I spectaculary failed my drivers test. It didn't even last 2 minutes before I knew it was going downhill. Parallel park scrwed me over. Or rather I screwed up parellel park. It's always so easy to push the blame on something that wasn't under my control.

Diwali came and went. Life kinda carried on as usual. Orkutters wished me and I recieved a few random smses including a loud and colorful sms from my Dad which amsued me to no extent. These are pensive days for my family. We stand on the throurghfare, between India and America, weighing our options. Mum says to me that I don't talk about India the way I used to. She says that it doesn't look like you want to come back. I don't let her claims break me. Instead I respond and make sure she knows why I am here. I feel no shame or embarrasment in saying that I am here for the better life I can provide for myself and people I love. I feel no shame in saying that I am here because I can earn more money here. And then I'm here because I love it here. My life is now here. I found love here. That is as truthful and honest as the color of my blood.

But some feelings are best kept at bay. I struggle with trying to erase the harsh memories of my first few years here. My parents had been warned that to send a child so young away would be a mistake. I had been warned, but I wanted the taste of that forbidden fruit, I wanted to reach those dreams. I speak of those years now like I' m narrating an oft-seen movie that you aren't particularly fond of but hold an irresistible urge to share your review with everyone. Maybe because I am still trying to understand the (in)signifiance of those tears? I ask myself questions and I try to answer them myself. Why do we think that at 18 we know it all?
It's like those years robbed me something. What? I can't quite figure out.

This is not something I wish to disect and analyze anymore. Suffering moulds you into a tougher, stronger being. That suffering for love, approval, hunger and warmth. I wouldn't want to go through those years again. For nothing in the world. And for as long as I am alive, I know that I never want to be there again. Nor do I want anyone I love to worry about spending that extra dollar on food or the winter coat. There is no measure for suffering as there is none for sadness or love. There is no answer to how much have you suffered just as there is no answer to how much do you love me? You either learn from it or you break. And I'm still learning.

I think half the things people say to themselves or each other are horse-shit. Things to make ourself feel better. God knows, I'm guilty of that. (like telling ppl I failed my driving test becoz my instructor didn't coach me correctly. BS)
***

whoa. too much for one morning. on the brighter side, this friday a good friend of ours is visiting us after almost 1.5 years. friday is "the" night. we are geting drunk, stoned and everything in between. par--tay!