Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Don’t Hurt Me

(Originally composed Monday, October 29, 2007)

Hit the wall
Crash into
Jerk your senses
A kick in your side
Or two kicks
A dull punch
Tune out
Leave your room
Leave your body
Thudding about
Ears hurting from shouts
Words that hurt
Can't believe them
Leave the room
Leave your body
Just for now
Come back for later
But leave now
Head in shock
Screaming
Just float away
Return when they're gone
It won't hurt
If you leave
Pretend
Whip, whip
They hate you
Leave
Take your mind away
Won't hurt if you pretend
Ignore
Don't cry out
You're not there
Leave
Dull your mind
Don't cry.

Silly the Dum Dum

(Originally composed Monday, October 29, 2007)

Yet another poem that I'm glad I moved on from.

My hands, my eyes,
My pretty colourful scarf,
My jeans, my boots,
My haircut albeit short.
My hands and my eyes,
The best of all, I learned.
The nailpolish, my eyebrows,
I looked so pretty in the dress,
Green velvet skirt, pretty black top,
Sparkles and glitter, soul aflutter,
Butterflies aquiver, dance on the river.
The most graceful of all,
Innocent and naive.
Sheltered, overprotected, unique she is.
Hilarious, her talk,
She laughs all the hours.
Energy from within, sunny & funny.
She makes him so happy.
These were a few of his favourite things.

Your Eyes

(Originally composed Monday, October 29, 2007)

All I can say is thank goodness I'm not in the same place I was when I wrote this poem last year.

I could fly with you
My spirit soared
Higher and higher
I danced on air
My heart felt free
I laughed after years
And I was not afraid
Anymore.
Oh, my heart sang in flight
The sun shone on my toes
Dancing queen once more
Could this be happening
Your care, gentle and loving
I saw your eyes
I saw your eyes, blast it
I saw it in your eyes
How could you deny it
I saw it in your eyes
I saw it
Don't turn your face away
I saw it in your eyes
Your trembling embrace
I saw the damn thing in your eyes
Your reaching out
Your reaching out
I heard you
I saw your eyes
All I needed to know
I crashed
Broke flight
Ripped my wings
You turned your face away
I loved you
Because I saw it in your eyes
I saw right in them
I broke my bones
Pieces and pieces
Crunched and smashed
I saw it in your eyes
Your eyes, dammit
They hunt me
Haunt me
Hopeful lights, afraid
Afraid to hope
I can never forget the sight
Of what I saw in your eyes
I saw some comfort
Some joy
Some hope
Some peace
Some fear
Some of my own twinkle & daring
At last
At last, at long last
Shall I search for that look again
Where do I search
I am afraid to look in the eyes of another
I don't want to see you there
Tell me what I saw
And set me to sleep.

Paramount Pictures presents

(Originally composed Saturday, September 29, 2007)

So I had a small assignment for my film class wherein I was supposed to compose some shots of a person going about their usual business. I don't know anyone in Tulsa really so I picked James, my coworker, who sits next to me and is readily accessible. I was going to compose the shots with my digital camera but James said I could use his video camera, so that's just what I did yesterday morning. The video isn't really a short film or anything, just a selection of shots. I'm just proud of myself because it's the first time I have filmed anything since the mid 90s. It's also the first time I have edited on a PC (as opposed to having never edited on anything before). Click here to see the video I made. :)

Jesus Christ Superstar

(Originally composed Sunday, September 23, 2007)

When I was a little girl, my mother would tell me stories about the various prophets mentioned in the Quran. One thing that really struck my fancy was that Hazrat Isa, a.k.a Jesus Christ, was prophecised to one day return to humanity. Now this was a huge deal considering that Muslims believe that the Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) is the last in the line of prophets sent from God, the first having been Hazrat Aadam a.k.a Adam. The only exception is Hazrat Isa because he would not really be (re)born but would descend from the sky in the same form that he was taken back in his time.

I had always secretly harboured the desire to be present in the time of a prophet. I daydreamed about the cool things I would do while being a member of the prophet's posse. Sadly, I couldn't even hope for a prophet in my own time. The return of Hazrat Isa looked to be my only chance. I just knew that I would be working closely with him. And what relationship would be closer than that of a mother and a son? I wanted to grow up to be the woman who gave birth to a prophet of God. Now that was not going to be a possibility what with Hazrat Isa not set to technically be 'born' again. In my eyes, only one option remained for me to maintain my close alliance with him, and that was to get married to him whenever he returned!

So yes, before I was the girl that desperately wanted to marry Captain Kirk, Kevin Costner, Robert Downey Jr., and various other male celebrities, I was the girl that wanted to grow up and marry Jesus Christ during Armageddon.

The thing about free tickets

(Originally composed Friday, August 24, 2007)

Apparently I won a trip for two to Orlando in a raffle at a travel agency. Anyway, I was supposed to sit through a presentation about timeshares before getting my ticket. I was slightly overwhelmed by the fake enthusiasm and obvious aggressive salesmanship when I entered that place. I've been reading a lot about sales pitches and negotiation so it was easy for me to see through all the excitement. The presentation was SO fake, I almost vomitted in my own mouth. The man made it seem like all the problems in the word could be solved by buying timeshares. Whatever. I have enough brains to see through that.

After that, I was taken to a table where a really well-dressed sales rep was supposed to convince me to buy timeshares that day. I really am not interested at this point in time, I was just there to get my free ticket to Orlando that they'd promised. But this guy kept trying to pressure me into buying thousands of dollars worth of vacation timeshares. He was nice and all but he was just trying to sell me stuff. All I kept saying was, I'd like to think about this and come back.

So he called another older salesman for some factchecking. This man was even more smooth than the sales rep. He was in his 40s and very very pretentious, as if he was my best friend or something. He tried to authoritatively give me some 'special' deal, and I just kept saying very straightforwardly, I need some time to think about it. Then this guy's tone changed. He was sitting 2 inches away from me, and he suddenly gave me this terrible I-think-you're-scum stare. I didn't know what to do so I stared back at him, right at his eyeballs, for about 15 seconds. He was trying to intimidate me. Then he asked me where I was from. I said India. Then he got sarcastic and angry and started telling the sales rep that I was just saying that I needed time to think and that in reality I wouldn't come back. He said that all Indian people do this. He started asking me, why do you people always do that? Blah blah blah blah. Then he told the flabbergasted sales rep to not bother because I wasn't going to come back. The he walked off.

I was so surprised. I asked the sales rep what that was about. The sales rep was terrified. He was like, I think he's frustrated. Then he said that he had noticed that Indian people do do this and he asked me why. I was really fed up and tired and wanted my free ticket. I just told him that I didn't know, I couldn't speak for 1 billion people. I also told him that immigrants leave everything behind and dont like tossing their money about. He was really embarassed and he said, well, we're all immigrants. I told him no, you're not an immigrant.

Then he really tried to salvage the sale by asking me to please please please buy something and to not be mad at him. I insisted that I needed time to think. Then I got sent to another lady who tried to sell me some more 'special deals'. I said I wasn't interested.

Then I had to go to another lady who finally gave me the tickets. I told her what nonsense had happened and I told her that I didn't know what that guy's problem was because it's not like I'm doing him a favour and I don't have to buy anything. She was stunned and she said that she was going to talk to her manager. I didn't really care. I had had a bloody awful week, and I had no time to deal with insecure ignorant people.

Geez Louise, I have never seen such morons in my life. And the sales rep told me more than once that he didn't like his current job and was thinking of applying for a job at my office of Deloitte.

I'm just very excited that the whole time I was at that office, I sat like a total statue and was seeing through all the fake pretension and feigned concern and 'special' deals and sales maneauvers. I don't know what planet they think I'm from, but I ain't stupid. I am just so excited that I quietly busted a senior salesperson's pitches. I matched this huge white man's superior intimidation stare for about 15 seconds, and I didn't flinch. I seriously have no tolerance for pretense.

Deloitte Film Festival

(Originally composed Monday, September 17, 2007)

Sometime in July this year, the Deloitte US firms and and Deloitte India firms got together and started an internal film festival contest. The goal was to get their employees together in teams upto 7 members strong to submit 3-minute videos that answered the question 'What is your Deloitte?'. These videos would be used for recruiting and other firm-related purposes. I got together with a team here in Tulsa, OK, and we submitted 2 videos. A total of 370 videos from the US and India made it to the first round, and every employee from those firms got to view and vote for their favourites. My team's video, 'The Green Dot' (http://youtube.com/watch?v=id0uHBuhXtY), won 2nd place. Each team member won either $3,000 or a trip for 2 to Los Angeles for a Hollywood VIP Studio Tour experience.

The Deloitte Film festival was mentioned in BusinessWeek magazine (http://www.businessweek.com/careers/content/sep2007/ca20070913_595536.htm?chan=careers_special+report+--+best+places+to+launch+a+career_best+places+to+launch+a+career) where the firm was rated as the '1 Place to Launch a Career', and there is a chance of the videos being aired on Good Morning America. Deloitte also has a whole PR strategy planned.

Making the videos was great fun. I didn't realise how much work goes into it. You might catch me in one little scene at the end of our winning video, but I actually did more of the camera and behind-the-scenes work. We had a blast! I'm really lucky that I worked with a very talented team. :)

Atavistic Optics

(Originally composed Monday, August 13, 2007)

My niece has funny-shaped eyes like her dad (my brother). I wrote a poem for her when she was born. I call it 'Atavistic Optics'.

Once upon a time
A long time ago
Lived a man of brown
With eyes likes yours.

We know because
His son, you see,
He told his own
"Son," said he,

"Eyes of squint,
Shiny as shine
A curious light
Brown grapes on vine."

In that land
Of people of brown
Eyes like that
Never had been found

But the man whose eyes
Stood out like so
He passed them not
To his son, we know.

And yet once more
Those eyes were hid
As that son had sons
And those sons had kids.

But one of those kids
From one of those sons
To the West he flew
With eyes like none.

Eyes that you
Forever will hold,
Eyes that are
A hundred years old.

Unbelievable

(Originally composed Monday, August 13, 2007)

On a bad day early last year. I had a lot of those for a while. This one's called 'Unbelievable'.

I shall keep writing
About my pain
I shall keep writing
Until it goes away
My heart, good God
It churns in hurt
My mind, this mind
It can't forget.
What could be
The matter with me.
I've been dancing in a dream
And I woke up in tears
What happened to me
What happened to me
I wish someone'd tell me
How to stop this hurt
That won't let me be
I've tried to work
To play it away
I've tried to cry
To laugh it away
To sing it away
To dance it away
To dress it away
To sleep it away
To read it away
To write it away
But it comes back
It won't go away
I am thinking clearly
Willing it to leave
But it's like something in me
That isn't me
That won't leave
Could I have been dreaming all this time
Did any of it ever happen
I hate this
What this has done to me
I don't want this to be like this
I want my heart to heal
But it won't
Why won't it?
How can this be?
Just get me out of here
Somebody please
Oh God, please.
Please help me
This is like something that has some control over me
Why can't I will it away?
My heart is so broken
My life feels empty
I think something's wrong with me
What's wrong with me
Why does this not go away
Why does it stay
I want to be me
The person I used to be
I don't want to cry over this anymore
I don't want to but I can't stop
Please help me
No one can help me
It is so horrid
It's like a nightmare
It won't go away
I can't believe it
I can't believe it at all
I can't believe this is me

Downtown Cinderella

(Originally composed Wednesday, July 18, 2007)

Monday afternoon, lunch hour - I was quietly walking to the Subway in downtown when my right shoe suddenly screamed and fell apart right in front of the Bank of Oklahoma building on 4th street. There I stood in the noon sun, my mind already in a tizzy. Should I walk barefoot? Am I flighty enough to risk looking ridiculous walking about in business casual with no shoes during the lunch hour when the whole world is up and about?

I didn't think so. 30 seconds after the top of my right sandal came off in one clean piece, I decided to call someone from the office to come drive me to my car so I could go home and secure some footwear. In the 10 minutes Cinderella multitasked waiting for her carriage and acknowledging her skin getting hotter by the second, she wondered if she should've tossed her sandals last year when they fell apart the first time instead of trying to beat the Wicked Stepmother economy by super-glueing them back again.

When my ride showed up, I picked up my right sandal and made an action-hero dive into the passenger seat. Once I got to my car, I drove home in the 100F heat on a super empty stomach, chucked the sandals out, got into another pair, drove to the nearest Subway, wolfed down a footlong sandwich, then drove back to the office. The whole escapade took 1.5 hours, and by the time I was back at my cube, I was exhausted, slightly darker, with mild exposure to the sun. I was late for a meeting but I had called in long ago to let them know I'd be late...because my shoe broke.

What I learned from this episode:

1. Superglue doesn't hold up to heat for very long.
2. You forget how hot the pavements can get when you wear shoes.
3. My apartment looks very cosy and inviting in the middle of the day.
4. There is a spider in my bathroom that only comes out when it thinks I won't be around.
5. Cell phones are a boon, not a bane.
6. Standing in the sun or sitting in a hot car for a long time on an empty stomach with the sun beating down on you like it's no one's business is a recipe for sunstroke or at least heat exhaustion.
7. As if I didn't have an anatomical excuse before, but now I can really brown-nose.

Freestylin' my rage

(Originally composed Tuesday, July 3, 2007)

Here's another, and yes, I am miffed.

Apathy

I could wear high heels but I won't
I could use eye concealer but heck no
Maybe some straightener in my hair but no
Maybe sometimes but not everyday
I said no

Not all the time I don't want to
Are my eyebrows mirror images, I don't know
Do I pluck do I shave do I wax
Do I do it for you
Should I for you
I don't want to
I don't want to
Bugger off
I said no

It's not real
The perfume
The plaster
The paint
The grease
The lotion
The sexy walk
That goes tick-tock
What's real is the pain
The hurt and the strain
The cracks and the wrinkles
The future gray sprinkles
In my hair on my face
The strength of my back
That cries when I'm strong
When I still go on and on
The realness of what
Doesn't die when I hurt
It won't die when it hurts
That's what real
And I don't care if you can't see
What's real and what's not
Because it's time that I
Am apathetic
To you

At a low point

(Originally composed July 2, 2007)

I scribbled the following poem at a particularly horrid moment last week. I'm definitely not a poet, but I couldn't help this one. Note to readers: I am generally not so low but stoicism didn't help this time.

Stand Up

Will anyone ever stand up for me?
Will anyone ever stand up when I'm down
And announce
How dare you
How can you speak like that to her
Who do you think you are
Do you know all the good that she has done
Will there ever be a time when someone will stand up
When I feel weak
Will anyone ever accept me exactly how I am
Without any criticism
Will anyone ever stand up for me the way I stand up for others
Has all the good I've done gone to waste like it never happened
How can it be
That I work so hard and it doesn't mean a thing
Does it mean anything when I hurt
It hurts, it hurts
I feel the burdens
They crush my shoulders
And I don't say a thing
But it hurts when no one sees it
And it hurts when no one appreciates it
It hurts when no one stands up for me when I'm down
I hurt
And I wish that I were asleep in the earth
Because that would be better than this neverending weight and the whippings
Who will lift me when I'm falling
Who will do it
Because nobody does it
Nobody
Not a single person
Nobody cares
Not a single person