Where has Gori Rajkumari Been?

Here, there and everywhere. Nowhere.

She’s been to the US to solve issues surrounding Mr. Rajkumar’s Green Card application.

She’s been to the US to help her Father who’s ailing again…potentially a return of Cancer in a different body place.

She’s been to the US to visit a Mother recovering from a heart attack and stint surgery.

She’s been here in India dealing with monsoon and raised humidity, pollution, illness, family tension, Society Complex  issues, no power, no water, depression, isolation, persecution, friends who aren’t friends and no grapes or Hazelnut coffee creamer.


There haven’t been any decent grapes in months and Dorabjee’s stopped stocking Hazelnut Coffee Creamer.  The horror. The travesty.

Things have happened here so quickly that haven’t really allowed me to heal from each previous instance. Right when I thought I was moving away from one problem, another one would raise its head.

They came in groups of groups of three’s.

It takes a mental toll and I just haven’t had the wither all to write. The ole acumen and creativity just got sucked dry.

Many of you have written to me in that time. Many of you have been so kind in your concern and wishes for my health and return.

Thank you.

It made a huge difference in knowing that people out there cared whether I was OK or not. I mean, your family and husband have to care right? 😉

Currently, I’m on anti-Anxiety medication, a multi-vitamin and low dosage sleeping pills. This should only be for about a month or so but we’ll see. I’ll also be attending a de-stress class to help learn new techniques to calming down and not letting things get me to the point of an attack. I’ve never dealt with this before so I need all the knowledge I can get.

Because of my stress though…I’m less likely to be online and writing. So I must ask you for your patience and understanding. I’ll write when I’m in a good place. Otherwise, I won’t….or at least not publicly.

So…here is today. Today is a good day.

Today there are two posts. This and one other.

I’m trying to be back. Let’s see if I succeed.

All the best….

©2012 Gori Rajkumari. All rights reserved.

Thursday In Pune….you know what THAT means!


That’s right boys and girls!  It means NO ELECTRICITY!

Pune Electricity Board will cut the power in different sectors of the whole city from anywhere between 7am and 7pm, depending on your area, the amount of trees/dogs in  your area, amount of lunch breaks/chai breaks/snack breaks needed in your area, amount of traffic in your area, amount of available workers in your area, amount of Babu’s willing to be bribed for faster work/less power cut time in your area and the list goes on.

My husband TRIED to tell me that this would end in the Monsoon season but I guess he hasn’t been here during Monsoon in so long he didn’t realize that even MSEB needs chai breaks in Monsoon season.

Anywho, so tomorrow I won’t be posting.  I also cannot jump the gun to write anything pithy to post early on Friday because I’m interrupted too often throughout the day to finish one whole post in the length of time my laptop battery will hold a charge.

So, please be patient.  I am on Indian Standard Time.

Here’s what I have in store for you…

  • 1 Year Married, an update to our Fairytale.
  • More Cows sited in Pune and other important junk.
  • Pessimism and why is ‘pessimisms’ me off.
  • What was Sylvester thinking with that face lift??
  • What’s for Dinner tonight?
  • Upcoming Events.
  • Rants and Raves.

So tune in folks!!!!  Same batty channel!  Same batty time!

Wrinkled….aka still NOT Freshly Pressed.

What IS Freshly Pressed?  It sounds intriguing.  When I first read it I thought “Hmm…perhaps there are a ton of people walking around wrinkled?”  Then I thought probably not.

So I did what any red-blooded blogger does.  I Googled it.

Googled Freshly Pressed

I selected the first link because 1) I’m lazy and didn’t want to scroll down any further and 2) see reason number 1.

So what is being Freshly Pressed?

Sidenote:  In my head this always comes out Fressed Preshly or Pressed Freshly or Pressly Freshed….don’t ask.

Well, here is what the Freshly Pressed tag site had to say:

Each weekday, we hand-pick and promote approximately ten new blog posts to the Freshly Pressed section of the WordPress.com homepage. These posts represent how WordPress.com can be used to entertain, enlighten or inspire.

Why should you care about being featured? Well, let’s put it this way: Getting promoted to Freshly Pressed is a major traffic win because WordPress.com receives a high volume of page views. And, we have a feed set up so people can subscribe to Freshly Pressed. Why do we do all this? It’s our way of saying we like you. We really like you.

Apparently they like everyone but me.  Some people they like more than once.  Also, there is a plethora of people who’ve been pressed freshly and didn’t seem to mind.

So I thought to myself… “Self…I would like to be pressed freshly.  Also, being that I am inordinately fascinated with myself, I think having a ‘major traffic win’ could be a good thing”.

I agreed with myself.  But how to get Pressly Freshed?  I mean Freshly Pressed?

Well, the article explained that too!  Bonus!

Five Ways to Get Featured on Freshly Pressed

  • Write unique content that’s free of bad stuff.

Hmmm.  Well, I write about Intercultural Relationships, Wedding Cupcakes, Superman, Kosher Dill Pickles and occasionally some pretty profound topics like What Cows are Really Looking for in India.  The most controversial I ever went was a blog on Wedding Hair Up-Do’s that I drafted and never posted.  Nothing bad there.  Ok, so CHECK.

  • Include images or other visuals.

Ok, well every blog I post has a visual stimulant.  They prefer that the images be owned by me but if not I need to be sure to properly give credit to the original owner.  Hmmmm.  That one is a bit difficult to do.  I usually just search the pictures in Google till I find a free shot to use if I don’t have one of my own.  I mean, while it’s easy for me to use my own pictures of Cow butt (as I have a plethora of those), I don’t necessarily have access to my own Kosher Dill pickles as THEY DON’T HAVE THEM IN INDIA (thanks a lot for rubbing THAT in my face WordPress…jeez).  Ok, so in today’s post I used a visual I created myself!!  CHECK.

  • Add tags.

Always do.  Even if my post is about something profound like Cows, I tag it as Wedding Cupcakes because I know from my WordPress Dashboard that is just ONE of the pithy little words that people use to find my blog.  CHECK.

  • Cap off your post with a compelling headline.

Dude, how much more compelling can you get than ‘Gori Fell down and went BOOM!’  or ‘Adventure with Indian Toilets!’???  I ask you.  Jeez.  Ok, ok, so CHECK.

  • Aim for typo-free content.

Wht?  I always tpe perfunctly and nvr leaf my blg in disray.  Come ON ppl!!!  Jeez.  CHECK!

So what the heck am I doing wrong?  Why am I not getting Freshly Pressed?  Do I offend?  Is my blog stinky?  Am I NOT all that and the bag of chips that I truly thought I WAS?

Well that last one is just not possible, so the only thing I can come up with is that I am just too cool for Freshly Pressed.

Hey….that’s my story and I’m sticking’ to it!

Wedding Madness!

clockSo I have like….what?  Three days left?  Counting today?  To get stuff done?  Not even that actually as I can’t really do anything on Saturday because that’s when everyone is getting together for our Haldi/Mehndi ceremony dinner thingee.

Baprey.  (Meaning “Oh God…help me”)

I’m so tired I can barely stand, but I have a few hours this morning to rest so here I am, not resting.  My mind is going a million miles a minute.  So I figured that I would sit down and write to all of you about what’s been going on.

Sidenote: I sat here for a full five minutes with this blank stare on my face trying to remember what all I’ve done since last time I wrote.  There’s so much I think I overloaded my brain for a few minutes.  Reboot was required.  System crash.  Full restore in progress.  Restart in 5…4…3…2…

1)      Last Thursday I went with my friend S to pick up my Wedding Sari and Top from the tailor.  The work she did was absolutely stunning and I couldn’t have asked for better work to be done.  It was at Poshaak in Artesia.  If you’ve ever in town, stop by there.  They are kind and carry excellent quality clothes.  Little expensive, but if you have the money, definitely the better purchase.

2)      Friday I ran a bunch of errands, including paying for the Decorator.  She usually only does weddings that are $25,000 and above but she liked Bear and I so much that she is decorating on a small scale for us for around $1000.  Check out their site here.  They are called Ethnic Essence and their decorating skills for Indian Weddings are AMAZING.

3)      Saturday and Sunday Bear and I ran around trying to take care of a million things at once.  We bought his shoes (see below) and picked up a few things that the Pundit asked us to gather for the wedding, like the Sindoor (this is red powder like substance that Bear puts in the part of my hair to signify that I am a married woman).  I still have more that I need to get, like the Paan leaves, puffed flattened rice, small red dupatta (to tie me to his dupatta, it is done right before we take our walk 7 times around the fire…it signifies that we are together in all things), a coconut and a few other things (there is a nut that we have to get too but darned if I remember it’s name without going and looking at the paperwork and I’m too tired to get up).   Also, my friend S took me to buy things for my hair…decorative pins and the like.  Bear and I also were up till 2:30 in the morning cleaning his apartment and throwing away things left behind by other contractors who once stayed here.

Indian Shoes

4)      Monday I don’t remember what I did.  Oh wait, yes I do.  I ran my butt off finishing the cleaning of this apartment.  Going grocery shopping.

5)      Tuesday morning I went to the airport to pick up my Brother and his Fiancé.  I took them to a rental car place which was in the most inconvenient area imaginable.  Then we drove back to Bear’s apartment so they could take a nap before driving up to San Fran to visit some friends.  I continued to clean the apartment, and then woke them up.  Then I got cleaned up and ran to the airport again to pick up my Father, Stepmom, and Aunty.  Brought them back to Bear’s apartment and Bear and I cooked dinner for them (Opo and Aloo subji) and then I drove them to my sister-in-laws house where they spent the night (got back to Bear’s house around 10:30 and passed out).

6)      Got up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 in the morning to drive my Dad and Stepmom to the rental car agency to pick up their car.  Got a call from my brother in San Fran that his rental car had broken down.  Started pulling out my hair and noticed that it was turning silver (at least it’s better than white or grey).   I stopped and picked up Darkest Brown hair color to fix that.  Afterwards, stopped at the Bakery to order the 60 plus cupcakes in our wedding colors.  Half of them are chocolate with cream colored cream frosting and little red roses on top.  Other half is vanilla with red icing and little cream colored cream frosting roses on the top.  The Bride and Groom cake is still the Mango flavored angel food cake with fresh Mango’s and Strawberries inside.

7)      The rest of Tuesday I rested man.

8)      Wednesday was my Dad’s birthday, so we all went out to lunch at Lucille’s.  We had them sing and bring Dad a birthday treat.  Also, here (yesterday – Wednesday) it was Raksha Bandhan.  This is a holiday in India where a girl gives a boy (usually brother and sister, but also cousin’s and good friends) a Rakhi.  A Rakhi is a bracelet made from colored string and beads and other things that the girl then ties to the boys right wrist.  A small puja is performed and the girl and boy feed each other sweets.  Then the boy gifts something to the girl.  He also must protect her for the rest of her life.  My friend S’s husband is my Babba (father in Hindi because he bosses me so much so I nicknamed him this to antagonize him) but mainly he is like my brother.  I care for them all very much.  So I gifted the Rakhi to Babba again this year, as I did last year.  S helped me with the Puja so this time it was done properly.  Babba seemed to enjoy it very much.  Then I came back and colored my hair.  It is now almost black with red highlights.  Very pretty but much darker than I thought.  Bear LOVES it.

9)      This morning, I slept in.

10)   This afternoon I go with S to get the food we need for Saturday night’s Haldi/Mehndi party.  Haldi is thisMehndi is this.  S will be cooking up a storm for that night and we will have about 20 people there.  There will be Mehndi music and dancing and family and food and so much fun!  And I have to sit for MOST of it!!!  Siiiiiiiiigh.  Oh well, I’ll just make Bear bring me food and drink!  LOL

11)   Friday Bear has off from work and we are going to Artesia AGAIN to get the final list of items from the Pundit (see above #3) and to give information for the Bride and Groom cake to be picked up on Saturday late afternoon.  We also are picking up fake flower decorations for the Mustang that my dad is getting to take Bear and his brother to the wedding in.  Fake because it’s cheaper and they will be on the freeway and real flowers won’t stand up to my Dad’s method of driving.  LOL I’m also going to get my pedicure and manicure done.    We then will go to my apartment to get the rest of the things that I have kept there.  My Manglasutra, his Sherwani, the Wedding jewelry (necklace, tikha, ankle trinkets, my shoes and a few other things).  Then we will go to Costco for the plates and napkins and glasses as we are cutting costs by providing disposable utensils instead of having the caterer cart his things there.  That would be more expensive and he is trying to help us cut costs.  We also have to stop and buy my makeup for that day as I need something that won’t wear off from the heat of the fire of my own crying (and I know I’m gonna…I’m getting all emotional now thinking about it).

12)   Saturday I’m doing NOTHING and this is where my friends and family take over.  They will do all the food and ceremony preparation.  I’m just gonna sit there and do nothing…for ONCE!  Hehe  Except eat.  I’ll eat.  J

13)   Sunday I’m getting Married!!!!!

Well, I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading my to-do list because that’s what this really is.  I knew I was going to forget something, so I figured why not turn it into a post so you can see what I’m up to and I can remind myself what still is left to do.

I’m including a video from one of my favorite East meets West movies.  I just like the fact that Sayeed from Lost is in that movie and I get to see him dancing in a Sherwani.  J  Plus it’s a fun song and we will probably play it Saturday night.

Till then, I probably will be going nuts.  So take care and I’ll write sometime next week!  Much love to all!  Have a fabulous Weekend!

Intricacies of Family



Freedom of Choice.  That is one of the few laws in which God and Congress agree on.  That we all are free to chose.  However, in most cases this freedom comes with a price and that is if you disagree with what someone else’s beliefs or wants…there will be consequences.  So are we really as free as we think we are?  Or are we only deluding ourselves.

One of the biggest issues with any relationship, be it intercultural or not, is the issue with family.

Definition of Family:  parents and their children, considered as a group, whether dwelling together or not.

It is somehow ingrained in us, whether it is a learned behavior or a genetic one that we must feel a sense of obligation to the people who bore and raised us.  The people, who clothed us, fed us, comforted us and cared for us.

Somewhere along the line though, we loose the understanding that we are also obligated to ourselves.  As individuals, we have a tendency of feeling guilt or selfishness if we set aside the needs of another in order to better fulfill our own needs.  And then when the time comes that we start asking “What about me???” we suffer through the feeling of being ill-used, taken for granted and misunderstood.  We continue to feel that way until someone is in need of us and the cycle begins all over again.  Perhaps before that last cycle, we even start doing little things for ourselves…but then the consciousness that sounds so much like our mother or father…speaking to us in our own thoughts…pipes up and tells you how ashamed of yourself you should be.  Aren’t there starving children in China?  And yet you are buying some elaborate food that you know you don’t need.  There are children with no clothes and you are spending money on a jacket you don’t need?  There are children with nothing and you are getting a pedicure?  Or perhaps, you overhear a “well-meaning” friend who says (just barely out of earshot) how selfish you have become…you didn’t even invite her to go with you for the pedicure!

Either way, we almost always find our way back to the cycle and begin it all over again.

And there seems to be a master manipulator in every family.  You know the type I’m talking about…that one person in the family who seems to have gotten their Masters and PhD in Manipulation and Guilt Trips.  Every family has them.  Some have more than one.  In my family, it is my Mother.  My parents stayed together until I was out of the house leaving just my much younger brother to fend for himself until my father finally decided to leave and my brother went with him.  But to be quite honest, I started asking my father at the age of 8 or 9 whether or not we could divorce mommy.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother very much.  But I swear that if, when I “grow up”,  I am in any way, shape or form like her in her bad moments, I will commit myself immediately and take whatever mood enhancing drug they put in front of my face.

My mother would make her life seem far worse, the people that she knew were far more ill, her life was far harder, whatever it took so that when she “competed” against other people in the pity party department…she could be assured of winning.  And also, she would look like either a Saint or a Martyr living her life as she did.  Nothing was ever…EVER her fault.  It was my fault.  Or my father’s fault.  Or Grandma’s or Grandpa’s or the neighbor’s or the dogs….ANYBODY’S fault but HER’S.

But her personality was a beautiful one and when she was in a good mood, she could be great fun.  She always came up with the best games or the best ideas for places to go.  She was always willing to try something new with us kids.  She wasn’t afraid of a little dirt or a big mess.  Then again…getting her to clean up that mess afterwards was sometimes a bit of a chore.

Over the years, my mother also learned to become the greatest manipulator this world has ever seen or will ever know.

Note:  this is obviously the opinion of someone who had to live with her…I’m sure everyone feels the same way about their own family manipulator

Being that I did not, have not and will never, do well with authoritative behavior, with demanding and controlling personalities, my mother and I did not get along very well.  So I spent more time with my dad.  With my dad, I learned about football, spark plugs, fixing cars and building things with wood, mowing the grass, changing oil or playing golf.  I would much rather throw my hair back in sloppy pig tail and take off on my trusty blue silver steel monster ‘Traveler’ (my trusty metal horse…which was actually a boys dirt bike which my dad had put a girls seat on for me), than to sit around in the house learning how to put on makeup or curl my hair.

My mother couldn’t seem to find a balance between teaching me things and letting me be ME and because of this, she had a hard time finding reasons for us to spend time together and bond.  However, my father did…which made an even deeper wedge between my mother and me.  I know, eventually, she didn’t feel she understood me at all.  When I finally started becoming interested in ‘girl stuff’, I didn’t ask for her help.  I asked my dad.  The poor man would stand in the makeup aisle at Woolworths’ or Roses and stare at blue sparkly eye shadow or pink rose lip gloss and wonder what planet he had landed on.  I remember one time; he brought me home green eye shadow, green eyeliner and green mascara.  When I asked him why…he said that he knew green was my favorite color and this way I could match.  I wore that stuff three days out of the week…and yes, all at once.

My mother on the other hand, would try to make me a fashion plate, but HER version of fashion.  She read that colored jeans and cowboy boots were ‘IN’, so she ran right out and bought me a teal and yellow stripped Izod shirt, banana yellow jeans and a pair of suede, teal colored cowboy boots.  She proudly showed this outfit to me and was actually mad at me when I said that I liked all the pieces…but SEPERATELY.  I could never wear them together for God’s sake.  Oh, I forgot to mention that she also got a two for one deal on the boots, so I got a pair of puffy iridescent purple high tops.  Those things glimmered ok?  Picture a purple shimmery version of the shoes Mork from Ork wore and you get the idea.  Can we say Shazbot???  I knew you could.

Note:  HELLO???!!!!!  We are talking about the 80’s…these things were at least semi-cool back then.  Today they would have gotten me killed.  But I also had bangs that were two feet higher than my head.  I could go to bed for three nights running and not have to do more than give a quick re-tease to my hair to have it back in 80’s high fashion.  Plus, I invested in Lacquer Hair Spray…which only hairdresser’s could get and my mom is a hairdresser.  I know you’re jealous!  😛

When I lived at home, it was easy for my mother to control me, as I didn’t have any other place to go and she knew it.  I couldn’t move out and I could only appeal to Dad so much for intervention.

But even at a very young age, I began learning that while being respectful to my mother and her wishes was important, I still needed to be true to myself.  I began arguing with her.  I began disagreeing with her.  I began openly going against her if I felt that what she was asking or requesting of me went against who I was as a person.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about chores or things of that nature…sure, I was a teenager and I didn’t like doing that stuff…but I still did it even if I grumbled some too.

But my mouth would get me into trouble, and my balking at her absolute and authoritative rule did not go far in winning me over with her.  We had some tremendous fights.  I learned to start defending myself and saying NO to certain behavior.  I started protecting my brother in the same way.  I began taking my grievances to the higher authority (Dad) and then paying for it later when he wasn’t around.  When I finally left my parents home, I told my mother that she would never again have that much control over my life and that the sooner she accepted that, the happier she would be.  It would take her three more years to finally come to terms with that and in some ways she still never has.

So, while my Dad totally understood me, or at least tried to, my Mom was busy trying to make into a mini-version of her.  Reliving her misspent youth through a daughter that was nothing like her.  I feel sorry for her actually, I was never as beautiful or girly as she was, I tripped at fashion contests, I sang beautifully but refused to wear makeup or foo foo dresses at talent contests.  I thought boys were for beating up; anything else gave you a serious and possibly fatal case of the cooties.  My mother started dating when she was 14.  I waited another 4 years beyond that until my first date.  My mother is blonde and blue eyed.  I am green eyed with reddish brown hair.  My mother is fair.  I have olive skin tone.  About the only thing we have in common is that my mother is short and I am short.  But I still love her and I still respect her and now that I’m older I do have more in common with her than I ever did growing up.

And there lies the problem.  Now that I am older and more interesting to her because we finally do connect in some ways…she is trying harder than ever to hold on to me.  Keep me in reach of her, within visiting distance.  She sends me job opportunities for my home town and state.  She talks to people about me to see if they have something anything that I could fit into.  And she’s been doing this since before the economy tanked.  She’s been trying to get me to move back home for the past three years.  I’ve explained to her over and over again that the job market back home was never in my field of expertise and it hasn’t changed much since I left.  Did she really want me working in a position that was beneath my skill level?  In a job that bored me?  She would always respond “Of course not Aurora” (she uses my name in order to add emphasis to the tone that she uses which IMPLIES STRONGLY that I am misbehaving and disrespecting her by even asking such a question).

She’s gotten a little less manic about it over the past year, actually ever since I told her that I had finally met “the one” and after years and yeaaaaaars of thinking that I would wind up an old spinster, I was finally engaged.

The trouble started when she learned that this might also lead to me moving to India.  And that is when the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan.  Accusations, Guilt Trips, Threats and Demands…OH MY!  They started up right away and to be quite honest, I finally started to get sick and tired (I can hear Bill Cosby saying this in my head as I type it) of being treated like I was a teenager still living in her house.

So, I laid down the law and explained to her, in no uncertain terms, that she needed to treat me with the same respect I give to her, and to knock off the condescending tone of voice that she was using.  To which she hung up on me.

Note:  This is classical and text book, when  you become a mother, you will get the revered text book that tells you these things…if daughter/son does this then you do that, it is guaranteed of 90% return on guilt and depression in which the child will back down and 75% do what you say.

Anyway, I called her back and asked her if she liked being hung up on and when she responded no, that is was disrespectful, I told her I felt the same way and that is why I’ve NEVER done this to her.  She hung up on me again.

So I called her back and asked her if she was going to continue this behavior because if so, please just let it go to the answering machine so I can finally say something without hearing the dial tone.  She hung up on me.

So, I called her back and left her a message.  And in it I did something that ate at me like acid through metal.  I told her that until she could show me respect, until she could recognize that I was an adult, until she could accept that I was going to make my own decisions in life and she no longer could control me with either threats or emotional black mail, until these things happened, to not contact me again.  And if that meant that she wasn’t a part of my wedding, that’s what it meant.  And then I hung up.

I also sent her a five page email explaining all the same things in more detail that I had said in the voicemail.  I explained that I had been raised by two amazing people who had instilled in me a level head and the ability to rationalize and research any issue before making a decision.  Did she not trust her own upbringing of me so much that she felt she had to go to these extremes?  To alienate me?  To hurt me?  Or was this not about me at all?  Was this about her and what she wanted?

Who knows, I haven’t heard from her in over a week.

Sure, she started this fight over her concern for my moving to and living in India.  But she brought up old reasons that I had already explained away for her (misconceptions about India, her own prejudices due to ignorance, etc).  She brought those up like I had never even talked with her about them.  I asked her if I was going to have to explain this to her each and every time, if I was going to have to ‘win’ her over each and every time, to PLEASE let me know now so that I can start saving up my energy.  And it wasn’t just that she had concerns, come on….my father and step-mother have them as well (heck…I do, I would be crazy not to).  It’s the WAY in which she expresses them.  When she starts with what my brother and I used to call “THE TONE”, we knew hell was on the way.  She is a master with tone and inflection…but mainly it’s the combination of the words that she uses and the tone of voice that goes with each statement that can drive one mad.

As an example:

…but if you are so far away I’ll never see you again, I’ll die an old woman without seeing her one and only daughter ever again.  And what if something happens to you over there?  How are we supposed to be able to afford to get you back home?  And you know that you are going to be a servant over there…they aren’t going to let you work.  And what about the terrorism?  Did you think about that?  That you could die in a bomb blast while shopping for groceries?  I hope you aren’t planning on letting him take out a life insurance policy on you Aurora Coda, because then anything is possible.  I just don’t UNDERSTAND why you two can’t move here, he could get a job, you could get a job, you could both live with me until you found a home…I just don’t UNDERSTAND.

Even though I’ve explained a million times WHY we couldn’t do that and that we HAD looked into the possibility, I was still getting the same thing from her four months after telling her the first time.

So, what am I to do?  I could sit here all sad and depressed and missing my mommy.  Feeling like I am the most horrid and disrespectful daughter in the whole wide world.


I can understand that this is not my problem…it’s hers.  This isn’t about me moving to another country.  This is about how it will affect her.  This isn’t about my happiness.  It’s about hers.

And why on earth am I going to sit here and allow myself to be affected by someone else’s issues and problems?  I’ve already done everything that I could do to help her feel easier on this situation.

NOTE:  in all actuality, she will see me more once I’m married and in India, than she ever did with me living right here in the US…I’ll be able to come home at least once every two years and for more than a month each time…now I’m lucky if I can afford to take off 1 week and fly home every three years.

So, there you go, I just dumped all my dirty laundry right out here in front of you.


Because maybe it might help you.  Maybe it won’t.

What my goal here was to show you that you have to live YOUR life.  Not someone else’s.  If they choose to disown you or stop talking to you because of your life choices (I’m talking marriage or moving and the such…not deciding to do drugs or any other illegal activity), then that is THEIR issue…not yours.  It is their decision, not yours.

You are no more ”making” them do something than they are “making” you feel a certain way.  You are feeling a certain way because you are allowing that to happen.

Isn’t time we stop that vicious cycle?  Isn’t it time that we stop allowing other’s to live or rule our lives out of what we think of as obligation to that person?  Isn’t it time that we stop making ourselves and our loved ones miserable?  Isn’t it time that we started living our lives?

I know it’s time for me.  That’s why I’m letting my mother sit in her little stew of negativity and throw her big bad “Ohhh poor me” pity party.  I love her, I’m open to talking to her, but the ball is in her court now.  She has to make the next step.  And if she tries the same old games again, I’ll do the same thing all over again.

Because, this is my life. I am free to live it as I wish.  I will live it.  And by golly, I won’t feel bad for it either!

PS:  I’m testing AlphaInventions by putting this link at the bottom of the post just to see if what they say is true…that you get more readers by linking to their site.  Let’s test this theory.  http://alphainventions.com/life.xml

Dreams, Hopes and Wishes. Changing your attitude on changing expectations.

Woman Dreaming by Alison Chakir

Woman Dreaming by Alison Chakir

Once upon a time, in a suburb far far away, there lived in a split level a young princess.

The young princess had many dreams, of being an astronaut, a professional horseback rider, an actress or a writer.  In all of those dreams, she lived in a little cape-cod house, in a little town way up north where when it snowed…it snowed big.

She would have two kids, two cars, two dogs and a husband with a pear tree (in the back yard of course).  And her property would be large, big enough for a vegetable garden and play area.  She would live in the country where her kids could roam and get into as much trouble as possible.  There would be a barn to hold her two Arabian horses (one black, one chestnut).  Her husband would be good and kind and intelligent.  He would be strong, like her father, and handsome.  Most of all he would make her laugh until her sides hurt and the tears ran.

And she would have all of this, DO all of this by the time she was twenty-five.  Twenty-six at most.

Now the princess is all grown up, past her cut off date for all her dreams.  And yet she still dreams and hopes and wishes.

It’s just that those things have all changed.  Now, her little cape-cod is a flat, not in the far north where when it snows….it snows big.  But in a city in the central part of India.  She might still get the two kids and two dogs, but not the two cars.  Also, the land and garden and barn for the two Arabian horses are gone as well.  Now they are replaced with a badminton court, pool, courtyard and play area for children.  Instead of two cars, she will have two motorcycles…perhaps down the line, one bike and a small car.

And yet she is happy with this new dream, these new hopes and wishes.


Because, life changes.  It’s sometimes exactly what you hoped for and sometimes is not.  The important thing to see is that each new representation is just as precious and special as the last (or the next).  To realize that you aren’t really letting go of those dreams, you are only modifying them.  To retain that former dream, and build on it, making it far better than it was before.

You see, in the princess’s real (and new) future, her fiancé and soon to be husband is everything that she wished, hoped and dreamed of.  He is good, kind and intelligent.  He is strong, like her father, and very handsome.  Best of all, he makes her laugh until her sides hurt and the tears run.

And the princess knows that there is still the possibility for anything to happen.  They may still get that cape-cod cottage in the north.  She may someday have property big enough for horses.  She may even still become a writer.  Nothing is impossible, if you can dream it.  That’s the point.

So, the next time you lay your head down to sleep, as you close your eyes prepare yourself for the dreams to come.  Revel in them.  Love them.  Work on making them a reality and if things change or evolve over time…all the better.

Life is constantly changing.  Dreams follow suit.  Make sure that you do as well.