anecdotes, life, stories, words, writing

Nerves

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“I am sorry…I…I….sorry,” she stammered as she scrounged around in her sack of a handbag, digging around to find whatever it was she was going to present to me. One by one she started to take things out of her bag, a pen, two pen, few pencils, a really old motorola phone – I didnt even think these kinds existed anymore – a small opaque plastic bag, which I didnt have to peek inside to know the contents of. The wafting foul smell of beetle nut and lime told me it was doma*, a Bhutanese favorite snack. She paused when she put it out onto my desk, and looked at me for a second like she was going to offer me some, but decided against it to continue her search through the abyss of her magical bag – it was amazing how many things fit in it.

“Ahh….here it is,” she exclaimed and handed me a tiny tiny USB drive. “Can you please open it on your computer?” she mumbled. Some consultant I thought to myself. It was one thing to ask for a favor and help her with her work, it was an entirely different thing to actually carry out the work for her.

“You see, I am running out of time, I am running out of time,” she repeated. Her relatively young round eyes filled with anxiety. “Right,” I nodded back and inserted the USB into my sleek laptop’s USB port. Her mangled key chain of what appeared to be an extremely dirty teddy bear hanging off the USB in stark contrast to the shiny silver of my macbook pro. The file opened to my utter horror of chaotic pdf files, excel sheets, word documents, movies, books, jpegs, neither in order nor appropriately named. My OCD kicked into high gear and if I knew her better than just being introduced through a mutual friend some one hour back, I would have offered to organize her files on the USB. As she looked through her files to look for whatever it was that she was going to show me and ask for my help, I noticed all her paraphernalia still scattered across my desk. Her slightly large tego** sleeves skimming over my desk zen garden. I inhaled a sharp breath of air in panic worrying her lovely purple sleeves would leave an uninvited line across the sand perfectly styled in symmetric curlicues.

“Umm….,” she mumbled and rested her face on her hands and her elbows uncomfortably close to me. “Here,” I said and got out of my chair allowing her to move closer to my laptop so she could look at the screen better, but also for myself because the smell of unsolicited beetle nut and her chaotic hair and slightly running mascara was irritating me, but also garnering some deep level of sympathy because she was everything I tried not to be. I felt guilty I was judging her in that moment. She paused and looked up like she remembered something, picked up her bag and starting digging through it again. She pulled out a notebook, a compact – which has obviously not touched her skin in the least bit today- and then some breath mints. “Here, have some,” she said and offered the mints to me. “Umm, no thanks,” I said and asked if she found the file. “I think its not here,” she said and smiled at me. “Anyway, I will go home and find it and will come back when I have it, if its okay with you,” she half asked and half declared rhetorically. “Okay….?” I responded quizzed by the coolness and ease and chaos with which this woman went about.

She moved across my desk, swiped her entire arm across my desk and literally chucked all her things back into her gunny sack of a hangbag. I handed her the USB, as she got up. “Thank you,” she said. “I really dont have time and now I wasted the last hour getting nothing done,” she said laughing. “Okay, will come back soon, thank you for your help,” she said and walked out of my office. I plonked myself down on my chair, energy drained by that whirlwind of a personality. The speed and chaos with which our interaction ensued confusing the hell out of me.

I never heard back from this woman.

doma* – In Bhutan the areca nut is called doma. The raw areca nut, which is soft and moist is very potent and when chewed can cause palpitation and vasoconstricting. This form is eaten in the lower regions of Bhutan and in North Bengal, where the nut is cut into half and put into a local paan leaf with a generous amount of lime.The fermented doma has a putrid odour, which can be smelled from miles.
tego** – Toego or Tego is a long-sleeved, short jacket-like garment worn over their traditional kira by women in Bhutan.

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anecdotes, contentment, embracing yourself, girl, lessons, life, love, moments, ramblings, stories, woman, words, writing, youth

Moments Like This

girlHave you ever had that experience when you seem to catch yourself in the midst of a moment, and in that precise time you realize, and feel, that everything is exactly as it should be. That you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. Now, this is not to be confused with having something wonderful happen to you, like some celebration where the elated joy makes you giddy and you think, ‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.’ This content moment I am talking about, and because it is precisely that…a moment in the midst of regular moments when all of a sudden you realize you are content with everything just as it is. Well, I had that over the weekend at what was my first house party in a very very long time.

I glance around the room and every one is exactly where they should be. Laughing, talking, kissing, and dancing in slow movements to what is clearly rock music blaring through the speakers. Giddy off of the sips of Jack and Coke, and possibly from all the hot-boxed second hand smoke from all the pot heads in the room, your spirit undeterred by what would usually be the thing that makes you turn your snooty nose up in the air, basically the cheap neon Christmas lights haphazardly stapled to the ceiling to give the basement the illusion of a space more often used than when mom and pops need to store away the old stuff. Everyone is a little trippy but you’re okay with that. The guy you made unusually rom-com like eye contact with as you walked down the steps to the ‘Boom Boom Room’ makes slow strides towards you and in a classic teenager-like move slips his large hands around your waist. Still, this feels right. Like this is exactly what needs to happen in this moment. It isn’t like I am that high either because everything is coming through crystal clear. I am fully aware of everything happening around me and to test myself I challenge myself to make the decision to stop the guy mid-kiss and walk away. I do it, successfully. Leaving him in the corner of the room, eyes like saucers now from the confusion. I laugh inwardly at my own weirdness.

In this moment I am aware of all my flaws but also all my virtues and I seem to be completely okay with it all. I accept them for what they are and realize that they don’t make me better or worse. They just make me me. This moment, infused with familiar faces and new ones, ones I will see again over the course of time, and others I will never ever remember, still feels like the best thing happening to me. I find myself with an unknown surge of confidence and an unprecedented level of comfort in just being me, in the exact shape and size and awkwardness and intelligence and inhibitions. I for once accept me and it feels pretty damn good. I don’t know what it is about the moment. Nothing deters me, not even the fifth time I am made to take an unappetizing jello shot made from fluorescent fruit jelly and what is clearly cheap vodka because it burns a trail as the jelly shimmies down my throat. No decisions made by me or made for me feels wrong so nothing is second guessed or thought twice about. This moment feels perfect, even when the a tiny part of my consciousness makes a nervous check on the super tan girl sitting down to snort what I counted as her third line. Boy I hope shes going to be okay. But even so, this moment feels great. For once I think maybe I can love myself just as much as I am capable of loving others. And this is a strange fuzzy feeling. One completely foreign to me.

I walk up the stairs and out back into the beautiful backyard. The sun’s rays make their first peeks bouncing off the water. The cool morning air feels luxurious against my sweaty skin from all the dancing in a windowless basement. I smile in contentment, wondering if this moment where I feel so sure and clear about how I feel about everything is something that will last. I wonder if it wears off as the buzz wears off, or the night wears off. I wonder if I can hold on to it. But I also realize that my body, with all its problems and imperfections is still capable of embracing everything and everyone, including myself, with complete satisfaction, never looking beyond the clearly demarcated white fence to glance at the grass on the other side.

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