I need a different now Where we can wear each other for awhile I'll lend you my tears if I can borrow your smile We'll get through tomorrow somehow

I have been thinking about a lot of things lately. Maybe it is this time of year that brings with it a reflection of the events of the past months and of life in general. When I think it's almost like being at one with your body and looking outwards to something at the same time. I know it probably doesn't make sense to many. But this is what happens to me. It's funny b/c when i see other people doing this, I know exactly what it is. My mom does the same thing. Last week at work, I was at the sink and this lady said to me, you look like you are somewhere far away. She was right. In that moment, it's hard to explain to someone where you actually are because I wonder if they understand and I wonder if they would really want to know?

The truth is, I have been thinking a lot about my Grandparents lately, reflecting on my memories of them, and missing them. They came to Canada twice and lived with us for a short period of time. Once when I was in grade three and once when i was in grade 12. Little did I know about the circumstances under which I would see them again. It was in 1997 at my Grandma's funeral in Fiji, where I would see my Grandpa again. He didn't even recognize who I was because he was very ill. I probably looked very different to him. He looked very different to me. He was so small and frail, so unlike the way I remembered him. He had been very sick and had been given wrong medication for his illness. He was being taken to the hospital in the ambulance and my Grandma accompanied him. She was the one who died unexpectedly by the time they got to the hospital. Ironic-- she would talk about how she would want to die before my Grandpa because she felt like it would be too hard to live without him. It was a shock to all of us when she went. When they finally told my Grandpa in the hospital that she was gone, he said that he already knew. They have such an interesting love story of how they met and lived and one day I will definitely write about it.

I remember this one night that I asked God that if he wanted to take my Grandpa too that it would be okay if he wanted to go. I think that was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in life. I was trying to be selfless and I thought it shouldn't really matter what is more bearable to me, because I still had life to live and my Grandpa deserved the quality of life that he had lived for, so maybe if I acknowledged that, then something good would come to him. I just didn't want him to suffer. I loved him so much. He was my mom's idol. Yes, she idolized him and in her eyes he could do no wrong, even though he had his faults just like anyone else did. He was a very loving man, I saw it in the way he treated others, very soft and kind.

He got better and stronger throughout the funeral and everything else that was going on during that time. I did get a chance to get to know him again and bond with him. I have this memory of standing in front of my Grandpa who was sitting down and telling him that I was going to put socks on his feet because it was cold. And then I did. I know it may sound strange, but this memory is so vivid for me because I felt like it was one thing I could do to take care of him. I hope he knew how loved he was at that time. Because I sure did.

It was during this moment in time that I truly learned what loving and being loved was all about. I had always been afraid of it, running from it in one way or another, or not really understanding my responsibility in it. The day I said goodbye to my Grandpa to come home, was the day that I realized the depth of my capacity to love. After I came home from that trip, my life changed forever. I just began doing things better, more accurately, putting more of myself into the things I did. It is hard to explain in words. But it was a kind of taking stock in life and letting go of the unhealthy and starting the path towards the things I really wanted. It was the beginning of a transition. Three years later, my Grandpa died, and it was right before I would be starting yet another significant moment in life that I had worked so hard to attain in the previous three years. The cycle of death and birth/rebirth is amazing. It's a testimony to how we are all connected.

I wish that I had more time with my Grandparents. I hope they know how much I love them and how even though I didn't have them in my life as much as I would have liked, they were important to me and did something greater for me than they (or I) could understand. And I think knowing that makes missing them more bearable.

The rhymes you hear are the rhymes of Darryl's But each and every year we bust Christmas carrols

The Lost Star Trek Christmas Episode: "A Most Illogical Holiday" (1968)

Mr. Spock, with his pointy ears, is hailed as a messiah on a wintry world where elves toil for a mysterious master, revealed to be Santa just prior to the first commercial break. Santa, enraged, kills Ensign Jones and attacks the Enterprise in his sleigh. As Scotty works to keep the power flowing to the shields, Kirk and Bones infiltrate Santa's headquarters.

With the help of the comely and lonely Mrs. Claus, Kirk is led to the heart of the workshop, where he learns the truth: Santa is himself a pawn to a master computer, whose initial program is based on an ancient book of children's Christmas tales. Kirk engages the master computer in a battle of wits, demanding the computer explain how it is physically possible for Santa to deliver gifts to all the children in the universe in a single night. The master computer, confronted with this computational anomaly, self-destructs; Santa, freed from mental enslavement, releases the elves and begins a new, democratic society. Back on the ship, Bones and Spock bicker about the meaning of Christmas, an argument which ends when Scotty appears on the bridge with egg nog made with Romulan Ale.

Filmed during the series' run, this episode was never shown on network television and was offered in syndication only once, in 1975. Star Trek fans hint the episode was later personally destroyed by Gene Roddenberry. Rumor suggests Harlan Ellison may have written the original script; asked about the episode at 1978's IgunaCon II science fiction convention, however, Ellison described the episode as "a quiescently glistening cherem of pus."

Couldn't have said it better myself. Sorry Trekkies.

I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas filled with good food, friends, family and laughter. Peace.

And the joke is When he awoke his Body was covered in coke fizz

I was going through some of my old writing and came across an account of a trip to Victoria that my cousin 'Shaft' and I went on last year. I never finished the story (I hope to someday!) and no one has read what I have so far.... here is a little excerpt:

Pre-lood

This time I wasn’t given much time to decide whether or not the destination of Victoria would be in my future. As you remember (and I know you do), my cousin Shaft and I took our mom’s on our very first overnight weekender to Victoria. Little did we know that we’d be visiting again a over a year later. Life is funny, isn’t it?


Girlz ‘n da Hood

It was Wednesday, October 27, 2004 and I was busy studying for my Accounting midterm that I had to write that evening. I was wearing my white hoodie w/ the hood over my head. Underneath my hood was a mass of unwashed bad hair that wasn’t sure if it was curly, straight or wavy. Pause. I know what most of you are thinking :’Fatima never has bad hair and she doesn't even know what bad hair feels like’--- but I do! I do! Continue. I looked like some crazy woman. I think I truly believed that wearing my hood was preventing any vital information from evaporating from the top of my head. After all, that’s how heat escapes. And isn’t heat linked to brainwaves? And aren’t waves just another term for information? Pretty self explanatory I think.

Exams just do something to you. Maybe it’s the pressure of what a test signifies. You either do well or you don’t. You either meet your expectations or you don’t. You either fail or pass. I’d never describe myself as competitive with other people, however, I’ve got a case of fierce competitiveness against myself. I needed all the help I could get.


That's all you guys are getting. Good night!

I can't do the long division Will someone do the math?

I just wanted to see what lunch time blogging is all about. It's FUN. I have a meeting in 15 minutes. Better go back to the officina now....

I want to travel through time See your surprise Hold you so tight I'm counting down the days tonight....

Let's commemorate. A few minutes before midnight I finished my last final exam for this semester. Joy!

Today was my Uncle's 42nd birthday. We went out for a family dinner. I was glad Brian and Nick were there. Brian just got his driver's license. Oh to be 16 again.... no thanks. We all shared this fried banana dessert with ice cream. Nick noted that the ice cream scoop had 'silver balls' on it. He got a talking to from his dad about that. Hey cousin, those are called sprinkles! Use the correct terminology. He proceeded to say that the bananas looked like 'caca'. Excuse my cousin, he is a seeker of attention and a self proclaimed entertainer. Plus, he is 11 years old. But so loveable. I could just sit there and watch his antics all day long. He is self-amused. And when I say self-amused I mean he talks to himself and makes faces and is constantly using his imagination to do something or other. But the thing is, that he has this deepness that he shows once in a while and a unique insight for an 11 year old. Children are so fascinating.

Nick did not want to hug or kiss me when I left. He gets embarassed with that sort of stuff. In that moment, he shifts into escape mode. I was amused.

The owner of the restaurant knew my dad and when my mom and I walked in he asked my mom how she was related to my dad. Ha ha. I knew where this was going. She said I am his wife. Lightbulb flash. Later the owner told my dad that my mom looked like she was 26. That basically made my mom's night. We have the young looking genes in our family. My dad is a lucky man.

Now that school is over for a few weeks, I can spend my time doing the things I love-- lots of yoga and getting to see all the people who I don't get to see as often as I'd like. Christmas stuff of course, and I plan to finish the book I've been reading. It will be nice to come home from a day of work and know that I don't have another 4 hours of work to do. Right now I am really tired, but I feel so good and happy. It's the kind of tired you bask in because you know you've put in a good day and you've earned it. Well, I think i've put in a good 3 months. I am excited about the surprises that await me in the next 3.

You might see a different man But baby here I am

Found another humorous article on this ever entertaining website. Click to the left to navigate to "The Politics of Pie". I especially enjoy the links the article makes between pie eating characteristics and men. I've excerpted below:

'Pie is a window to a man's soul, a lens by which you can see his true nature and know the measure of his worth. You won't be able to take it all in, not in one slice of pie, not in a thousand. Pie is so revealing -- especially rhubarb pie. But to start with, you can choose several traits and look to confirm their presence.'

'What pie reveals is how well a man can identify his hunger. How large and looming is that hunger? Can he name it? How does he meet it? How does he greet it? In the feast of life, will he save room for the pie?

These are very good things to know about men.'

Indeed.

Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well...

Over the weekend, I attended my first Christmas party of the season, specifically a 'Santa Soiree' as my friend termed it. It was a great party. Ask me if you want details.

I am sitting there, flipping through my friend's (and Christmas party host) new photo album of various volleyball trips he's taken over the past several months and strikingly I spot this guy who I went to school. He was my buddy from senior high. 10 years since I'd seen him I think. Sitting there and looking at the pictures, I found out that he plays volleyball with my friend and that he was going to be at the party. Small world isn't it?

When we saw each other it was like high school for me. Except I like to think I look a lot different and that no one would recognize me now. I know it's silly, but I always think that people I went to school with won't recognize me. Maybe it's because I have an extra good memory of all the people I went to school with and I assume that their memories aren't as vivid. What can I say, I'm vivid, sometimes too much so. Popular or unpopular, I remember significant things about each person. As Laura is apt to say, 'Fatima knows the first and last names of everyone we went to school with.' Well, I like names, that's why. Names should be remembered and used as often as possible.

I've included a pic of the 'reunion' of me and my high school bud, Tony. I find Dean in the background eating the cake I brought quite humorous.... so I didn't crop him out. It was Hedgehog cake from Sweet Obsessions. I didn't even get to taste it, but everyone else seemed to enjoy it a lot. I felt that cake in the early morning hours wouldn't be a good idea. I've been having a craving for it ever since.... sigh.

Looking at that picture I'm thinking hey so that's what I look like at 2am.....

Tony and I @ Santa Soiree Dec.03.2005

Drench yourself in words unspoken; Live your life with arms wide open; Today is where your book begins; The rest is still unwritten

Have you ever come across something that you felt explained your feelings? I always look forward to the 'thought of the week' that we have at work. This week's was very significant for me because it talked about something that is on my mind a lot: Questions and the purpose in them. This poem touched me so much because it relflects the struggle in not knowing the answers, yet the beauty and greater purpose that lies within. Not that I have to explain this to many, but I have always been a person who likes to know the answers, and in some parts of life that can be productive. However, a lesson that I have learned is that sometimes understanding the questions are more important and productive than focussing on the answer. Answers come in many different forms, I think at times under the guise of questions.

I leave you with the poem:

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart.
And try to love the questions themselves.
Do not seek the answers that cannot be given you
because you would not be able to live them.
And the point is to live everything.
Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it,
live along some distant day into the answer."

-Rainer Maria Rilke, taken from "Letters to a Young Poet," 1929