Found it!

Put A Penny In The Slot

For ages i've been trying to find this song. All i knew was that it plays in the bg in Jerry Maguire when he slips her strap off on the doorstep. Useless people (read Salvatore) that I requested should source the music for me got me Secret Garden and Aimee Mann instead. They're good songs but i wanted this.

It's the gentlest, softest piece of music ever. It's called Singalong Junk by Paul McCartney.

With Hand on Heart

Last night I read Sophie Kinsella’s “Can you keep a secret?” It’s basically about a girl who thinks she’s going to die in a plane crash and ends up spilling her guts to the guy on the next seat. It’s chicklit so obviously he’s the hero. She doesn’t have any secrets that will change the face of national security or even break up a marriage… they’re mostly inconsequential like she lies about her weight or she broke her bosses coffee mug or she doesn’t like jazz. But really it’s the small things that define us. The book was okay but it made me think of my secrets. Now I’m not dying today as far as I know so I’m just going to push the edge a bit not jump off it.
I…
1. …wear Sky’s clothes, come home, iron them and put them back in the cupboard so that she doesn’t have the right to borrow mine.
2. …swapped one of Titania’s favourite books for a book I really wanted and she still goes crazy trying to remember who she lent it too.
3. … have a favourite Mills and Boon author.
4. …have a fabulous memory and sometimes let people think that I remember because I care.
5. …didn’t give my seat to an old woman on the bus and tried to justify it.
6. …fell asleep through Citizen Kane.
7. …once spotted an old crush and sneaked away from a hotel because I was looking like shit.
8. …pretend to be asleep when I don’t want to be disturbed in the middle of a book.
9. …can’t stop myself from keeping track of the tiniest amount of debt owed by me or to me.
10. …am a total pushover. I don’t know how to say no.
11. …love dancing to Ricky Martin’s La Bomba.
12. …’ve never smoked up, lied to my parents or been attracted to anyone.
13. …would like to be attracted to someone and have my feet knocked off the ground.
14. …cried with joy watching a tennis match.
15. ...felt guilty when Cykie died and I got over it so fast.
16. …am not comfortable with special children.
17. …lie all the time about being at work to get out of partying.
Maybe I’ll get more personal next time.

Know Thy Goddesses

t for trivia
I’m lying on my bed and pretending to be a cold bunch of grapes. But Sky stops me from fermenting. She plonks herself down and goes on and on about something.
“so then.. I don’t know what he means…”
…”had a fantastic meeting today…”
“… that’s a masterpiece scene Sky, sir said…”
“… have to go to a Saraswati temple tomorrow…”
There’s a pause so I come out of my fog.
“What?”
“Do you know any Saraswati temple?”
I am bewildered, “No.” I say as if it’s strange to ask. And it really is. Sky asking anyone else directions to temples is a little absurd. She’s probably visited every God in the vicinity.
“Fine. Then a temple that has a Saraswati idol?”
Now I’m roused, “no.” Emphatic. Then to stress, “I don’t even know what a Saraswati idol looks like.”
It’s her turn to look astounded. “you don’t!”
She looks so shocked like Mr. and Mrs. H have failed in some way that I hasten to add, “I mean if I look at one I’ll know it’s Her but just from memory… she holds a book right?” I’m quickly putting things together in my head – Saraswati, we pray to her on dussehra when Mrs. H makes us put out all our books and music and paints and creative things for blessings in the puja. So I figure book is a good guess.
“No! she hold a veena.”
“Well... doesn’t one of her hands hold a book?” I plead.
“No.” Sky says drily.
“Oh. Ok. She should hold a book then. She’s our Goddess of intellect and creativity right?”
“the Veena is a sign of creative gifts. You really can’t tell your Goddesses apart.”
“I really can’t tell our Goddesses apart. I mean the Gods are easy. Shiv’s got a third eye. Ram looks goody goody, Ganesha has a well... trunk and Krishna’s Krishna. The ladies all look alike.”
Sky still looks like a dear stuck in headlights.
“Sarawati wears a white sari with a red border and holds a Veena with usually a peacock near her. Laxmi stands on a lotus with two of her hands holding a lotus each and a third one pointing palm down showering coins. Durga is usually on a tiger.”
“I like tigers,” I say to shut her up, “I don’t know if a subjugated tiger is good representation of the dwindling tiger wildlife.”
Sky leaves my room and I return to being fruity.

The Lives of Others

Quickie: Watch it even if you don’t usually watch foreign films.
Yada Yada:
Before the fall of the Berlin Wall citizens in East Germany were strictly monitored by the Stasi- secret police. Very few people are above this kind of interference in the private lives and playwright Georg Dreyman is one of them. But when a corrupt politician falls for Georg’s actress girlfriend he is put under surveillance too. His house is bugged. An upright and stringent Captain of the Stasi is in charge of the operation. As the captain eavesdrops on Georg and Christa he becomes increasingly involved in their lives and begins to question his own leading to life altering events for all three of them.
I love the way the 3 characters have been formed. Each one of them makes a marked transition in the duration of the film. Their decisions may not surprise or shock but you feel each one.
Okay... I’m itching to say things that’ll be spoilers. Just watch for a compact drama.
Length: about 2 hrs 20 mins

Michael Clayton

Quickie: Not worth the 200 bucks in a theatre. Get a DVD.
Yada Yada:
MC is an okay film. It’s certainly not deserving of the hype considering that neither the subject nor the treatment is new. The end resolution is surprisingly flat and the turnaround of the kind you see in really simplistic films.
You have a ‘fixer’ who works in a firm of lawyers without actually going to court himself. He’s called either the ‘miracle man’ or the ‘janitor’ but when a senior counsel flips he starts off a chain of events that make Michael question what he’s cleaning up and whether this is what he gave up the courtroom for.
Some angles were rather forced to me – the whole Arthur and Realm + Conquest highlighted notes. That didn’t point Michael is any direction other than get him the bill for the photocopies.
What worked for me were the character and his journey – his debt that needs to be paid off, his relationship with his brother and son, and a certain despair that cloaks him even as he does what he does best.
The person I went with thought that George Clooney was as always – himself. But I disagree. When I watch a Clooney film I know that it’ll turn out alright for him since he’s got such a cocky arrogance. He’s never any other way. You expect him to sail through. This is the first time I felt that things aren’t going to go his way.
Watch it when the movie scene is dull. Right now there’s too much happening in theaters for Michael Clayton to be top of your list.
Length: 2 hours

Ready Or Not... Here She Comes!

I went for Penelope’s baby shower. Her due date is 18th march 2008.
Her baby’s Godmother Taz threw a shower. There was wine and gifts and biryani but no games! I went expecting a bonafide baby shower with nappy changing games and guess-what-the-suspicious-goo-in-the-bag-is kind of party. I was disappointed. Penny said that since I want to do indulge in such entertainment I can turn up at her place for the real thing. I decline since I’m not stupid really. The high entertainment of the shower was when one of Penny’s friends threw a fit on discovering that she wasn’t the baby’s godmother. Hahha. I enjoyed that show. She was so perturbed she even banged into a glass door.
But that aside we did sing songs for the baby. Unfortunately everything has a pervert’s version now.
Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
God knows what they did up there
But they came down with a daughter.
But I guess our kids will need to know what to watch out for. So no going with Jack up the hill all alone with your hands tied up with a bucket.
I have a whole list of things I’m going to put my baby through in the belly.

1. Read Atlas Shrugged again
2. Read Wuthering Heights again
3. Sing silly songs with words of my own making “the tigers had a brandy fix when the animals went in six by six.” I love tigers.
4. Kiss my husband an awful lot
5. Shout “10000 blistering barnacles” and wave a pretend sword whenever someone annoys me. Note the gradual change in the violence of my abuses.
6. Paint, play with paint. Enjoy colour and then enjoy darkness.
7. Have everyone say something to the kid. Anything at all. Paris will refuse I know but she must. Alanis will talk the baby’s little bum off. Eve can be big sister and studiously give the latest book dope. Salvatore can groan and grumble. Piper will ask me to shut my ears and Sky will be unabashedly corny. Mars can scoff but the baby must hear them talking.
8. Take a holiday to a cool place where there are many pretty paths to wander by. Take those walks. Sit on a bench. Look at new things.
9. Do something that gets the adrenaline rushing – like bungee jump (not allowed me thinks) or go to a Tennis match. Experience something overwhelming.

Okay I cut short my list here to announce that Penny had a baby girl 18 days before her time. She is tagged Baby no. 6 by the hospital and Nandini by her dad. She’s a cute little thing but looks suspiciously like baby no.4 and 5 to me. It really must be easy to swap babies in hospitals. Maybe I’ll inherit some money yet.

The Silver Eel
– A Film Watcher’s Guide to What to Watch and What to Slip Out of.
(Because no film worth it’s salt has no tag line) (e.g. Shabd – The word)

Someone pointed out that I’ve been watching quite a few animated films recently. I caught Enchanted, saw Miyazaki’s Spirited Away (which I recommend to all), caught Paprika (which I fell asleep through) and downloaded Grave of the Fireflies (which I hear is great). Well… it’s quite by chance. I’m just re-committing to my filmy career and planning to catch everything I can. So I made a list of must watch films from recent times–

1. The lives of others
2. No country for old men
3. Killers of sheep
4. Atonement
5. Sweeny Todd – the Demon Barber of Fleet Street
6. Persepolis
7. No End in Sight
8. In the Valley of Elah
9. Waitress
10. Michael Clayton
11. Before the Devil knows you’re Dead
12. There will be Blood
13. Dan in Real Life
14. Juno

As I check off on the list I’ll develop some review system to point you guys in the right direction. After all you haven’t committed yourselves to films. (Significant background music here).

To See or Not To See

Put A Penny In The Slot

Music is a very visual medium to me. If a song doesn’t give me an idea of how I’d shoot it, dance it, see it wafting through smoke or falling clear with rain then I just end up switching to the next number.
Here’s a list of numbers from among many that are just seeped in grocery shopping, curved handled canes, sex, top hats, purple silk dresses, legs kicking up gently while walking on a street, exultation and all that jazz.
1. Green Hornet by Al Hirt
2. New York New York by Frank Sinatra
3. Between the Bars by Madeleine Peyroux
4. Sinking Soon by Norah Jones
5. Take Five by Dave Brubeck

Herald of New Intentions

t for trivia

For some time now Piper has been at me about how the blog has not been living up to its promise of being about everything and everyone. And I find that it’s true. There were supposed to be movie reviews and music reccos and must reads and… Like I said in the first post - I spend so much time trying to make everything special and important that I lose the plot. Well... no more. As promised, the blog will be random and regular and about all thoughts and opinions.
So let me begin with some Trivia that I picked up yesterday –
I was chatting with Mrs. H and there is a statue in the room of a man on a horse with forefeet in the air. Mr. H said it was Shivaji but Mrs. H said it can’t be. And then with superiority she asked, tell me why this can’t be Shivaji.”
I looked from my prone angle and said, “He’s got a lance and his turban is different.”
Mrs. H tells us something interesting. “When a man dies a natural death, the status has all the hooves of the horse on the ground. When a man dies of battlefield wounds but not on the field, one foot up and one down. And when he dies on the battlefield both feet fly.”Shivaji died of wounds received on the battlefield but not on it.

So the wedding evening arrives and we go to help Jane get ready. Ostensibly. We actually end up blitzkreiging her with camera flashes and make ourselves useful by feeding her and helping her cousins do up their saris and drapes. Jane was quirky as usual.. no shadow of tension on her, or atleast none relating to getting into a lifelong commitment. She had more earthly worries - toget the perfect balance between being a Punjabi and Kashmiri bride.

We don't know if she hit it to her satisfaction but we thought she was beautiful. That's Corey in the bg taking the sanp. She's a professional. Our Bride is captured and waiting.

And Bingley arrives. On the horse weighed down by a silver crown and a garland of ten rupee notes (one of which i stole as souvenir). He was happy and dancing and most importantly... before time.

Corey joined the baraatis....

... and danced with the more than ready wife-to-be.

As Jane and Bingley got wed, we got fed and tried to keep ourselves close to the fires. It was a middle of the night wedding in Capital's winter. We shivered and sneaked out to the car park for medicinal alcoholic intake.

That's all us girls at the wedding bar Jane who was busy -

Getting married.
All the best to two people who are like babes in the woods. Warm hearted, generous, naiive, sweet and worrying to all those who love them.

Happy married life.

Back from Surajkhand we indulged in a bit of R & R. Bee and I got out nail polish only to inspire a revolution. The conversation wandered around to French manicures and the MEN summarily dismissed the beauty of it as 'paying good money to make your nails look more like nails... pink and white.' We groaned.
Dundee and Mr. George decided that the nail industry lacks imagination and soon i was being used as a celebrity promotional client. (Read: guinea pig). Armed with his Swiss army knife and an array of polishes Dundee proceeded to paint faces and landscapes (cough) on my nails. i do have a close up but i'm sparing you guys.

Then we headed out to The Groom's Cocktail Party... better called the Gadda and Whisky Fest. We had a hous eto ourselves and a chef. Starters appeared at a blink and you inhale food rate and we drank away. The night was cold and we were warm. We drank to Bingley....

... and ragged him a bit. Question-Answer Round.
D: You guys done it yet?
B: You can't start with the one crore question.. you got to start with a grand.
hmmm.. he has a point.
D: When did you first know you liked Jane?
B: At the alumni meet.
(he claims he doesn't remember the song playing. We don't really believe him.)
We taped it all for the Bride. And also passed on a message from her - Be On Time.

The excesses of the night before forgotten and with true adventurous spirit.. we got on the road again.. this time for the Surajkhand Mela. Varying reports told us it was 'far', 'very far', 'mayhem', 'madness' but we had resolved to go.

On reaching Surajkhand we came up with a plan in case of anyone getting lost or wandering away from the others. We would meet under this archway. Dundee disappeared half way thru the plan and the rest of us stuck together anyway.

There was performers ina every segment of the mela.. singing or dancing or both or performing with puppets. These Rajasthani women were fabulous in their dazzling colors and dervish whirls. I never have a camera. If i did what fascinated me most about them were their feet. They were lined and lined and lined not just on the sole but also up front. And so beautiful with their thick anklets and those lines of dance.

This was one of many transformed rickshaws roaming the place. Little kiddies were taking rides but surprisingly it didn't strike me to take one. I am now desolate at the missed opportunity. I'd have been horse riding! It's so jazzy.

This was a mask shop. I loved the sadhu.

And this burst of colours was a shop of window hangings and stick puppets. There camels that had every joint moving so that at one instead of stooping to sit it was as if the camel is beheaded. And there was Hanuman and Ravan (both of whom Dundee purchased). The paper is translucent and coloured so that it's like stained paper art and you stick it on your window and it slooks pretty. I decided that when i have kids i'll have one window in their room with different art in each pane - so Ravan and al elephant and a horse and all that. Only later when i met Dundee he tells me that the translucent material is not thick paper oiled over as i had thought but rather goat skin!!!! Ack.

Wandering about the expansive grounds we came upon this man selling jaljeera. He was performing for his audience with panache and flare and a mechanically fluid grace in the selling of his wares. We went back to him when we got thirst again.

There was this huge bunch of students with their faces painted posing for photographs. I think they were addressing issues. The girl with the pink wings is i think a statement on the girl child as an angel.

And finally... there was this man with his magic movie machine. And i'd see a fairy tale unfurl with every circle of his and like a wand being waved. Yeah right. He was showing a string of unrelated posters taped together so suddenly there was a chubby baby followed by a film poster and then a valley scene. Sigh. why can't people be a little more enterprising. Is a story too much to ask for? Does anyone know what this machine is called? I think i want one.

The intrepid explorers.. we were ready to set off for the Bride's Cocktail bash with smiles (for her) and hopes (for drink)... little did we know the trials that awaited us.

That's right. We were stuck in TRAFFIC for three and a half hours. Corey asked me to pose for a photo that showed i was bored and miserable. I did.

Bee got the same brief. She is a bad actress. Or actually a good one. She was whining till the flash went off. For the camera she finds smiles. We passed some time watching Dhoom II in the car. I think that made us even more miserable.

This is the cause. We circled the airport for a good hour and a half waiting for Mr. George to land. Delayed. Landed. Delayed. Let's Leave Him (that was obviously me). Finally he came and this is him changing clothes in the backseat of our Innova. (Corey misses the best shots).

The Bride was angry with us for being late.

But she is also a Drama Queen and forgave us in seconds. All she wanted was people to fill the dance floor. And introduce to her dad preferably while still sober.

So dance we did.

Bee took concept shots that only she understands the deep significance of. Kind of like Calvin (of Hobbes fame) saying that when you pander to the clichés and the majority you’re actually mocking them and hence there is true irony in your commercial art. That’s the best I can say about her photography skills. Dundee on the other hand is a better showman. He looks the part of a travelling photographer. His long hair, foreign looks and lack of Hindi certainly helps him in the country. So he wandered up to some bandwallahs loitering around a subway in their best and with trumpets and drums. Dundee asked to take some photos. They agreed with alacrity and soon enough he was surrounded. The photos taken with much smiling and posing with gleaming instruments Dundee turned to leave. One of them band guys says in hindi, “let’s take money from this f%&$er.” Dundee says, “hindi aata hai.” The band wallahs burst into guffaws as they correct him, “aati hai.” But fortunately they let him go.

I was having a great time. This was the first time I’ve been to a wedding where we are spending more time roaming around and getting drunk than attending mehendi’s and sangeets et al. The only downside was that given the size of Capital we hardly saw Jane at any time other than for the have-to-be-attended functions. The first day Dundee picked up Bee, Corey and I. We dumped our luggage and headed to Chandni Chowk by the metro. The magnificence of the new travel system stumped us hicks from different towns. Cesspool can only dream of such space and streamlined traffic. Once at CC we walked around, drank lassi, marveled at the brownness of everything and ended up walking around the Red Fort.

The Beginning of a Deservedly Cheesy Film

Tang tang ta tang tang tang ta tang… Friends continue their walk into matrimony. Audrey (now rechristened Jane) wed her Bingley last weekend. The nuptials were in Capital and a bunch of us friends from college put up together at a flat. I can almost imagine the nostalgia this weekend will evoke in later years.
“Ohh... that was some trip… we missed the main function coz we were stuck in traffic for three hours.”
“God! Remember Gopi and his strange moaning! Dundee thought it was the pigeons.”
“Thank God we found our luggage!”
“But I lost my earrings.”
It’s funny how the hazards of a trip are so much more entertaining than the main event.

How You Doin'?

When I look at photos of Piper’s wedding I cringe to see the facial hair and the gaudy gold on red clothes, the bad haircut and the shararas. But when I think back on it I remember flirting, I remember smiling and holding my own and giggling with Sky over various men. Then somewhere along the way life became serious business. Simple joys like matching wits, exchanging inconsequential’s, charming with no serious intent began to seem like a waste of time. I lost an art that can give almost as much satisfaction as a well finished poem. The force was not with me.
The last weekend I felt some of the old joy seep back in.
I was a bit shy and a little hopeless but I managed. There are two kinds of power – when you don’t care at all and have nothing to lose and when you care and really want something. All I’ve wanted for some years is a fleeting ability to sparkle.
Last weekend at Jane’s wedding to Bingley, I was sharing a room with Bee (newly engaged) and Corey (newly married). They very kindly passed on any and all eligible men in my direction that id didn’t know what to do with. They also shared their knowledge with me.
“Always go in with what you expect, what you’re willing to give up and what you’re not.”
I apply this to my single status and come up with some interesting answers. Hehhe.
That night at the cocktail I got high, kicked up my heels and danced like a mad woman. I could feel the amazement in a few of my old classmates. Bharat says astounded, “How people change.” I’m too lazy to correct him. I don’t think they’ve ever seen me drink, dance or drink and dance.
There’s nothing like high heels and a little shimmy to shake loose the courage in you. If it wasn’t for my hangover I’d have been invincible.
The next night Bee and Corey requested a repeat performance of a bed time story. What little confidence still hid inside me now unfurled. There’s nothing more alluring to a story teller than to find an eager listener. And strangely enough when Bee started snoring in the middle of Kwaku Ananse and the Python I took it as a compliment.
The wedding night arrived. Jane was beautiful if a bit lost. It was a cold night and fires littered the grounds. All of us huddled here and there. When Bee and I stumbled upon Long Haired Hot Cousin Of Bride she pushed me towards him. I was scooping out ice cream for self when he wandered by and started small talk. I indulged in some non verbal communication. He asked for some extra dollops of chocolate sauce and I couldn’t squeeze hard enough. I passed the bottle back to the waiter and sidled away. Bee shut her eyes and shook her head. But I must have done something right (or my backless blouse did) coz LHHCOB came up to me later and started a conversation. Bee grinned and I blushed. In small ways that night I shone a bit. It was pointless but it felt good. I laughed secretly and hugged it close. And when morning came the light stayed. While waiting at the airport for our flight a sweet scene played out. In the midst of the sleepy airport a young man helped me take off my stubborn jhumka.

I re-learnt the pleasure of a moment that doesn’t have to mean anything beyond the moment.

Matthew 21:22 and Luke 11:9

I have nothing to write. I haven’t felt possessed and overtaken by a need to write in a long while. The persons that used me before, the haunted lost girl, the old Irish woman, the libertine playwright, the fey changeling have forgotten my body. I fumble to string together words that might be a story, a history, an argument, a hope, a lie, a discovery, an epiphany, a forgotten minute, a beloved secret or a note to Paris of half felt ideas that might seem whole to her.

The moon is nothing but a string of stars closely packed together like a ball of wool. They’re strung on platinum wire and hence the shine.
My fingers bloat and then stretch and stretch till they’re thin and cackly like a witch’s laugh.
Every surface is a dance floor.
If you don’t believe in love at first sight… you’ve just forgotten the first time you met. I want to travel back lifetimes and meet again for the first time.
Gold is our color. Rich, pagan, a houri on a block, painted queen and lion eyes.
I’m a word. So are you. The word is the biggest secret of our lives. Most often it is hidden even from ourselves.
If the world was simple a kiss would just be a kiss.
I’m waiting to slip sideways into another world. Imagine how exciting it will be. Poof. Sometimes I think I have. Women in saris fly on bears for their honeymoon. Once I was hurt, I lay down and became an icicle. I’d love to mix up the worlds so that everyone was traveling to and fro and then one day you’d all visit and I’d show you around.
I promise to do better tomorrow are the only words I always mean.

Begin at the Beginning

I should have done this while we were still in 2007 but I couldn’t steal a half hour to call my own. The last two weeks have been spent under command from Myrine, Piper and their offspring. So if I wasn’t holding shopping bags, then I was being fed or I was being used. That’s right.

After about 5 days, I thought I deserved a little time off to read and walk around but Nikita quickly says, “But masi, if you go away then at least send Paris mami to take your place or who will entertain us?” So in one sentence I learnt that not only was I easily replaceable but also that I was only as good as a court jester. Sigh.
So I entertained. I sat in the balcony overlooking a terrace rose garden and told stories to Eve. I sipped chai while she had hot chocolate. We licked Nuttella for dessert.
Rosie laughed and giggled and made me wash her ass every morning. Her mother chose convenient times to be missing. She perfected the butt dance and wriggled it at every one she met. I regretted having complimented her on it.
Pearl has become softer. She clung to hands and for the first time in her 7 years displayed a child’s side.
Nikita ordered as only she can and admired everything. Chose my clothes, complimented them, remembered everything, gave cold shoulders, made up… she’s a big girl now.

And since this must be documented – Myrine and Piper suffered through 3 hours of a “perfect jeans hunt”. These jeans have eluded me for the past 4 years. I haven’t bought a pair in longer. I usually walk in to a Levis and try on something made for a giraffe and come away feeling trampled upon. There are never bottoms that fit my bottom. And then this December with my very supportive sisters, I finally found them. In Marks and Spencers. And carried away by the triumph of the moment (and some reasonable fear) I invested in not one but two jeans! Myrine and Piper were suitably impressed.
“In 25 years I’ve never seen you shop before.” Myrine said at least 5 times.
“You can’t complain about us shopping anymore.” Piper said smugly. I smiled winsomely and told her that this was not shopping, “this is like watching a love story get a happy ending. You have been part of my search and now you were in at the end. It’s almost like if I found my dream man.”
Piper agrees since she too is a troubled owner of the Flanagan bottom.

Anyway I have digressed. What I really should have done and didn’t get time to do was make a quick 2007 diary. I thought it would be nice to have a yearly summary of the affairs in the lives of the cast of characters. I like imagining a series of year end summaries. A lazy person’s diary.

2007 for me was the year of friends and beginnings. In a very God Shiva sense. Things got destroyed and were regenerated.
Something paramount happened in almost everyone’s life this year and I can only wish that 2008 sees it all through happily.

So here we go:

Mars: got hitched to Paris this February and also doubled his salary in a meager year. Became a TV star and found that he likes being creative.
Paris: got balled and chained to Mars. Made breakthroughs with both families – hers and his.
Sky: got signed on by “Back From the Past productions” as a director for their forthcoming feature. A HUGE accomplishment and a step that she has been working towards for the past 5 years.
Alanis: jumped some continents and jaded as she was found ‘it.’ The ‘it’ was a package deal that comes with joy, hope, companionship and Greek stories in a mellifluous voice.
Sytar: got wed this March and is deeply enjoying marital bliss. She is a prototype of a woman changed by marriage – she dresses different, wears her hair stylishly and all in all walks more surely. Kudos to her husband who I still have to find a name for.
Harry: had her script heard by some big names in the industry. Some important, some not so much… but she got professional feedback and all of it good. She cut ties with Express and walks free and unloaded after years.
Kat: quit her job and decided to move back to Solace where she will restart her professional dance training.
Titania: decided to move with the parents to Patina and work with Mr. H in the cooking business.
Salvatore: lightened his load after ten years and found closure. Found a girl to love and is working on it.
Quinn: cut ties with all of us and got engaged. We heard of it from his parents.
Mr. & Mrs. H: moved back to Patina. Their life is coming full circle and they are in a place where things are good. They also sold Peterswood. It is a loss that will be felt as some of our happiest and toughest memories are of childhood days spent there.

These were the highlights of 2007. Other important events were Audrey getting engaged. Bee strongarmed GG into buying her a ring. Piper and Philip managed to get out of some coils and things look better. I found employers I like and signed on for a job that I have hope from. (My new mantra is to be a career woman.)

So as you can see 2007 was a really BIG year for so many important people… marriages and engagements, moves and career highs, love found and friends lost. And now we’re in 2008 and it’s come bringing in so many possibilities.

All the best to everyone.

And Then There Were None

13th September 2001

Sometimes you stand alone, you feel alone and you cry. You can’t believe that a single body can be wracked with so much loneliness and grief. And then in the middle of a good cry you suddenly realize that life can’t be coming to an end as there will be many more nights like this one.

December 2007

I found this year’s old entry last night. And it’s true… there is always another night like the last one. I think maybe I meant it well… that life goes on. Though if you’re still crying over the same stuff 7 years down then God help you. I didn’t. Phew! That sure is a relief.
(I’m a silver line watcher.)

Points to be noted:
1. Crying blocks your nose but clears your head.
2. Crying in the middle of the night when the world around you is dark and silent really adds to the drama. You hear every shuddering breath. And every whimper sounds louder than it is.
3. If you can't find someone to call and cry with - 2 extra minutes of salt water shedding is due to you.
4. The morning after headache is bad. You might as well have sleep walked and funneled down a couple of bottles of undiluted vodka.
5. I look ugly when I cry. (I checked). So I do it rarely.