London

Whatever I expected from my return to London, it was not this. When I planned to stop here on my way to Tokyo, I expected a sense of homecoming, a feeling of relief and lightness after the frustration of life in New York. I expected to walk along the Thames, with my head thrown back taking deep breaths of London air, elated at being back in the only place that I had ever loved for itself. I did feel that way--for about one day.

I realized pretty quickly how much I had forgotten (or buried) about the time I lived here. It's true. . . we do start to see past experiences with rose-tinted glasses as time moves forward. But after being here for a day, the emotions of that time--both good and bad--came rushing back. London was where I formed some of my best memories, and my worst. It was where I was the happiest and where I felt the most alone. It was where I loved the most and with the greatest intensity, and where I experienced the greatest loss.

On my first day back, I basked in my pleasant memories, in the familiarity of everything I had expected. But as time wore on, the pain slowly crept back in. At first the familiar sights, sounds, smells seemed to welcome me back. But soon, that changed. At one point when I was living here, everything I looked at, smelled and tasted was tinged with utter misery and darkness. In the past few days, as I began to absorb my surroundings, that feeling returned--although to a lesser degree. And I realized that, while many of the memories have faded into the distant past and the feelings definitely long gone, the pain hadn't completely disappeared. I had peeled off the bandage too fast, expecting the wound to have healed completely, only to find festering remnants that I had just made worse.

It has been a strange few days. The night I missed the last train back to my cousin's, and spent the night wandering around Central London and shivering on the stairs outside Waterloo Station, didn't help. The return of an overload of pain-inducing stimuli didn't help. And the feeling of being suspended between the end of one life and the beginning of another didn't help.

Strangely enough, I don't feel a yearning to leave. . . I have enough good memories and people I love here to keep that at bay. All the same, I don't think I'll be returning to my beloved London anytime soon. . .

Good-byes :(

Nayma, Ruchika, me






Me, Caveboy
















Kris, me

















Me and Nev (with his favorite photograph face!)

















Mits and me




Nev and me


Sophia, me, Ilajna

Where are all the napkins going?

My predecessor left a large pile of napkins in one of my drawers. When I discovered the stash, I took a few out and put them in a little recessed area under my desk just so I didn't have to keep opening the drawer everytime I needed one (I'm a snacker, so that's a few times a day).

But lately, something weird's been happening. I take out enough for a few days, but, when I come in the next morning, there's none left! So everyday, I've been taking m0re out, in the hopes that they'll stay there for a few days. But the next day, they're gone again.

What's going on? Do I have another personality that's a compulsive napkin user? Or has someone else discovered my little collection? Or do the napkins come alive at night and flee when they realize they've been let out of their drawer prison and there's no one around? What do you think is happening?

Sayonara New York!!

That's it. I've decided that I can't live without Wednesday. I miss him so much that I've decided to chuck it all in and move to Tokyo.

Haha. . . just kidding! I'm not that big a loser. . . I mean, I am moving to Tokyo, just not moving there for Weds (although Nev contends that Weds is my real reason for going there).

So yes, I am moving to Japan. . . the Land of the Rising Sun, the Land of Tiny People (I'm 5'8":(), the Land of People Whose Language I Don't Speak.

The story in a nutshell: I was hired at my current job to go to Tokyo, and have been working in the New York bureau while my paperwork gets sorted out. Now, it's all almost done, and I'm flying away on April 26, never to return. . . for the foreseeable future anyway. Of course I will still continue my blog, so I hope you will accompany me on my new adventures.

So see? I wasn't just being a dramatick (to quote Caveboy) when I was going on about the decision to take this job changing my whole life. And that was why I took 18 hours of Japanese classes over two weekends (which I'm already forgetting :S).

So yes, I have a few crazy, hectic weeks of packing, getting rid of stuff and shipping what I haven't gotten rid of. But after that, I'll be off to London for a few days, then on to Chapter 7 of my life. Wish me luck and blessings!

One of these days. . .

Ok, so my work building is set up in a funny way. To get to the third floor, where I work, I have to take the elevator to the sixth floor, and then plonk down the escalators and stairs to the third floor. So my routine is to go to the kitchen on the sixth floor, get cereal and coffee, and walk down to my desk. And at least twice a week, I trip on the stairs. I haven't quite figured out what factors play into this. . .if it's the funky red lighting, or the narrow stairs (which don't accomodate my abnormally large feet too well), or the dizzyingly gigantic black-and-white flower and ferns painted on the landing wall, or just plain old clumsiness (which I possess plenty of).

So far, my reflexes--which I'm quite proud of actually--have done well, and I manage to catch myself just in time before I go flying. But I'm sure that ONE OF THESE DAYS, as I hobble down the stairs half-asleep--holding my boiling hot cup of coffee in one hand, my bowl of milk in the other, my purse with everything including the kitchen sink slung over my shoulder, and another bag with my gym clothes looped over my arm--my reflexes will fail. And I and my coffee and milk and overloaded bags will go tumbling down like Jack and Jill rolled into one.

And wouldn't you know it, that will be the day the tall, dark and handsome guy in video editing, whom I have the tiniest crush on, will just happen to get in at the same time as me. 'Coz the humiliation just wouldn't be complete if it happened any other way, would it?