so funny to remember myself to myself

Wow, I haven't been on this blog for nearly 3 years and it is so funny to read my old posts and remember myself to myself.

I had such a hard time settling into married life and losing part of my identity - I really fought it, I can see that now - at the time it seemed the only way to keep breathing.

All these years on - I have given up my carrier to all extents and purposes; I'm consulting from home, earning money, planning on getting pregnant and life revolves around the boy finishing his PhD successfully and happily. There are no more questions (or even angst) about going where its best for him and by default, best for us as a family.

On his part, I think he's come to feel incomplete in life without me around.

How bizarre! I still miss work in Brussels and realize that two paths faced me and I clearly chose 1 over the other - and who knows which was the "best", except that in the end, whatever the path you choose - it has to be plowed and planted with roses. The amount of work put into life is the same and if you do it properly, one can always be happy.

I feel happy. I also feel ready for another stage of life in terms of work and what I want from work. I want time - time is of great importance. I want to enjoy more than just my work during my day.

And as I've aged, so have all the others around me - slowly making peace with our worlds.

Victoria's oh so boring Secret and my oh so boring Syndrome

Last week I found out that I have poly-cystic ovary syndrome. I sort of knew I did...but I sort of forgot, after being diagnosed of it over 15 years ago and having been on the pill for so many years, that it all seemed a distant memory.

I was surprised on how this news knocked me - basically, because 15 years ago, it just meant going on the pill. Now, at age 33 and counting, it means a propensity towards diabetes, a number of physical symptoms (hair loss, acne, heavy periods, weight gain etc)and (what really took the wind out of my sails), a likely chance of infertility.

So, in feeling distinctly unfeminine, because as we PCOS sufferers know (we have our own purple and blue band to wear to show solidarity), what our body is really doing is producing more testosterone than necessary, I stopped of at Victori's Secret on my way home from the doctor's.

And boy, was I disappointed - and the only secret I seemed to be sharing in was how sad that this is what the country has come to, that underwear is purely functional, all padded with foam bras, only whispers of lace, and dishwater colours? And as I stood around the browns, blacks and whites (bras that is, without a saucy red or raunchy fuschia, or even a slinky purple in sight), I realised that like the badly made, terribly boring, underwear (NOT lingerie, this really can't be called lingerie), I was bieng confronted with, my own news was, well, kinda dull and boring. To get depressed over the lack of cute and sexy bra-panty sets was equivalent to getting depressed about my ovaries over-producing boy hormones - life and choices were still available to me and I just had to pull myself out of my funk.

Now, a few days on a I feel a lot better. Fertilitiy shermtility...as a child, I always imagined adopting, because I felt there was some unspoken vanity in believing your offspring could be better than others, just based on gene combos. And I've always been resentful that I have this biological clock ticking over me - in fact a possibility of infertility sets me free in a funny way. If there is any vanity I may flirt with in terms of children, its in the rearing vs the bearing. I would like to think my children will grow up balanced and caring of the earth and others, animals included.

As for the derth of sexy knickers available in VS, I'm consoled my self with thinking I can stock up on my upcoming euro-trip...and the knowledge, that like fertility, I can finally free myself of VS and its pink stuffed ponies - hopefully moving on to bigger and better things.

Mugabe, heat waves, euro 2008, joy and mango ice cream

1. Mugabe: why or why can't we get him out. The hypocrisy of the SA gvt, (well Mbeki, really, because even that thug Zuma has spoken out against the ex-knight) urging the west (read ex-colonials) to stay away has filled me with anger - where would the anti-apartheid movement have gone if the rest of the world (read ex-colonial powers) hadn't boycotted SA - thanks to popular pressure. What happened to "gimme hope Jo'anna", huh? The 400 poor opposition folks congregating around the SA embassy in Harare should start doing that pretty soon...

Let's just give a shout out the union folks in SA, who did stand up, and who refused to unload the Chinese ship, caring arms to Mugabe.

2. Heat waves - OMG!! My bus is packed these days with ex-car drivers who realized that gas prices are just going to keep going up...of course bus ethics will have to be taught to this new generation...but now with the days blasting heat, all the AC in the world can't get rid of that good ol' body odour of public transport. At least most folks use deodorant in the US ...I don't mean to say anything snide about anti-anti-perspirant societies...well, I can't really, because it is hard to talk and hold your nose at the same time and breath out of your mouth.

I'm happy the sun is continuously out in LA, but on Sat, after a marathon (and may we say, very successful) trip to Ikea in Burbank (which is in the Valley and is literally, half a world away from our West LA hood), I told the boy flat out that I couldn't wait for the monsoons to hit. Sadly, there won't be any monsoons, and probably not even a shower or two - yes, you heard be correctly, after years in London, Vancouver and Brussels, I am asking and praying for rain. I know, I'm sick.

3. Euro Cup 2008 Semi Finals. Was at gym. Was mesmerized. Wished for Turkey victory so badly. Was too chicken to cheer for them with all the LA-Armenians around. Result: loss for Turkey, great day off for all the German auto workers. Beers and bratwurst all round - with extra pork!

4. JOY - my friend joy should be performing in Istanbul right now...but no, no I'm actually talking about the total joy of working from home, not doing that damn commute, not being stressed out by work (though I'm in a new campaign - already - and leading it supposedly), getting to go the gym, cooking dinner etc.

Made me realize I HAVE to start looking now for something new for post Sept. Though, staying at the might, mighty union will allow me to work on the Obama campaign and get paid in October...that vs general well being, joy and sanity...hmmmm...and of course my crush on Obama...

5. A recipe from my mother-in-law for mango ice cream (for those of you who just love mango or have your own damn heat wave):

1 cup Mango puree ( canned mango pulp from Indian Store)
1 carton Cool Whip
1 can condensed milk
1 can evaporated milk.
Mix the above, freeze a few hrs!!

Eat and be lifted to the Mango ice cream heaven.

An Eighties Song for Every Moment of Life

Work is intense and low-wage member do not equal glamour (which, I admittedly I got a taste of in Brussels - between crazy dinners with Azeri generals, to rating embassy cocktail parties with S, to well, travel on an international level and drinking in bars in the shadow of the EU parliament).

But, sometime there is a shiny little piece of gold in every trawl...in this particular case it is working with a really funny guy, a young progressive, straight, meat eating, alchohol drinking, South Asian male, with a cool masters, who is considered by many as a unicorn (ie., such a rarity, a creature only legend talks of). No sexual tension - don't worry - very, very sister/brother. It's just that I realize he is of a special breed...

He cracks me up on a daily basis and has an 80s song for every dull / painful / exhausting moment of the day. And we three other researchers (older white, vietnamese-american and south asian women) love him to bits, 'cos frankly, the 80s are our time, and we would sing its songs if we could (1) sing as well; and (2) remember the lyrics.

It has been a long, long time that someone has made me laugh this way... and it feels good to be in a work space where I feel comfortable and can be myself. It was what I really wanted from my LA job- knowing that of all the things I was leaving behind in Brussels, that is what I would miss the most.

So, thank you to the universe for making that happen. When I finish a long day at work in downtown LA, and head home to the white west-side for some good wine and an episode of LOST, or when I think about about our membership, whose life is truly shit in so many ways, and realise how different and lovely my immigrant story is, or when I wonder, how the F**K did I end up in LA of all places, I think "lets hear it for the boy":-) And I mean, my boy.

On a bloody daily basis I sing"she works hard for the money" and my actual theme song: Morning Train (9 to5) by Sheana Easton, which starts "I wake up every morning and stumble out of bed, a stretching and yawning.." you get the picture.

In essence, I'd like to thank the 80s for music, memories and well, so much more that shouldn't really be posted (I was 13 in 1988...)

As a child of that era, certain songs just trigger deep, deep memories. If forced to name a top 10 based on my feelings right now and my exhaustion (and old age), I'd go for:

1. Lady in Red (makes me cry for a particular moment- dancing with Clayton the best dancer I have ever had the pleasure of dancing with)

2. Hotel California (makes me wonder at the bravery of being young - Indian ocean breeze and bandra)

3. Chain Reaction (reminds me of my one and only crush - Stewart Gordon and at the same time my first and only pet Sooty, the black magical cat)

4.Billie Jean (sitting on the swings in Neptune, Gisy and I arguing over the meaning and quoting older sources - Cheryl etc.)

5. Wake me up before you go-go (pure convent school - sitting by the basket ball courts, discussing who was better - George or Andrew)

6. Back to Life (smoking my first cigarrette with Nilima behind a wall off Baker Street, my first summer in London)

7. I just died in your arms (watching music videos for the first time - New Delhi - knowing there was a whole world out there)

7. Let's Dance (pure youth and a time when I LOVED and dreamed of David Bowie)

8. Karma Chameleon (holidaying in London with my oh so cool older cousins and being told that Boy George was not a woman, and eating ice cream with a cadbury flake stuck in it)

9. The only way is up (that one weekend in the country, pretending I was english and indulging in some very wet snogging)

10. Girls Just Want to Have Fun (YOUTH and dreaming of life in the western world)

As with English food, I will defend 80s music to the end...I'll spare you my ode to steak and kidney pie and sticky toffee pudding...