Space.

Attempts to create, to etch an image of memory on the canvas of passing time.
Efforts to accumulate wealth, wellness and well wishers in the odyssey of life. Dreams to conceive, goals to achieve. Battles to win. Journeys to begin. All things rosy, All things pretty come and fall in the lap of living. A void remains.

A haunting fact that exists in the disappearance of the missing world when the eyelids of ignorance close on the eyes of knowledge drives home a point We all miss - There's nothing without when the identity of truth ceases to exist within
and what we see melts into oblivion, reminding us of the illusions we live in.

Recur.

Aarti seems to have taken after me on many fronts, except loving food of course (and her dainty frame explains why) And one of the many fronts that she has taken after me, is the love for music and the want to listen to some favourites on repeat. The song Turtle Dove, for some weird, unknown reason makes her very calm and meditative. She can be in her worst "I am going to throw a tempest like tantrum" mood and Turtle dove can make her take and about turn to " I am the sweetest, most manageable toddler walking on the earth" mood.

Just a few hours ago, she lulled herself to sleep in the over sized leather rocker listening to Turtle dove playing in BOSE lifestyle. I had a break clearing up the kitchen and doing the dishes. The moment I popped the CD into the player , her tender face wore the expression of eternal bliss and she could care less about cuddling, reading a book or listening to a story like she normally does before going to sleep.



Fare thee well my dear I must be gone

And leave you for a while

Though I roam away I'll come back again

Though I roam 10 thousand miles,

My dear Though I roam 10 thousand miles....



A see a personality, a little person with a big signature of who she is and what she likes and dislikes. Love for music, love for lip balm, nail polish, flowers, babies, black olives, aquariums, gold fish, french fries, apple wedges, curd rice, sunshine, outdoors and the list goes on.

More than all these things, the one thing that surprises me is her love for freedom, for individuality. No matter how clingy she gets when she needs me, she always tries to tackle her little chores and cares all by herself, independently.
Now I am not sure where she inherited that from - probably form her dad or her maternal aunts, definitely not from Mom.

Things seem to play in repeat here in our household, from music to blog entries, Love repeats itself - sometimes in the form of an English folk song and sometimes donning the costumes of words, love revolves around repeats - recurs that only get sweeter with every time they circle infinitely in the loops of life.






















Fare thee well my dear I must be gone

And leave you for a while

Though I roam away I'll come back again

Though I roam 10 thousand miles, My dear

Though I roam 10 thousand miles

Repair.

"C" pops out falling prey to little fingers - curious, destructive or plain bored. No clue why! I collect the bits of the key like a little girl treasuring her tooth to barter it for some moolah. On a different note, tooth fairies are morons! Don't you think? I place all the wee parts together. The key doesn't seem to find its usual spring. It gets stuck in an awkward angle printing "x" or "v" instead of itself. So "c" ends up in an identity crisis. I interwine to do something about the situation. The look and learn, I pry out "b" and break its dainty back. Now I grapple with both B and C. I grapple in present continous tense.

For the time being, my laptop looks like a young girl with two alternate front teeth knocked out. The keys with the delicate skeletons sit on the night stand carefully placed on the top of a bottle of Tylenol hoping for a laptop fairy to come and trade them for some bucks. I wish to wake up and find permanent keys grow back :-)

Wishful thinking also calls for wishing not to create one problem in hopes of solving another. "Re-Pair, Re-Think"

A bit of this, a bite of that!

Sometimes it doesn't happen. No matter what! The inspiration to write is like an urge to eat probably. Just yesterday I had this urge to eat a sandwich that is supposed to have an Indian flair to it. What did I do? Hunted the place down that was relocated to downtown Pleasanton and satisfied my craving. I wish writing a blog, or writing anything for that matter, was that simple. Or is wanting to eat something very simple? No I might say. I can have a gallon of luscious sweet cream and cake batter flavored ice cream form Coldstone right there in the freezer but it might not tempt me one little bit. Sometimes I just go to coldstone at close to midnight hoping for a miraculous extended summer hour and come back cussing (moderately:-)) everyone and everything responsible for the closed doors excepting yours truly and her unusual cravings for unusual things at unusual times.
Back to where I started and what I wanted to say, blogging is a bit like eating. You eat and enjoy or you eat just to exist. This is eating to exist. That's all ! I guess!