Apple Pie!
Su's beautiful, colorful kite! We'll fly it longer one day.
The picnic participants (sans Colleenus)
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Happy Independence Day, India!
Jana Gana Mana Adhinayaka Jaya He
Bharat Bhagya Vidhata
Punjab Sindh Gujarat Maratha
Dravida Utkala Banga
Vindhya Himachal Yamuna Ganga
Ucchala Jaladhi Taranga
Tubh Shubha Name Jage
Tubh Shubha Ashisha Mange
Gahe Tubh Jaya Gata
Jan Gan Mangaldayak Jay He
Bharat Bhagya Vidhata
Jaye He ! Jaye He ! Jaye He !
Jaye,Jaye,Jaye,Jaye He.
Bharat Bhagya Vidhata
Punjab Sindh Gujarat Maratha
Dravida Utkala Banga
Vindhya Himachal Yamuna Ganga
Ucchala Jaladhi Taranga
Tubh Shubha Name Jage
Tubh Shubha Ashisha Mange
Gahe Tubh Jaya Gata
Jan Gan Mangaldayak Jay He
Bharat Bhagya Vidhata
Jaye He ! Jaye He ! Jaye He !
Jaye,Jaye,Jaye,Jaye He.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Blissfully Bored
When I was younger, I used to crave for days off from school just to sleep in and not think. Its strange but these days I'm slowly beginning to feel the opposite. I'm kind of happy that I'm the type of person who isn't satisfied in staying stagnant, but by no means does that mean I'm a busybody. Normally, having a vacation from school just for a month would have elicited groans and grumpiness. Although I'm not looking forward to 2L, I do look forward to finally working and earning a living. Money truly is a portal to independence!
I think I inherited my dad's restlesness in not wanting to stay at home when I get a day off. These days though, he's slowed down considerably which is kind of sad. Growing up, I wished my parents had let us kids experience the outdoors more and allowed us to get involved with extracurricular activities. Sometimes they regret it too! Oh well.
Boredom tickles my imagination. Last night I dreamed that I enrolled at Hogwarts and met Harry Potter. I hate it when I can't remember the rest of my dreams.
Tilly and I act quite silly when we are alone. For example, we've been feeding our tennis addiction by watching all the major tournaments on ESPN. Yesterday we were watching the Rogers Classic in Montreal, rooting for Federer and Djokovic. We started imitating how the players reacted when winning a point and ultimately claiming victory. We even did it in slow motion.
I'm glad that we can retain our childhood goofiness. Yesterday's episode reminded me of another theatrical exhibition we put on in 1996 during the Atlanta Olympics. That was the year of Kerri Strugg and the Women's Gymnastics "Dream Team." Because we are big gymnastics fans, and because that year in general was particularly extraordinary, we decided to stage our own version of the "Dream Team." We'd run across our living room floor, leap onto the sofa, perform some sort of retarded twirl, land on our feet (perfectly together) and raise our hands in the signature gymnast's pose with a wide grin and assign ourselves scores. Our competitiveness soon went haywire as we started using the sofa (and other furniture) more aggressively such that on the last magical night of the Olympics, one of us pretended the couch was a pommel horse to the degree that the springs gave way and a giant vacant hole was left underneath the cushion. Panicked, we attempted to fix the problem by placing a wooden board on top of the hole so that anyone who sat there wouldn't sink into the couch. Because that wasn't enough, for a month we managed to prevent our parents from sitting on that sectional. Eventually of course, my dad found out and reprimanded us, Nidhiche found it amusing (and was glad that she wouldn't get in trouble for our follies for once), and my mom got a freebee to tease us.
So here we are, full-circle. Another summer, eleven years later, and we can still manage to make endearing fools of ourselves in front of our parents. To memories!
I think I inherited my dad's restlesness in not wanting to stay at home when I get a day off. These days though, he's slowed down considerably which is kind of sad. Growing up, I wished my parents had let us kids experience the outdoors more and allowed us to get involved with extracurricular activities. Sometimes they regret it too! Oh well.
Boredom tickles my imagination. Last night I dreamed that I enrolled at Hogwarts and met Harry Potter. I hate it when I can't remember the rest of my dreams.
Tilly and I act quite silly when we are alone. For example, we've been feeding our tennis addiction by watching all the major tournaments on ESPN. Yesterday we were watching the Rogers Classic in Montreal, rooting for Federer and Djokovic. We started imitating how the players reacted when winning a point and ultimately claiming victory. We even did it in slow motion.
I'm glad that we can retain our childhood goofiness. Yesterday's episode reminded me of another theatrical exhibition we put on in 1996 during the Atlanta Olympics. That was the year of Kerri Strugg and the Women's Gymnastics "Dream Team." Because we are big gymnastics fans, and because that year in general was particularly extraordinary, we decided to stage our own version of the "Dream Team." We'd run across our living room floor, leap onto the sofa, perform some sort of retarded twirl, land on our feet (perfectly together) and raise our hands in the signature gymnast's pose with a wide grin and assign ourselves scores. Our competitiveness soon went haywire as we started using the sofa (and other furniture) more aggressively such that on the last magical night of the Olympics, one of us pretended the couch was a pommel horse to the degree that the springs gave way and a giant vacant hole was left underneath the cushion. Panicked, we attempted to fix the problem by placing a wooden board on top of the hole so that anyone who sat there wouldn't sink into the couch. Because that wasn't enough, for a month we managed to prevent our parents from sitting on that sectional. Eventually of course, my dad found out and reprimanded us, Nidhiche found it amusing (and was glad that she wouldn't get in trouble for our follies for once), and my mom got a freebee to tease us.
So here we are, full-circle. Another summer, eleven years later, and we can still manage to make endearing fools of ourselves in front of our parents. To memories!
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Sonnet 23
As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Grieg, Dvorak and Mozart!
Those are just some of the composers that I got to listen to when I visited the mall the other day. The Adelphia Arts Academy here in Philly hosts a summer music program for inner-city intermediate and high school students. Here they are on the right. I tried to be discrete when I took the picture from my camera phone.
These kids were superb!! Watching them made me long for playing the violin again. It also made me sad about the state of education in NYC. Cutting arts and music budgets does such a disservice to schools. I know I greatly benefited from being in a band/ chorus. Its just a natural way to gain mental skills and develop camraderies and learn how to work as a team. Plus it keeps kids driven, focused and out of trouble - especially for these kids who don't particularly grow up in the most comfortable neighborhoods. I'm glad I went on a random shopping excursion that day. I truly witnessed something wonderful.
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