Today’s Mood Ingredients: Contemplative, Introspective, Grateful. Hi! It’s been a while. Life suddenly leaped out at me & bit me in the rear. However, in the time that pretty much everything was happening all at once, I did realize a few things. I live a pretty good life. It’s not perfect by any means (& obviously no one’s lives are), it’s absurdly stressful, I’m ridiculously worried 20/7 (which is a spectacular upwards movement from 26/7, congrats to me), I want to do 9 million things with the time to do only 30, and I get frustrated that all of the above is occurring. I do, however, have working (albeit mildly arthritic-sadly, not a joke) legs, mobile arms (wing span situation notwithstanding), a functioning brain (up for debate), and a plenitude of opportunity (which I abashedly admit to not taking advantage of enough).
Ok, so don’t close this blog yet! I promise it’s not a preachy post on how we should all be thankful for what we have (even though we should) & how what we have in this life is enough (even though it is). This is a post about how I realized that the words “average” & “normal” have two different meanings and depths with respect to my life. I was always the person who would get incredibly annoyed when people would tell me to think of those less fortunate than me when I was having a bad day. I mean..I am aware that there are people who have no food & no water & no families, & no one feels for them more than me & my over-empathetic self does, but sometimes, I just wanted to wallow in my own misery. COULD I LIVE!? Over time though, I realized that as much as my most terrifying fear was to be “normal” or “average” in the achievement sense, I have never been more grateful to be “average” & “normal” in the life sense. I have an immediate family of 11 that loves me unconditionally & whom I love obsessively back. I have amazing friends who have seen me through some morose times and some euphoric times. I have my health, my family (even through everything as of late) has theirs, we have a roof over our heads, we have food on our tables, and although we are wanting in many other ways, the most important thing is that we have a support system that people would literally kill for (seriously, they’ve creepily told me so). So although I want my business to succeed more, my dreams to be fulfilled more, my worries to be calmed more..I’m truly grateful that on my way to hopefully being able to realize all of those things, I have the ability and the resources that allow me to excel..& all I have to put in is the work.
If you follow this blog, you’ve heard me say this plenty of times, & I’m clearly still going through some form of PTSD from it, but I will never ever be more grateful to whomever, wherever, whatever, that my parents are still with me. To have my greatest fear nearly realized within a short span of 7 months, & to have us all restored to an almost normal (for us, anyway) level is something that I will never be able to express enough thanks for. And for better or for worse, that heavy emotional trauma was the catalyst for me to realize that I have enough. In fact, I have a lot. In fact, I have the most. I know I said this wouldn’t be a preachy post, but honestly, I just wanted you to keep reading because if a self-admitted, everyone-proclaimed pessimistic wallower can find a way to revel in all that she has, you guys can do it eeeaaasily! The point is, sometimes, shit is gonna suck. A lot. And sometimes, things are going to be so amazing, you can’t imagine them getting any better..& then they do. But if you want to get through the roller coaster labrynth & come out unscathed on the other side, find ways to be appreciative of the things you have, and even of the things that you don’t. A new perspective never hurt anybody!
**For those who want some ideas on how to get the ball rolling, check out these two links below which have helped me become less of a negative person.
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband & a happy home & children, & another fig was a famous poet & another fig was a brilliant professor, & another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, & another fig was Europe & Africa & South America, & another fig was Constantin & Socrates & Attila & a pack of other lovers with queer names & offbeat professions, & another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, & beyond & above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each & every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle & go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
Today is a good day. It’s the first day in over 6 months that I actually have the desire to go out and reconnect with people without having a constant frenetic worry in my head about my family & their health & whereabouts. The sun is bronzing our front yard, the mild breeze feels like snuggling with newborns, & my endorphin levels are at some unprecedented high. I used to scoff (until it affected me..sorry about that) at the whole seasonal depression thing. I figured that if people in London weren’t all down & depressed their entire lives considering their lack of natural Vitamin D providers, then weather really wasn’t what was affecting your mood. Just kidding. The past couple of weeks have made me realize that Mother Nature, that little vengeful woman, has had my head in a vice all winter long. Blizzards, gray skies, polar vortexes, & gloomy rain, combined with family health issues, had me downer than Debbie and more negative than Nancy.
I don’t know if it’s the weather, I don’t know if it’s the fact that (knock on wood) my family is feeling better, I don’t know if it’s because I’m starting to (excruciatingly slowly) get my shit together, & I don’t know if it’s because I absolutely refuse to have to take any anxiety medication (I have no stigma against it, it’s just a personal preference that I would rather not take anything), but I’m stage 5 clinging to whatever is causing this upswing in my mood & positivity & general infatuation with the good and happy in the world. Next winter, I’m flying south with the winged & this summer, I’m absorbing rays like I’m a God damn human greenhouse (wearing SPF 100), but as for the present moment, “it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life..for me. And I’m feelin’ good.” 😎
ARTS: JUST DANCE, GONNA BE OK, DA DA DOO DOO; THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION TO STRESS
Today’s Mood Ingredients: Euphoric, Free, Alive.
Stress. Overwhelming stress. It’s very rare that people today don’t have it. It varies in levels depending on a number of factors; career, family, emotions, personality, lifestyle, income, desires, etcetera, but it’s there. Silently waiting to attack when you least expect it, rendering you manic or crazed or depressed or angry. Let’s say you can’t quit your job to own a farm in California or live a spa life in Arizona. You can’t quit your family, you can’t shirk your responsibilities, you can’t overcome your sporadic but prevalent emotional tsunamis. So, what do you do? Release it. For me, the greatest and truest inanimate, intangible passion of my life is dance. Any form. Drunken, choreographed, impromptu, rehearsed, performed, jumping & booty-bumping with my 2.5 year old nephew, ballroom dancing with the puppy. ANY. If it was possible to bottle the feeling that radiates within and out of me when I’m dancing, I would be in direct competition with the Onassis family as wealthiest around. However, I cherish the fact that the feeling is so inexpressible for me because I get to have a sense of public privacy.
The audience sees a performer on stage expressing lyrics and movements to given music, but much of the time, the performer is in a whole different secret world. I have literally been brought to tears or euphoria on stage depending on the day of performance, & the people, who I don’t even register in my consciousness, applaud. They applaud for a technical performance that hopefully connected with them in some way. What they don’t realize is that the emotion that’s coming off in waves from the stage to the audience at such a high frequency is the tumultuous collage of my innermost fears, happinesses, struggles, tears, accomplishments, sadness, & stress being released. They are privy to something they don’t even know of, & for a hyper-private person like me, it’s my way of “talking about my feelings.” Dancing has saved me from a lot in life. It has protected me from a lot in life. It has given me a lot in life. It is the only outlet that still serves to shatter my anxiety, my founded & unfounded worries, & my fears. The best way to describe it, I suppose, is by using my favorite quote, also tattooed on my ankle: “In life, as in dance; grace glides on blistered feet.” When I’m dancing, I’m at my most euphoric. When I’m dancing, I’m at my most tranquil. When I’m dancing, I’m at my most giving. It’s a blind & frozen moment in time where everything is nothing and nothing is everything & I’m spinning along with the world in harmony.
Everyone deserves this. You deserve to feel this way about something in your life, if not necessarily dance. When things are piling up & suffocating you under their deadweight, find your own outlet. You don’t have to be good at it. Contrary to popular & incorrect belief, NO ONE CARES.
“Times of general calamity and confusion have ever been productive of the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace, and the brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storms.”-Charles Caleb Colton
Is splattering paint across a canvas therapeutic? Do it. Listening to music? Blast it. Playing sports (not my forte!)? Kick it, pitch it, run it. Writing? Scribble it. No one is expected to be the next DaVinci, Stevie Wonder, Jackie Robinson, Ernest Hemingway, but you are expected to somehow be able to enjoy this life without needing an industrial-strength antacid twice a day. I’m lucky that I found my meditation at the age of 3, but “too late” is a phrase I’m just starting to eke out of my vernacular, & I suggest you do the same for “life is short, but sweet for certain.”
Today’s Interlude: “Dance Dance Dance” by Lykke Li
I’ve been single for 7 years. SEVEN. I haven’t been lonely for any of them, & it’s not for lack of interested parties or for lack of halfhearted attempts. I always figured I was single for this long because I was making a lot of changes in my life, switching careers, getting life in order, reconnecting with friends, etc. It was only a few months ago (apparently I’m slow on the uptake) that I realized the real reason why I’m single & never ready to mingle. Fear. It’s not a fear of commitment because I’m the most freakishly committed girlfriend you could ever have. Definitely not a fear of monogamy because cheaters makes me homicidal (in a good way?). Somehow, unbeknownst to me, I’ve developed a fear of intimacy (of all kinds) & a fear of loss of freedom. So, as a 32 year old woman who likes relationships & wants children, how do I make this work? Obviously by making my fears public to the world, thereby forcing me to make changes..or at least start by writing about making changes (everything’s a process, guys).
For whatever reason (exes, circumstances, experiences), over the years I’ve begun shying away from emotional & physical contact with people who may be potential mates. I don’t feel like re-telling my life story on a date (I mean, how many times can you go over your own life? I literally started boring myself), I run away like Phoebe Buffay in Central Park (you so remember that episode) at the first sign of someone trying to hold my hand or anything remotely physical (my aversion to PDAs are a long-standing thing so this isn’t really so surprising, but I suppose to recoil from a hand like it’s a mutant tarantula is a little much). Past relationships haven’t turned out for the best for a variety of reasons (infidelities-them, overanalysis/need to prove myself correct when Sherlocking the aforementioned infidelities-me, insecurities-us); & though I’m civil/friends with those little culprits now (which is something fabulous that I think everyone should do if feasible, because it removes a LOT..not all, but still..of emotional cargo & has lightened the load in my life significantly), they clearly impacted the relationship issues I face now. Currently, the thought of a boyfriend makes me break out into hives because I think of all of the weekends/evenings that would have to go into dinners and family meetings at some point and struggling to find my alone time which I so treasure right now. I worry that all of the grandiose dreams I have for myself & my life will end up playing second fiddle to my relationship & at my age, the problem (supposedly) is that I don’t have the luxury of time to delay either my life’s goal or my relationship future.
So, how does a person re-learn romantic love? I mean, I don’t have to start all over in the general love department because I love my friends in the adore kinda way & I love my family in the obsessed/don’t mess with them/they can never leave me kinda way (that’s an unhealthiness best explained in another post) & I love my dog in the you’re the best thing with 4 legs and a tongue ever created kinda way. But how do you re-learn the I’m-in-love-with-you-you’re-really-attractive-let’s-hang-out-a-lot-and-maybe-make-out kind of love? Trial and error. Perhaps being less cocooned will help, perhaps letting my guard down (SLOWLY) will help people to believe that I’m not, in fact, some intimidating unfeeling ice queen, but rather a vulnerable person with concerns and fears and aspirations and dreams. I’ve also learned that taking all of the pressures coming from other people around me & placing them on myself and the people I meet is not about to help make me open and available, it basically just overwhelms & drives you into a scared turtle state. I’ve also realized that though I have standards, and I refuse to compromise on some of them because I am well aware of what type of individual and what type of relationship I deserve, that some of them may be impossible for anyone to meet & maybe that’s the sole reason why I put them there; so I can say, “Oh well, you don’t meet this requirement of being a chest hair-less dancer who chews with his mouth closed and is sarcastic and doesn’t have a certain last name” & consequently not have to get to know those who don’t fit those standards. I suppose these “realizations” or epiphanies or whatever you want to call them are the first step to moving towards a life that I’m actually willing to share with someone else outside of my carefully & meticulously maintained world of weirdos. That, combined with a strange cocktail of minor narcissism/obsession with genetics/hyper-maternal instinct that makes me want to see more little me’s in the world, will hopefully be the propellors that catapult me into the arena of companionship and romantical love & stabilize me there while allowing me to revel with my own individual identity intact.
There’s no definitive answer on how to feel romantic love again, but there are definitive methods to the madness, and at this moment in time, in the melodic words of Alicia Keys, if you ask me, I’m ready.
Today’s Interlude(s): “Back In The High Life Again,” by Steve Winwood & “Not A Bad Thing” by Justin Timberlake
If you know me, you know I love her. Like, LOVEEE her. I’m not a person who gets starstruck or flustered when meeting celebrities, ever, but when I recently had the chance to meet writer/director/actor/producer/fashionista/hottie Mindy Kaling, albeit for a brief 12 second span where I gave her Easter candy in a hot pink bag, my body apparently knew something my brain wasn’t caught up on because I was shaking like a Californian in an Alaskan winter & it wasn’t because of the 50 mph gusts of wind outside.
People who follow me on social media are well aware of my adoration for her & they’ve asked me time & time again why she’s so awesome to me. There is a plenitude of reasons that we love or admire celebrities. Most of the time it’s their body of work & talent or because of whatever persona they (or their PR team) decide to show us, & since we’ll most likely never meet them, that’s how it stays. With Mindy (& I have a huge list of people who share my sentiment), it’s much more. It’s easy to pick her as the South Asian role model for women & entertainers and very easy to pick her as the spokesperson for every “Brown” person out there, but that’s actually last on my list of why I am awed by her in a non-creeper way. If you’ve read her book, “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And Other Concerns,” you’ll know what I mean (& if you haven’t read it, get on it ASAP. It’s a New York Times Bestseller & unless you’re a Jetsons-esque robot [but even Rosie had emotions], you’ll laugh until you ugly cry. I’ve read it 3 times, taking something new away from it every time, & highlighted about 80% of it). Mindy weaves humor & emotion seamlessly while telling her stories of being bullied about her weight, her childhood fears, unapologetically loving comedy early on in life, her botched Broadway audition, living in a shoebox apartment with her 2 best friends, her dating game, and so on. As she tells her stories, I don’t know if she realizes it or not, she connects with so many of us on a personal level. It’s easy to want to put those days behind you (& easily be able to) when you’re at nearly 3 million Twitter followers, over half a million Instagram followers, & being the star & show runner of your own network TV show, but the greatest thing about her is that she owns it & embraces it all. She’s never hidden from her roots or her history and that’s what makes her accessible to & adored by so many of us (her talent and hilarity help too, obv).
I have many celebrities I love, but I’ve never felt connected to them on a personal level like I do with Mindy Kaling. Perhaps it’s that we’re close in age, perhaps it’s that she is fiercely loyal in her close relationships & friendships, perhaps it’s that her greatest strength & love is the relationship she has (yes, present tense) with her mother, perhaps it’s that we’re both fashion freaks (her Instagram feed is to die for!), perhaps it’s that we had a similar childhood, & perhaps it’s just that she’s someone I aspire to be like; inspired, driven, sarcastic with a childlike exuberance but an iron work ethic. She’s a brilliant writer, an Ivy-League graduate, & has humorous self-deprecation down to a science. Someone somewhere (or at least definitely on Twitter) says that they wish they were Mindy Kaling’s BFF every day. And though I admit to having said that, I’m happy I’m not. Wait, what? Yes, I’m happy I’m not her BFF because I have my own group of BFFs (“it’s not a person, it’s a tier, Danny!”) who have been there for me through all of the winding roads of life & I love that she still has her core group of homies from college (& of course, BJ Novak from The Office) who have been there for her for the same. Don’t get me wrong though, had it been 2002 & I met Mindy & her friends (which was SO FEASIBLE since I was watching all of the Bombay Dreams auditions in real life & wish I’d gotten to know her when she auditioned!), I’d totally try & hang out with them.
For someone who has high aspirations for making it as not only a woman, but a person in this world, I can think of no one better to look to as a guide. She didn’t glide up on a who-knows-who method & she doesn’t rest on her laurels. She worked her ass off & had conviction in her work, her intellect, her talent, & herself and that’s something I sometimes forget to do for myself. She’s constantly striving (look at me, weirdly talking about her as though I know her personally..here is that line between admirer & creeper, you guys..I’m toeing it :P) to better herself & hone her skills, but doesn’t seem to beat the shit out of herself if something falls short. And for all of the times that people come down on her for not being the token South Asian who apparently should be shouldering all of our historical burdens, a quote from Elle Magazine says it best, “She doesn’t rely on being Indian, but doesn’t deny it either.” That’s an amazing thing, especially in Hollywood! This is 2014. Be proud that a “f***ing Indian woman [has] her own f***ing show!” A network television show. That, for once, doesn’t stereotype an Indian woman (or man, for that matter) as an accent-harboring, oily haired nerd searching long & hard for an arranged marriage that will make the family happy all the while toiling away at a profession they hate. And for those who say, “Yeah, but she still plays a doctor! How Brown.” Yes, she plays an OB-GYN as an homage to her late mother’s profession, not because of the Indian generalization associated with it. Mindy’s created a show for us single 30-something women that shows the real, if sometimes exaggerated, colors of dating & working (especially for us New Yorkers). I have known people my whole life who, despite being Indian, have only dated non-Indian people. It’s not Mindy’s job to make sure that every South Asian actor has a job, or to make sure that Dr. Mindy Lahiri dates South Asian men just because she is South Asian. That’s a reality that people really need to get on board with. Her job was to create a show that is funny, that people will enjoy, & that she’s proud of, and in that, she has succeeded tenfold.
I think I may have been happier than Mindy Kaling & the cast and crew themselves when The Mindy Project was renewed (early) for a season 3. The show is my happy place. It’s found its groove (even though I personally have loved every episode since the pilot) & there are times you have to watch it twice to catch one-liners you may have missed because you were too busy laughing at something else that just happened. It makes me literally LOL (which only Friends & Gilmore Girls have done) with its quick witted dialogue, pop culture references, equally intelligent and silly humor, & incredibly individual characters; and to know that Mindy’s in charge of it all (with a great team, of course) just makes me wax poetic about her even more. I have been having quite a few shitty days lately & I’ll be damned if Morgan Tookers’ innocent creepiness or Danny Castellano’s curmudgeon-y behavior (red grandma glasses intact) or Mindy Lahiri’s insecure self-confidence don’t give me at least that full 21 minutes of reprieve from real life. If you haven’t given it a chance yet, I suggest you spend the next 9.5 hours watching season 1 & season 2 on YouTube in order to prep for the one hour return tonight at 9PM on FOX. I know I’m going to be sipping on strawberry ale in my TMP cup saying “HOW DARE YOU!?” to anyone that attempts to disturb my cloud 9 of comedy.
P.S. Mindy, if you ever end up reading this, I’m just kidding about the BFF thing. I love my tier, but I’m totally available, so call me! “Winky face.” 😉
We all have friends (this is a relatively secure assumption). We’ve made them over different times in our lives, on numerous journeys, at various ages. But how many of you still have them all? I know I don’t. Friendship is a funny thing in general. I mean, how do groups of people find each other & forge a bond that’s strong enough that makes them want to spend time together over & over again? I find myself wondering that all the time when I see people on the train or at restaurants or elsewhere; how did you all meet, where did you find each other, how did you connect? (Yes, I realize this makes me sound like a creeper, but I’m owning it, people.) Nevertheless, it happens & you go through life with these people who you’re connected to and when you’re young, you’re all BFFLS & BFFAES and when you’re in high school, you’re all about the cool kids & who’s wearing what to the pep rally if not a cheerleader uniform (btw, none of those were me because I was a bony little nerd, a fact I have finally accepted later in life). College comes around and you find like minded individuals with similar interests and passions (read: freedom & drinking, meant: poetry, dance, film, science). Real life finds you meeting people who are settling down, accepting responsibility, becoming “grown ups.” Now look back on all of those times in your life; how many of those BFFs are still around?
If you’re like me, you have numerous & varied circles of friends. If you’re like me, you also have had incidences & circumstances which rendered much change in those groups & relationships. I can honestly say I vividly remember & still keep in touch with many of my friends from elementary school through college (thanks, Mark Zuckerberg!). Are we close? No. But our lives are interwoven with fond memories of becoming adults, and now, social media milestones that still allow a thread of a connection both to each other & to our common pasts.
Unfortunately, time plays its part as do the growth and change of personalities & the people who have them. There are so many friends that cross my mind on a regular basis who I don’t think I’ve spoken to in months, & in some cases, years. So many of the girls from my college dance troupe who have witnessed many of my most catalytic moments, I don’t talk to much anymore, & this is after forming a close bond over 4-5 years of all night practices, 5 hour lunches, open bars, parties, performances, travel, tears, fears, laughter, girl talk, boy talk, & sleepovers. I admire them still & stalk lives via social media, but it’s a tentative connection, albeit based on true love for them. I can still say, however, when it so happens that we do meet, that core of friendship picks up quite quickly, & we will always be bound (in a non-criminal way) by the matching tattoo that 10 of us have depicting the passion that brought us together; dance. Medical school was a whole other story. We all became “family” very quickly (admittedly, due to me trying to make the best of an intimidating situation for all of us) and when you’re stuck on a tiny little island for 16 months (or more), studying instead of going to lay by the crystal clear turquoise waters that are right below your balcony, you become realllly close reallllly fast and things can get pretty dramatic pretty fast too. But what happens when you are back to reality (oops, there goes gravity..jk) and seeing your old pre-island friends and trying to readjust to non-island life? Some things can fall apart, and some things stay glued together. In my case, I was lucky to be able to hold on to some very true & real friendships with people who, although I’ve only really known for 7 years at this point, are some of the closest confidantes I have. They may not all be very good friends with each other, but they are very good friends to me, and that is probably the one thing I came away with from Caribbean Med that I treasure the most. Unfortunately, there are also some people who I was unable to stay connected to & although that gives me little pangs now & again, there is clarity in hindsight, and the reason for the disconnect was always valid.
At the end of the day, all of those little clichés about people coming in & out of your life whether for you to change them in some way or for them to change you (for better or worse) ring loud, ring clear, & ring true. I’ve had friends who have made me less trusting, friends who have made me more hopeful, friends who have made me more perceptive, friends who have made me more suspicious, friends who have made me brighter, and friends who have dulled my luster. But for a brief moment in the timeline of our lives, we intersected, we connected, and we loved; and sometimes, that’s just plain good enough.
To all of my own lost connections, be they by chance, choice, or circumstance, know that I think of you often. When a certain song comes on or when I smell something familiar or especially when I’m pondering on the past (which I do more often than I’d prefer), I wonder what you all are up to and hope that you are happy & well. There will forever be people and places that will own a sliver of your memory and a part of your heart. And to borrow from John, George, Paul, & Ringo, all these places had their moments, with lovers & friends I still can recall. In my life, I loved them all.
Unisex everything is a trend that has been around for decades; not always at the forefront, but always there. I remember my men’s sweatshirt/jacket days back in high school & the huge hoopla surrounding the release of CK 1, the first unisex fragrance (which I would totally still wear if it didn’t evoke memories of nerdy days gone by). And though the days of women in XXL men’s sweatshirts & jeans are mostly long gone, the era of boyfriend jeans & boyfriend tees still prevails. Boyfriend tees are great & all (HELLO, Mossimo at Target, $8!), but there’s just nothing like creeping into my brother’s closet (sorry Boogs, if you don’t know, now you know..) & borrow hoodies & tees that I can then wear over skinny jeans & a sweet pair of flats. So, go ahead & surreptitiously (or if they’re nice, just ask) borrow your brother’s, significant other’s, or grandpa’s clothing (Macklemore style)..OR just go out & buy menswear just for YOU..and be too unisexy for your clothing!
Seen above, sand faux leather & cotton lightweight jacket (21Men), black cotton tee (21Men), indigo skinny jeans (Forever 21), & classic B&W checkerboard loafers ($4.99, Charlotte Russe..a proud buy!). Sustenance consideration provided by Dunkin’ Donuts. 😉
Today’s Interlude: “Man! I Feel Like A Woman,” Shania Twain
This is probably my most personal post yet & I’m hoping I actually hit “publish” before deleting the whole thing. I don’t know about you, but over the past decade or so, I’ve been hearing much more about “anxiety” than I ever have before, or maybe I’ve just gotten older and have had way more experience with it than I’d like. Most of us use the word “anxious” as a substitute for “nervous,” & although they have many overlaps, trust me when I say they’re completely different things. I was nervous before launching my own company, I am anxious all the time.
I’ve always been a relatively confident and logical human being. Yes, it’s possible that I’m more emotional than most & feel things very intensely, but I could always rationalize and understand situations without suddenly feeling like my world was crumbling. Over time however, I’ve realized that I started developing a real anxiety issue. I can attribute this to situations from my childhood & failed relationships & starting medical school and quitting medical school, and a plethora of other events that could cause anyone minor anxiety, but for me, it has ballooned into an unmanageable situation causing dysfunction and deflation. Add those events to the life of an already introverted, hyper self-aware, super-emotional, over-imaginative pessimist & there is only disaster.
Lately, I’ve started worrying about things that have only the most miniscule chance in hell of happening, but I worry about them constantly. My parents’ health woes took a huge toll on me & now I stalk them like a little creepy shadow daughter. The idea is that if I am always there with the people I worry about, then I can control the situation and in turn, the scary thing I fear will not occur. This is not logical because I have not yet been cloned (& I don’t think anyone who knows me would even allow that for the sake of their own sanity) & I obviously cannot be everywhere at once. This fact alone causes me great anguish because lack of control over something I feel deeply about is something that drives me completely nutty (currently, I’m only partially nutty). The lack of control over my negative thoughts (please see header image above..that’s literally me in cartoon form) sends me into an anxiety spiral that I usually need my inhaler to get out of. What’s also fun is that an anxiety attack can mimic symptoms of a heart attack & I usually end up sweating & short of breath, with chest pain & tingling limbs; a fantastic thing to watch in a notorious hypochondriac (someone should really take me on the road as a traveling one-woman emotional circus, might as well cash in on myself).
The problem with anxiety is that it’s sometimes overlooked & treated as though it’s a minor issue that an individual who suffers from it can get past by just changing their thoughts. “Just think positive! Control it! Count to 10!” Hello friends, if changing thoughts & inner processes were that simple, who out there wouldn’t be a perpetually happy, content, self-assured person!? I don’t even know that the worst-case scenario thought is coming before it’s already onto catastrophic proportions-case scenario! It’s an agonizing & literally physically and mentally exhausting condition when it gets too far (a la moi) & even more so when the individual refuses to ask for help and believes that they can sift through their irrational concerns on their own because that’s what they’ve always done (again, a la moi), because then there is an internal battle of why won’t this go away like it always has & will this get worse if I don’t explain it to someone else out there? I could go on & on about the stigma of such disorders that is out there, but honestly, you can just Google that and get more articulate & thorough information out there than I could provide for you. I’m not the biggest fan of therapy or drugs (I know that’s rich coming from an ex-medical student with a psychology major/sociology minor, but..sorry?), but it’s not because of any stigma. I’m an advocate of all of the above..for everyone else. I’m not a talker, I’m a thinker & the idea of having to go through my life story & delve into my past with someone who knows nothing about me is less comforting than it is terrifying. And the idea of them giving me a houseful of Xanax is even worse. But recently, even I have had to admit to the fact that something has to be done for me, & more importantly, it has to be done by me. The 7 years of insomnia, the daily “what ifs,” the negative terror-thought cycle, the improbable scenarios, the sudden dread at nightfall, and the immense need to control situations and people would be beautiful traits written for a character in reel life, but they don’t belong in my real life (but in case anyone in the industry is reading this, I can totally play myself if you decide to bring that character to life; Oscars, here I come!). 😛
What I can say is that I know that I’m not alone. I’m upset about that because I wish no one had to suffer through the constant crippling & paralysis that severe anxiety has on one’s day/goals/social life/entire life, but I’ve finally understood & come to terms with the fact that it can be managed. What we all can do & should do is be people who support one another, empathize with one another, & understand each other to the best of our abilities (this is true whether you suffer from it or not, btw).
In the words of Bastille, “But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” The new & hopeful words of my inner self are just beginning to form an answer..I am gonna be an optimist about this. I have a fabulous life to live.
P.S. If you suffer from anxiety, there are apparently a million resources out there, check ’em out here.
Today’s Interlude(s): “Don’t Let Me Get Me,” Pink & “Happy,” Pharrell Williams (kind of a before & after thing)
I couldn’t begin to tell you when my obsessive love affair with travel began. I credit my parents who always made it a point to take the family to a new place annually, & from then on, all I ever wanted to do was to be in a new place every week. Out of all of the places I have traveled, & I’m discounting New York & Mumbai/Bombay because they are home, two of my most j’adored cities are London & Paris. Now I know you’re all saying, “Ok, what a cliché, you loser. Everybody loves those two.” And I’m replying, “Relax, that’s mean, and when I mean favorite I mean if I could live in 3 cities at once, I would, & if I could marry a location, I’d say ‘Oui Oui’ to Paree & ‘Hip hip’ to London” (couldn’t make that last one rhyme).
I’ve been to London & Paris 3 times; once in the summer 1994 when I was 12, once in the summer of 2010 when I was 29 as part of a 2 week European excursion, & once in the winter of 2012, when I was 31. Each time I experienced the same thing in the form of adoration & elation, and different things in the form of feelings, things to see, and perspectives. I was born an Anglophile (causation could be that I was conceived in London on Valentine’s Day-sorry for the TMI but I had to know it & so now, do you) and everything about England makes me unabashedly happy; the accent, the whole magical land, the history, the architecture, the people, & so long as the Brits are okay with it, the monarchy. The amount of Union Jack clothing I own is becoming concerning, & my crowning glory in life is when multiple real life British folk told me that my British accent is, & I quote, “quite posh & not terrible.” The fact that I refer to this as my crowning glory tells you something about me that we’ll save for another day.
Though I can’t articulate my love for London (& the rest of the country), I can tell you where I had some of the best times of my life & where I think you should do the same. Do the touristy things, but don’t hop on that hop on-hop off big red Clifford bus! Grab a map, get familiar with the Underground/”tube,” & off you go. You’ll save pounds while losing pounds (haaaa) and you’ll see everything in a brand new light. If you want the history and all that, grab a guidebook or read something from the library. The only way to experience London is by exploring it. The usual tourist spots include The London Eye (highly recommended if you don’t have a fear of heights or motion sickness), actually going inside Westminster Abbey, standing in front of & hearing Big Ben chime at 12, trying to talk to a guard at Buckingham Palace before or after The Changing of the Guards (which my brother did when he was 5 & pretty much drove the poor man nuts). Watch a play or a musical on the West End (I saw Les Miserables the day I landed with jet lag when Nick Jonas was in it & I loved it for many reasons), have dinner in Leicester Square & then grab drinks at The W there, go see the Kohinoor & the Tower Jewels (just don’t start yelling that the British stole it from India & the Taj Mahal & you’re going to get it back a la, again, my brother & that way you won’t be arrested). I could’ve lived at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre simply imagining every historical character that was created/performed there. CAN YOU IMAGINE SEEING THE ORIGINAL A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM!? Walk along & see that London Bridge is still, in fact, intact & no one is locked up in there as the creepy children’s song suggests. Go to Nando’s & eat chicken with the hottest Peri Peri sauce they have because that’s the right thing to do in life, saunter down Regent Street & either think of your hometown mall that has all the same stores like I do (also because 1 pound is approximately 3 million dollars) or be that cool person & actually buy stuff from there because you can. Stop in the middle of Trafalgar Square in the evening hours & just look around and think about how lucky you are that you’re in London & how much cooler it would be if I were with you! The cruise on the Thames is kinda fun & boozy, so definitely do that. Hop on over to the Warner Brothers Studio in Leavesden and see all of the real sets and props from ALL EIGHT HARRY POTTER FILMS. And never show me those pictures because I have yet to do that & it would be depressing if you went before I did. If you’re creepy like me, the London Dungeon is the most fascinating place ever & whoever the sicko is who decided to charge people to go there is a mild genius. If you’re really bored in London, although why you would be is beyond me, go to Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum & compare/contrast it to the other billion Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museums. If you’re in the mood to feel Indian (whether you actually are or not), you can go to Southall or Brick Lane and partake in the culture within the culture. In the mood to set fire to your stomach lining? Try the infamous Bollywood Burner challenge at The Cinnamon Club or the Curry Hell challenge at the Rupali Restaurant. This is not an endorsement because personally, I’m emotionally attached to my intestines. Visit Sylvia Plath’s house if you’re into morbid literaries as I am, & then cheer yourself up with some retail therapy under Harrod’s iconic green canopies. And finally, hobnob & have high tea and watercress sandwiches with the high & mighty over in Hyde Park & let me know how that goes; I’ll probably be over in Notting Hill looking for Hugh & Julia. Actually, I’m always looking for Hugh, London or anywhere.
Go in the summer & go in the winter (we went for New Year’s Eve & it couldn’t have been greater). Go whenever you can. The city is rich with culture, history, modernism, and life. London’s Ministry of Tourism should really consider hiring me, although I’d much rather prefer The Ministry of Magic.
And, one 2.5 hour Eurail ride later, we’ve arrived in Paris; the city of love, lights, croissants, & Chanel. I love Paris a little less than London because some of the people there aren’t quite so friendly (the rumors are true, in my experience at least), but I j’adore it nonetheless. I had always imagined sitting on the grassy banks of the Seine jotting away in a journal, gazing at the Eiffel Tower, & sipping my hot chocolate since a latté would have me zig zagging through the banks of the Seine. Though that particular fantasy has yet to occur, I’ve fulfilled many another in my Parisian trips thus far. As I watched the Eiffel Tower come into view my first time there at the age of 12, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that I was even there. I remember just sitting there, mouth agape, wanting to hug it (if you’ve gotten the impression that I’m extremely strange from the posts you’ve read on Champagne & Cookie Dough so far, you are absolutely right & I’m completely ok with you judging me). 😉 I was in Paris & Paris was in me and all I wanted to do was everything, which is what I want you to do too. Go to Nice. It’s nice (I’m killin’ it today, guys). Stroll down the Champs de Elysees from the Arc du Triomphe all the way down to the ferris wheel (I suggest summertime for this, my friends). Hang out at the bar at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, stay there ’til evening when the lights go on & sparkle on the hour. The day Disneyland Paris was announced to open, 11 year old me vowed to get there at some point. You can’t put two things like Goofy & Paris together & expect me not to get there. 20 years later, on the 20th anniversary of Disneyland Paris, the dream came true & it was spectacular. GO THERE DURING CHRISTMASTIME, IT WILL BE THE GREATEST THING YOU EVER DO! [warning: slight embellishment there, you will definitely do greater things] Get a pass for the métro & go roam the city of dreams, see the museums aside from the very beautiful but very obvious Louvre (But don’t forget the Louvre! It’s so much more fun to walk back & forth in front of the real Mona Lisa to see her eyes eerily follow you around while other tourists wonder wtf you’re doing)! Please, oh, please, go see the Notre Dame, marvel in its beauty & architecture inside & out, and then go to the Latin Quarter. This incredible area of bars & restaurants is one of the most fascinating and fun places I’ve ever been to. Various cuisines, a multitude of music, humongous portions of food & drink, and an eclectic mix of locals and tourists make this the go to hotspot for, well, people who like fun. Georges Café & their every-30-minute sparklers forever. Ride the carousel near the Eiffel Tower after you (physical ability permitting) climb up the stairs to the top of it, the sommet if you will (see how cultured I am, I remembered the sign from when I was wheezing past it). Go on a booze cruise on the Seine in the summer (clearly, you see I’m a fan of booze cruises if you’ve been reading the travel posts here). If you go during the Christmas season, nothing is better than the Christmas markets in front of the Eiffel Tower (please see my cool beer picture) & on the Champs Elysees (please see my macarón/homemade chocolate/flying Santa pictures). The market has everything from what I mentioned above to hot wine, fresh fruit, children’s rides, hot toddies, spiced ales, ornaments, blown glass, & more. The spirit is well & alive in Paris during the December days. Can’t forget to peek into Moulin Rouge because if you don’t, then why are you there anyway!? For a stellar view of the Eiffel Tower/Arc du Triomphe combo, try & stay at the Hotel Concorde Lafayette in the La Defénse area. If you don’t want to stay there, but still want the view, make sure to make window seat reservations in advance (& bring a fat wallet) for Bar La Vue on the top level of the hotel. Hot pink interiors, DJed sounds, & the most scenic view you could ask for (reminiscent of Robert @ MAD in NYC). If you leave Paris without eating fresh baguette sandwiches, giant chocolate croissants, & sumptuous Nutella & strawberry crepes, you are not a human being. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you. They will all melt in your mouth & make you wonder why you can’t date food and you will go home 291 pounds heavier but the bond you forged with that meal will last forever. Tired from all of the meandering? Pop into Shakespeare & Company and sit in their cushy little armchair with a tome to pass your time. Read something by Marcel Proust, Victor Hugo, George Sand, or Honoré de Balzac..& then go visit their homes that are now museums open to the public. Fashion fiends like me can at least see the exterior of Coco Chanel’s apartment at 31 Rue Cambon (the Chanel store is on the ground floor so go [window] shopping or something while you’re there). In the mood to drink where plenty of famous people just like yourself have? La Fouquet’s Brasserie on the Champs de Elysees. Brilliant brews, fine wines, tasty bites, and the most fascinating people watching ever! I had wanted to go every time I went to Paris & in 2012, I finally got the chance and it was completely worth it. Want to just relax and embrace the surroundings? Make a pit stop at the Tuileries Palace & Garden with a book and a baguette in 1st arrondissement. If that palace ain’t big enough for you, Versailles is only a 20 minute train ride away for you to relish in your royal reveries. Not enough reign for you? Take a 6.5 hour train ride, & there you are in Monaco/Monte Carlo. Enjoy the French Riviera, take in the classic view, & head an hour further to Cannes & walk your red carpet fantasies into reality.
Now that I’ve waxed poetic about Paris, you think France will reinstitute an actual monarchy & make me Queen? I look good in a crown & it can be my new, more literal crowning glory of life.
I’m not a local so of course I’ve left out plenty of things to discover in London & Paris (if you’re a local, please send me a list so that I can do them myself the next time I go, & there will be a next time)! However, I sincerely hope you can get to these cities one day, whether by yourself, with a significant other, or with your families. If you’re lucky, you will be able to do all three & treasure a completely unique experience from each one. Until then, keep calm & carry on, mes amis!
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For an even more COMPLETELY ABSURD amount of pictures of two of my favorite cities from 2010 & 2012, you can go here, here, here, & here!
Today’s Interlude(s): “Les Champs Elysees,” Joe Dassin& “Maybe It’s Because I’m A Londoner,” Hubert Gregg (video sung by Yavuz Ozisik)
Today’s Mood Ingredients: Contemplative, Introspective, Grateful. Hi! It’s been a while. Life suddenly leaped out at me & bit me in the rear. However, in the time that pretty much everything was happening all at once, I did realize a few things. I live a pretty good life. It’s not perfect by any means (& obviously no one’s lives are), it’s absurdly stressful, I’m ridiculously worried 20/7 (which is a spectacular upwards movement from 26/7, congrats to me), I want to do 9 million things with the time to do only 30, and I get frustrated that all of the above is occurring. I do, however, have working (albeit mildly arthritic-sadly, not a joke) legs, mobile arms (wing span situation notwithstanding), a functioning brain (up for debate), and a plenitude of opportunity (which I abashedly admit to not taking advantage of enough).
champagne & cookiedough 