carded

i love buying and giving cards.  i could stand in the card aisle for a half hour, picking out the perfect card that says exactly what i want to say.  at work, i'm the unofficial card picker-upper for birthdays and other events.  i enjoy mailing cards to friends across the country or even closeby, not only for holidays but sometimes just because.

i also like receiving cards.  i have boxes of old cards stored throughout the house because i can't throw them away.  i wouldn't be surprised if i managed to keep every card given to me, ever.  there's just something about being on the receiving end of a quick note or a heartfelt one that brings a smile to my face.  i guess this is the reason why i like spreading the cheer to others too.

recently, i met my card-giver match.  my coworker will give me a card for pretty much anything.  to thank me for doing my job.  to thank me for something she would have done for me.  to thank me for every day things i don't expect to be thanked for.  i almost feel spoiled for the cards.. but every one of them is a sweet gesture, a kind reminder of being thought of and appreciated and noted.

the power of me

have you ever wondered what would have happened if, at a crossroads, you had chosen differently?  i have, and i think it's natural to do this.  i am talking about this in the purest form possible; i don't mean it in a regretful sort of way, like wishing for a different path and outcome or something else entirely... i am talking about hypothesizing a 'what if' scenario just to have something to ponder.  the feelings about the possible change in destiny are unattached during these ruminations; it is more like having a passing thought jumping around in my brain.  just an, i wonder...

as i've grown older and busier and had to make decisions about nearly every aspect of my life, these thoughts do not come up as often.  there simply isn't time to entertain such things like i did as a teen, since i now know the difference between reality and fantasy.  but my subconscious, it seems, isn't hesitant to indulge in matters of reflection.

last night i dreamt about a person in my past, very jennifer weiner-like in one of my favorite short stories of hers in the guy not taken.  the scene was real and the plot was belieavable, nearly expected.  i saw myself and my life unraveling, only to be awoken by daylight and the keen sense that i had just survived a nightmare.  it was a glimpse into the life i could have had.. that is, if i'd been a doormat and had remained unchanged since 8 long years ago.  but the key point is, i'm not the same, and also something else: my steps are variable because i play a vital role in my plan.  so the dream was just that -- a dream, completely fabricated in my mind, formulated by past experience, unaware of the power of me.

bound

i've been on a reading binge.  i recently picked up an inordinate number of books from the borders liquidation, book sale at work, and by finally using up a birthday gift card to barnes & noble.  the stacks upon stacks of books have been piled in our bedroom, tempting me.

so after finishing fly away home by jennifer weiner, i decided to read the best of me by nicholas sparks.  i pretty much knew where the story was headed early on, but i guess i clung to hope that there would be an option for another conclusion, different from the one i was dreading.  but there was no choice, was there?  in true nicholas sparks fashion, and without giving too much away, he managed to break my heart... again.

which put me in the mood for a pick-me-up, much like when you're done watching a serious or scary movie and crave for a light-hearted one to follow so that you'll be able to sleep that night.  and so, i started sundays at tiffany's by james patterson and gabrielle charbonnet, clinging to the easy, happy-go-lucky prose.  before i knew it, i had breezed through 201 pages in one sitting.  i would have finished it, but my eyes had grown heavy, so the rest would have to wait until this morning.  the book had done its job; my heart was put back together again (even after shedding a tear) and i was floating again.

and now i have lisa genova's still alice in front of me.  i know what i'm in for, but i'm pretty sure this one will be unforgettable.  a story of a woman's life-changing diagnosis of early-onset alzheimer's... how could it not be?  i just realized how ironic unforgettable now sounds.

these books pull me into different worlds, different times, different emotions; i bond with the characters, feeling for them, rooting for them.. and sometimes, the best ones, stay with me long after i've shut the covers which normally bind and lock them between the pages.

duty calls

there are a number of things that i do in my position that don't quite fall under my job description.  i guess you could say this about pretty much any job, but i won't speculate whether that is true or not.

occasionally, i come across interesting situations that throw me outside of my comfort zone, that place me in uncomfortable or unexpected positions, that force me to come up with quick, on-the-spot solutions.  as someone who likes to think through decisions, weigh all my options, prepare, prepare, prepare, you can see why these.. "incidents" make me weary.

without going into details, i'll just say that today fell under the "interesting" category.. and was probably the most interesting of them all.

starstruck

in june of 2008, my sister and i took a week-long trip to paris, just the 2 of us.  she lugged 3 books across the atlantic in her carry-on, none of which i'd heard before and all by emily giffin: something borrowed, something blue, and love the one you're with.  she told me i HAD to start reading the pink book (something borrowed), but i was in the middle of something else, so said i would start it as soon as i was done.

i don't think i started sobo until one of our first nights in paris after a long day of sight-seeing, and by the end of the first chapter, i was hooked.  i would read once we were back at the hotel each night on vacation (alongside my sister who was equally addicted, reading soblue and then moving on to love the one you're with).  one night i actually stayed up until dawn to finish while she had fallen asleep with the green book at her side.  yes, it was that hard to put down.  and the second i finished sobo, i jumped into soblue.  i devoured it on our plane ride home.

right after our trip, i read love the one you're with, and have picked up all of giffin's novels to date, with baby proof as my favorite.  i think what i like about her books is that they are relationship-driven, which is my writing style, and she creates characters that are relatable and believable.  you could picture them walking down the street.  you could picture yourself being friends with them.  and the premise and themes of her books ask universal questions: is there a dealbreaker when it comes to love?  what happens when the one who got away comes back into your life?

fast forward to last week.  during my commute home, i noticed one of the digital billboards bearing emily giffin's name.  she's going to be here on november 3rd?  in my town?!  since i follow her on facebook, i knew she was currently in poland, so i googled it that night just to be sure.  apparently she would be the keynote speaker at a women's event in my area, talking about how she had made her writing dreams into reality.  i decided that i had to go and meet her and especially because i needed to hear what she had to say.

i was ridiculously excited all day, knowing i'd have the chance to meet emily tonight.  her speech was incredibly inspiring, and despite the hundreds of women there, it felt like an intimate conversation with a close girlfriend, the way she joked around and diverted to little stories from her personal life.  like the time her best friend, who was married with 3 kids, was in some kind of a funk, she wondered outloud what would have happened if she'd married her ex and moved to france to be with him.  later, when emily and her husband were in france, she convinced him to drive 2.5 hours west of paris to a tiny town with a "population of 42," finally confessing to him once they were there that she wanted to track down her best friend's "one who got away."  after emily's expert stalking (according to her, which even involved microfiche), they were able to find the ex's house.  she directed her husband to "point and shoot!" when she planned to knock on the door and ask for directions, feigning that they were lost.  both her bff's ex and his wife/lover had come to the door looking disheveled and emily's husband had done his job capturing it.  she called her best friend as soon as she was within cell phone range to tell her what she'd done, and had the pictures to prove it.  her best friend had started crying then, saying no one had ever done anything that nice for her before.

(it reminded me of my bff and the stories we tell each other, our musings, our discussions.  and i thought, i'd totally do something like that for her if i had the chance).

after her presentation, i went to the bathroom where emily happened to be, getting ready to go talk to the media.  i was so starstruck that it took me a few seconds to realize it was really her standing right next to me.  i didn't know what to say.  before i could decide what to do, she said hello and at least i had the good sense to manage a reply.

as we approached the book signing table, i became more and more nervous.  what the heck do i say to her?  would she take a picture with me?  i have never met an author before, especially one of my favorites.  my thoughts were racing and thankfully i had a friend there to calm me down.  for a writer (emily's definition of a 'writer' is anyone who writes or enjoys writing), meeting an author is equivalent to meeting your favorite actor/actress.  or your favorite musician.  or as my husband says, a favorite athlete or sports hero.

and then it was my turn and i was standing right in front of her.  i told her i loved all her books, baby proof being my favorite.  then i asked if something borrowed would be made into a movie, which she then asked if i meant something blue.  oops, of course that's what i meant!  i was just too excited, literally shaking, completely gushing.  and in the few minutes i had with her she seemed so... humble, and now i love her even more.  she even posed for a picture with me!

i was so elated afterwards that i hardly remembered the drive home, and once i was in the house i couldn't stop smiling, feeling charged.

so thanks emily, for sharing your stories with us and being a true inspiration.  and special thanks to my sister who introduced me to her writing in the first place!

happy four

"A Verse For My Beloved"

On the second of November

A man who was my friend

Gave me a ring and promised

He'd love me 'til the end

On the second of November

We met at the river's edge

In front of friends and family

It was there we made our pledge

On the second of November

You took my hand to say:

"You're the only one I'll ever want --

And this will be our day."

On the second of November

I wore my something blue

We danced amidst a happy crowd

And I only had eyes for you

On this second of November

Four years have come and gone

But of one thing I'm still certain --
I'm right where I belong.

written 10/21/11 - 8:32 p.m.; edited 11/4/11.

happy anniversary to my dear husband, my one and only.

intuition

i noticed several flocks of geese littering the sky in the familiar V-formation this evening.  my first thought was, is it that time already?  and my second was to remember my childhood fascination with the wonders of bird migration.  i would think, how do they just.. know when it's time to go?  or where they're going?  or to even go at all?  my teacher told me it was all instinctual from the changes in the season, and the whole idea seemed mystical to me.

when i think about it, it is pretty incredible that we witness these natural patterns taking place around us like clockwork.  the leaves will change to brilliant colors, the crispness in the air will return, and some birds will fly to warmer climates.  seasons come and go, but innately they stay the same; the timing, the structure, the organization, the subtle mysteries of the earth that will always remain subtle mysteries.

sometimes i wonder if you could say this about people too.  our circumstances and surroundings could change, but are we essentially the same as we were when we were little, enchanted by notions that birds knew where to go when it turned cold?  if we stripped away all the layers, would we recognize ourselves at the core?

nature, at least, has taught me 2 things: trust my instincts and stay true to oneself.