Excuse Me, My Brains Have Stepped Out Page 2

  Yes, frienemies are a special (common, but special) variety of people that come wrapped in the tinsel-dust of friendship and invisible wrapping paper called betrayal. These are the very people you should stay away from and yet you cannot learn about trust until you have met at least one or two of them. The sweeter their assurances of friendship, the deeper you will feel the wounds of betrayal when it eventually happens. As difficult as this is, I would think that the earlier you meet them and get it over with, the sooner you are able to learn the lessons you need to carry with you.

  Yes, as shocking as it may seem, frienemies teach you a very important lesson. They point you in the direction of the real friends who walk in when the rest of the world walks out on you. They show you, painfully but surely, that at the end of the day what really matters most isn’t what the world thinks about you, it is what you think of yourself.

  A little sad and confused but still yours–Anya

  JENNY SAID

  December 14, 2009

  I am very confused, Dad and I wish you were here to help. You cannot help being where you are and I completely understand that but a girl can wish, can’t she? I know enough to come to terms with the fact that I have to move forward. I would really love a teaspoon of certainty in knowing that some of the steps I am about to take will work out better than the past choices and circumstances I have allowed myself to be involved in. I know, I know, if you were here you would probably say, “Take a deep breath, Anya. Deep breath first and then think”. As much as I feel that I owe it to myself to strive for a healthy relationship with the person I love, there is this inkling of doubt that seems to confuse the rest of my senses. A small part of me feels that I cannot allow myself the torment of having my trust, love and heart shredded into pieces again. Here, a glance into your daughter’s poetic efforts and her very mixed-up emotions?

  Jenny said

  Right or wrong, true or false

  So many childlike games to play

  Love me he did, rob me he did

  Girl one minute, woman the next

  Do I really need to forgive?

  Jenny said

  Time is supposed to

  Heal my wounds, they tell me

  Time will make me better

  But, so long, and my wounds are still here

  Will I ever stop hurting to feel better?

  Jenny said

  I know my life is wrong

  I know my ways can be better

  I know many things that need fixing

  But all I want is some loving

  Can anyone love me and be accepting?

  Jenny said

  As he hits me, again

  And tries to break me

  I let my mind wander

  Knowing life can be better

  When will it be enough?

  Jenny said

  I want to leave him

  I want to be away

  But he loves me, you see

  Maybe this is the love I deserve

  Or is there really something better?

  Jenny said

  One day, I’ll find a love

  That is so great

  That is so accepting

  And loves me for who I am

  Why can’t I find this love today?

  Jenny said

  I am so damaged, beyond words

  I am so broken, beyond repair

  There are so many pieces of me

  There is no peace within me

  How can you love me?

  Jenny said

  There is no such thing as love

  Love happens to other people

  People who have love to give

  Why do you love me

  When I have none to give?

  DIARY READER

  Remember the story of Rumpelstiltskin, Dad? I am sure you must have read it to me at least a hundred times or so before you had to leave. I have drawn an image in my head about how that story can be connected with something or someone most of us have in our lives. Remember, there is that little wrenching bit where the queen cannot bear the thought of giving up her newborn child to the manikin that has helped her to her throne. She hires a messenger to search all ends of the country and when he spies a little man dancing around the fire, repeating his name, the messenger takes this information back to the queen, who of course, guesses correctly, keeps her baby and lives happily ever after. The diary reader is a person who has probably spent her entire life inspired by this story, believing that if you sneak up on a person and find out something about them (which is unknown to others) you are able to prevent a worse disaster from happening. Seriously?

  The diary reader is someone who cannot understand that diaries are never really a solid expression or judging ground of the person writing it. For most of us, diaries function as a brick wall that can take anything thrown against it. From foul language to bad imagery of what we can imagine ourselves doing, diaries even function as the rubbish bin that we dump our unwanted thoughts and emotions into. I would think diary readers cannot seem to understand that just like themselves, other people too are entitled to emotions they do not want to share. Some of us want to wait till everything is absolutely certain before we announce it, while others would like to think that there is an imaginary world they can comfortably slip into and proudly announce their greatest wish to be a Brad Pitt lookalike or to have a moonlit dance with Anne Hathaway.

  Not everything put on paper is final. Diaries can sometimes range from a series of jokes to a chain of letters to our favourite pop stars. In my case, I use diaries (okay Dad, I can feel your eyes rolling all the way from here) or any piece of paper I can get my hands on to write out descriptive characters and scenarios of fictional pieces that pop into my head. I want to do this to keep, to reflect on, to eventually build the award-winning story I envision myself writing or to one day simply have the opportunity to look back and say, my writing style has improved. Who knows maybe I will be on a best-seller list after all, eh Dad? Before I drift off into a completely different topic, back to where I was. Now, imagine what a joke it would be for someone to sneak through my stuff, read these entries and blab about them or confront me on something that well, never was.

  There are some people who use ‘safety’ as an excuse. They justify their need to peruse someone else’s private thoughts to ensure that person’s safety and their own. Well yes, given the state of how things are, if I had a twelve year old, I would not allow private access to a computer or to the Internet, even for just an online diary and chat with school friends. Too much has already happened to others for me to say I do not care about online safety. There will be questions and there will be shared passwords but there is that big word, ‘shared’. It is not about telling a child “I do not trust you”. I would think it is very much about telling them that the Internet is not so safe and we need to use it together. Just like crossing a road, you would not let any child cross it alone. It will always be “hold my hand tight” not “go run across the road and see if you make it to the other side”.

  Even more important, saying it is shared also means I can and I will look at it to make sure you are safe. This is a completely different scenario from knowing something has been kept in private and to then deliberately dig for it or to open it knowing full well the person is not around. Diary readers are people who seem to think that their privacy is essential but everyone else’s is not worth anything. Well, we all have our own ways and thoughts about the way things are supposed to be. But oh yes wait, then there is that other common phrase “We are having a bad patch. I do not understand her. I need to know what’s going on”. Trust me, if you can’t heal a broken relationship by talking face to face or with a good old fashioned hug and an “I am sorry”, you will not gain anything but more confusion, anger and unnecessary assumptions when you sneakily snatch a few glances at someone else’s diary.

  FIVE-STAR SPLENDOUR

  People the world over greet five-star hotels with “oooohhhsss and aaaahhh
hss”. Sometimes I think, if they had a brief glimpse behind the scenes of these so-called majestic places, they may rephrase their awe inspired gasps to a mere “oh” instead. Truth be told, five-star service personnel are not saints, angels or anything remotely close to the exceptional values they preach. The more you pay to stay at the property they work at, the less you probably mean to them, that is what it comes down to in some cases. They bask in the glorious perception that they are above others and they can be likened to royalty from around the world. But in reality, they are no different. They may have prettier faces with more make-up than other people or may appear a lot better looking with their designer suits but in some situations, they are far worse than you and I. What say you, Dad?

  Take for instance, the very ‘happily’ married General Manager who preaches excellence and stresses trustworthiness but is actually having an affair with his Director of Sales & Marketing. While they go to extreme levels to cover it up in front of their associates, they blatantly flaunt their passion for each other at a motel on the other side of town. It does make you wonder doesn’t it, how people slave at preaching one value and yet go around practicing another?

  Then, there is the Sales & Marketing Manager who puts on the best show for her clients. She is neat, accurate and prompt. You cannot imagine such good service at this day and time. The catch? For every deal a client signs or for as many as she can wrap around her little finger, she expects a little ‘reward’, preferably in cash but other tokens of appreciation are also welcome. During office hours, she will concoct imaginary appointments and use this time to pick, drop and shop with family and friends. A great sales person, indeed. But no matter how much of a satisfied customer you are, considering you know her working tactics, would you hire her?

  And what about that delightful, Food & Beverage Manager who is so enthralled by the ‘beauty’ that he and only he sees, he places the newest trainee to manage a bar, all by herself? Who cares if she has experience? She looks great in her uniform, very chic and those stiletto heels could make even a woman look twice, it all looks like it may just work, until one guest orders a gin tonic. She takes the gin bottle down from its shelf, turns it and reads the label on the back. You are tempted to do two things. One, you want to gently tell her that this isn’t a hot beverage where she will find “how to” instructions on the bottle. Two, you will just want to roll on the floor and laugh so hard that someone, somewhere will feel the ground move. On a less amusing note, there is the Executive Chef who openly curses about having to work with associates who are speech or hearing impaired. Ironically enough, this will be the hotel that advocates “caring for all associates”.

  Have you ever tried not paying a hotel bill upon check-out? Even when faulty payment is a result of their carelessness, observe how they will hound you for the payment. They will call you every five minutes if they can to tell you some sob story about how their manager is extremely angry with them or do the most professional thing they can think of and charge your credit card with or without your permission. After all, you did provide it upon check-in so it is now theirs to use when they deem necessary. Here is a twist. Do you know with all this money that they hound you for, how many suppliers go unpaid because of ‘incomplete’ paperwork? Yes, read that back again if you like. When you leave without paying and their paperwork is not complete, they will get their money by any means they can think of but when a supplier has offered them services expecting payment, red tape behold. You will never see anything like it. This form and that form, one would think it is an application to be a citizen of another country.

  Let us not forget the General Manager who openly asks you to share a room with him on your next sales trip. He jokes saying that the hotel needs to watch its budget and sharing a bed with you will ease his worries in more ways than one. When you say no, he most certainly moves on to the next employee that crosses paths with him. And of course, who can overlook the ‘Safety & Security’ Manager who conducts surprise checks on employee hostels. Any female associate caught in inappropriate actions will be given a ‘fair chance’ to redeem herself by performing sexual favours for him. As if we were living during the Great Depression, there is also the hotel chain that conducts regularly closed door sessions on how to ‘delicately’ terminate their ‘non-essential’ associates when one of their properties needs to close down for refurbishment.

  Is it just me or are there one too many contradictions where the grandeur of five-star service is concerned?

  LIVING OR DYING?

  January 29, 2010

  I remember calling you Da-Da as a child. I am sure you are smiling as that thought comes to mind.

  I am smiling too at memories of the times you were around and the memories I wish I could have had since you left. Much more than a smile, I have a tear trickling down my cheek as I write this letter to you. I really wish I could have spent more time with you. You must have had your own reasons for leaving and some day, I will get a grasp of this. Moving on, I want to tell you that I have reached yet another stage in my life. I now realize I have carried with me a sense of ignorance that people we love will somehow be around for as long as we are. In this bubble we create and shelter ourselves in, there are no illnesses, no accidents, no heart wrenching losses. Then one day, we lose someone so suddenly that only then do we try to come to terms with understanding how short life really is and how we make it a habit of taking people for granted, despite telling ourselves that this is not what we do.

  I lost a friend today, Dad. I am crushed. After years of fighting complications from her illness, she succumbed. When I got the news, I spent the day curled up and crying. Everything came to a standstill. I cried for her, I cried for the memories that we had, I cried because there just did not seem enough time to tell her everything I wanted to. I cried for the pain she must have felt and most of all I cried because I do not have her strength.

  Facing brain surgery myself, something she has already been through, the first thought that came to my head was to call off my surgery and take my chances. There is no need to always be heroic is there? And as much as I tried to break it down logically, I knew that it wasn’t death I feared. It was the process of getting there. The murky line between the way we want to live and what actually happens that leads us on this road we call our life journey.

  There is that pain for which no words can do justice and no one else can understand. The numerous treatments. Endless medication. The way someone looks at you, so thankful that they do not have what you have or that look of pity because they cannot believe you have lost so much of your physical appearance for the worst. When you have to tell yourself to hide from children for fear you may scare them. There is that special but emotional worn way family and friends become tied to your bedside, literally picking you up and sometimes almost forgetting that they have their own lives outside your illness. The times for when you want to reach out and thank them, for all that they do but all you manage are more pain filled screams. The agonizing days and nights that they will share with you, in and out of hospitals wishing and praying that it will all work out.

  I think, to a very large extent I have become so engrossed in thinking of the downsides and of all the things that could go wrong during the surgery, I failed to come to terms with the most important thing, it is not my call to decide my time of death but I do have a choice about how I get there. Death may come with that peaceful shudder or it may come after a long period of pain. I do not know what mine will be. I would like to think and tell myself that I want to be in control of how it all happens but that is as good as finding a needle in a haystack. I can acknowledge that it is beyond scary and nerve wracking when so much of your life depends on the unknown and you live each day expecting the unexpected. You pray everyday that some research facility millions of miles away will finally discover that ever-important piece of information they need towards finding a cure for you. There is more where thoughts like these are coming from. And yet, here I am. Today. Now.


  There is a simple decision I can make. I can choose the easy way out. I can give up, irrelevant of how much I am loved. Who needs a life clouded with pain and filled with so much doubt, something just cannot be right. Or there is another option, I can choose to live. Not for everything that has happened or is going to happen but for what is happening right now. I can hold each moment of everyday wrapped around me like the feel of Christmas morning and remember that every time I choose to give up, I am giving up on the people who have not given up on me. In giving up, I lose lessons about the love that looks past your surgical scars and bald head to hold you as you sleep or the friends that will teach you that geographical distance is only in an atlas and will be with you by any means they can and most of all, if I give up, I will never get to the purpose of why I am here in the first place.