Paris Sans Romance

We were choosing a place to meet and he said "let's go to Paris". Oh I laughed. The choices were Black Bear's Diner, a Mexican place, and the Paris Bagguete Café. The rest is history.

Now I'm sitting here waiting for my old colleague to arrive, he is late. Apparently his clock stopped in the middle of the night. And I don't mind. I got my latte and sat down blogging. Reflecting that funnily enough we had been to Paris together before. We flew into Frankfurt and then Copengahgen, Odens, and finally Paris and I was 5 months pregnant. That was a trip!

Looking out the window there is no reminder of that Paris. Oh how I long for a European vacation. Yet here I am. At Paris Bagguette, waiting and logging.

The Souvenir

Made myself a cup of coffee and absentmindedly brought the mug back to my office, set it on a coaster beside a pencil holder made of shells, another coaster made of woods, and beneath a devil's eye.  Suddenly I noticed them all being souvenirs from far away places and long ago "friends".

The force of the time and necessities of lives had set us apart, me and those friends of the past.  I think about them occasionally still.  With some I have occasional communications, sending a congratulatory note for the birth of a new baby or for their birthday.  With some however, there seems to be nothing else to be told.  And it hurts.  Then I paused in the middle of that thought.  Do I want to be reminded of them, day in and day out, by using their souvenir around the office?  Well of course I thought.  They used to be a friend.  Kind enough to bring me a gift and dear enough for their gift to be treasured.  Yet a nag came back up: were they a friend still?  Surely not.  So whom did I want to be reminded of?  A person in the past who nonsexist now, or the person they were today who was not a friend, or anybody for that matter.  Just a person like any other millions of people out there. Except all the reminders about them pushes the dagger in my heart ever so slightly but surely.

I look at the souvenirs again.  All authentic and pure in their presence yet hurtful at some level with a reminder.

This hurt is a new experience for me.  Fresh.  Foreign.  Ferocious. Unjust.  I know this is not how I live my life.  I know I will get over this one too and will let my heart heal.  In due time.  With or without a souvenir reminder.

Magazines

I rarely buy magazines and there is only Working Mom's magazine I have a subscription for, thanks to my M.  Yet I find myself gravitated toward them. I think what I like about them is how they stay in ones hands (ease of use?) and variations. There are a variety of reading to choose from based on ones interest and need. They are mainly repetitive after a couple reads but sometimes there are novel stuff found too.  Now spending some time on the library it's good to catch up with some sneak peaks.

Good People

Suddenly there are a few good people in my life. Some long-ago friends, some briefly-met acquaintances, some professionals, some service providers, some innovators, some pure helpers no strings attached. I came home fully satisfied with my daily interactions, alhamdolellah! World is still full of good people!

15

The picture is fading; I was watching it yesterday. There are fading colors on the edges and tiny eroded spots on the wood it was printed on. It has moved several times after all, from home to home, from country to country, cities and towns, year after year.  It has weathered.

And so have we.

Fifteen years ago.  First kiss. First dance.  All new and fresh.

Fifteen years after. Several kisses after. Several dances after.  All so familiar and second nature now.  Easy to forget.  Easy to get used to.

Yet we didn't get used to it.

We lived. Life was beyond moments to be watched passing. Life was to be experienced. Refreshed. Renewed. Even in the most dull moments, even when our hearts grew distant, even when life got us too occupied.  We continued refreshing, experiencing, walking closer rather than apart. We spoke and we heard rather than becoming silent sufferers of a contract.  We mended and attended.  We paused and assessed.  We preserved.  So we renewed to "us".

I'm proud of us and the fading picture too. Hope to watch it weather for ever!

Happy 15th Anniversary my M!

Lemme

"Now if I can't be your hotdog lemme be your little weiner

Baby if I can't be your regular man lemme be your in betweener

And if I can't be your human torch lemme be your submariner

Well hey baby don't you leave me this way lemme be somethin'

Yeah If I can't be your Abercrombie bitch lemme be your five and tener

If I can't be your all-the-time lemme be your now-and-thenner

And if I can't be your now-and-thenner lemme be your you-tell-me-whenner

Mmm hey baby don't you leave me this way lemme be somethin'

And if I can't be your datenut bread lemme be your soda cracker

And if I can't be your boom-a-dee boom lemme be your clickity clacker

And if I can't be your seven-course meal lemme be your midnight snacker

Yeah baby don't you leave me this way lemme be somethin'

Yeah if I can't be your lovey-dovey lemme be your flirty-flirty

And if I can't be your orchestra lemme be your little hurdy gurdy

And if I can't be your Mr Clean lemme be your Mr Dirty

Oh hey baby don't you leave me this way lemme be somthin'

Hey if I can't be your Sunday man lemme be your Monday action

Yeah well if I can't be your big big show lemme be your coming attraction

And if I can't be your coming attraction lemme be your momentary satisfaction

Yeah well hey baby don't you leave me this way lemme be somethin'

And if I can't be your bombardier let me be your tail gunner

If I can't be your serious love lemme be your just-for-funner

And if I can't be your big collision lemme be your hit-and-runner

Yeah well hey baby don't you leave me this way lemme be somethin'"

Read more: Shel Silverstein - Lemme Be Somethin' Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Chocolat. Again.

The North Wind blew but this time she decided to stay.  The gipsy chocolatier stayed to use her knack for people's favorites. "What do you see" as she span the magical plate and I wonder what I would see, what she would guess for me, what my favorite would be.

First time I watched the movie in Toronto in a cinema I found the Chocolat in Santa Cruz. Surprisingly this time, watching it by myself at home in Los Gatos, I have a feeling that it's going to reveal itself to me in another place, this favorite adventure of mine, the Chocolat.

http://m.imdb.com/title/tt0241303/

Curious Case of A Friendship

Once upon a time there was a friendship that ended unexpectedly, abruptly, unfairly. I told the story of the last rendezvous that never happened to another friend recently. She concluded immediately that it was a one way relationship, that I was the one holding on, that I was the only party keeping the candle of our friendship light.

Now in this sunny day in Indiana driving among the flat terrains and farmlands, I'm pondering on my relationships, of my friends near and far. Of those who are always there for me; and wondering if there is one that I'm the only one who is holding on. The one committed, always there. That I have been pulling along single handedly... Wondering that if I stopped pulling then would we find the connection nonexisting?

Indeed. No single relationship is perfect. Not all friendships are real. And indeed, it would be a shame to make a mistake twice.

Pumas in Rain

Got back to my hotel room soaking wet.

It was a warm cloudy evening. My manager and I had planned to meet in the lobby at 7pm and decide about dinner. I had about four hours till then. I called home, then took a short nap, worked on a couple reports and finally left the hotel around 5:30 to buy a new pair of light compact neutral sneakers for business trips. I first selected a pair of socks and then tried a few sneakers. Was hoping to buy Reebocks. They were my favorites in high school but there was only one pair available and I not appealing to my liking. At last picked my first pair of Pumas. Light, compact, neutral color. Got back in time to leave them in my room and meet my boss in the lobby just two minutes before 7. He was always always before time. In his very polite manner he "suggested" "shall we try hotel restaurant?" I agreed with a smile relieved from duty of yelping a good dinner place close by. After dinner which was heirloom tomato saad with salmon I declared that I needed to go for a walk. He declined so we said good nights and I headed to the parking lot. Four wide rows of parking. I headed toward the main road but when I heard footsteps behind me I immediately changed my mind and decided to stay within the hotel area, walking between the parking rows for 30 minutes. At 28th minute it started raining dampening my face and arms with pleasantly warm drops. What a fresh sense for a water deprived Californian!  Got my Pumas inside before they got soaking wet.

I think I have a decision.

Why don't I Quit

?

Night

Here is the night that is better than a thousand nights. The night that the Angels decend from the heavens and hear our every whisper of longing and desires and prayers. Here is the night that we are forgiven and provided a fresh opportunity to build our selves and our being.

Here is the night and I'm traveling the skies, literary, heading to yet another conference for work. I read the prayers for the night first, all by myself, from a book a friend had gifted me 15 years ago, written in Arabic with Persian translation. The ladies beside me never asked what it was I was reading. Then I wrote in my notebook and summed my prayers even though I knew God knew them all. Then took out my new Leadership Challenge book. Read a couple chapters, highlighted several lines, and jot down a few thoughts. Finally, I took out the Greek Salad I had taken on board with me and ate it while reading my book, the Wild, on my iPhone. The worlds of each of these books enormously apart and infinitely close.

Here comes the midnight. The dawn of a new day. The hopes of a new beginning. And the deep deep desire of being united with my loved ones. Far but close.

Yaa Noor