Fate Fable

Its just one of those days. When it rains and the sun is bright and you can’t quite figure out which to celebrate.
A forced perfection of tangents.
I have heard that life overtakes you at some point, that the elements and the colossal cosmology of ‘fate’ finally comes into play and hurls you out of your choices. I now wonder if it is any different for those of us who do not believe in deities and eschatological doorstops. Does fate knock at their door? Does it interplay in their lives or is a ‘fall- out’, a ‘bad hair day’, ‘ a lost election’ and ‘a love at first sight’ just that - the mere convergence of events to echo the words that frame them?
I feel my belief slipping away, which is weird since I have never really been able to put my finger on 'what exactly' my belief was or is. It has always been a distant nit-picking tap in my brain : "Note-t0-self: Must figure out what we believe in". But it never seemed important enough to merit more than that. I believe or did...in something, larger than myself and that is enough to keep one in check. I am always 'in check'. Not in the 'choakemchild' sense - in the manner, moreover the matter- that I am too aware of all my actions and thoughts. Hence the tendency to lean alot towards the former and too little towards the latter.
Belief and the inherent, soul-wrenching dependence on 'Fate' to work it out...changes alot. Apparently so does lack, loss or limbo of it.

For the believer’s 'Fate' can be a bitch.

Fate promises magic every time it rains. But rains pass and rains conk-out the electricity and the internet.

Fate promises a happenstance romance, every time you work hard on your hair before going out. But the romance usually ends with a smile at yourself in the review mirror of your car, followed by a string of curses at the jeep trying to run you over.

Fate promises laughter every time you meet ‘your’ people. Who only expect the same of you.

Fate promises friends, every time you’re charming in polite company. It is just too damn hard to find 'polite' company these days.

Fate promises family, every time there’s a new moon and an occasion to celebrate. Family, is definitely over-rated.

Fate promises success every time you think you’ve done your best. Which could always have been done 'better'.

Fate promises an awful lot.
And the bout of being a believer is that you buy it.

Sticks and Stones

It should be called the calm after the storm.
Once the tirade passes, it leaves in its wake - among other things- a sense of overwhelming quiet. Unfortunately, not the friendly kind. The quiet is pensive and lonely. Which makes it all the more necessary.
The quiet is passive and angry. Something I have much experience with.
I can live with this quiet.
This quiet has always been mine.

"Mankinds greatest delusion comes about in his trust for others and his need to lean on them. He leans, he loses. He loves, he loses. He is lost unto all, including himself ."
_ Friedrich Nietszche

Boo hoo Black Sheep!

The subtle and not-so-subtle ironies of life are astounding. Again come those days of navigating family foes and friends. This time naturally, the foes win out. There is some inane solace in discovering that I am the unequivoval black sheep of two distinctly different families.
On the day, when families get together, mine contrive ways to get away...appropriate, in some manner of speaking. However, this wonderful Eid day is different. I find myself, seeking solace with my past. Solace and a form of terse settlement. I am hailed forth, called into convalescence by familial foes, as familial friends become thus.
My father's clan now welcome me, as the one I live in churns.
Such is life.


Bo hoo Black sheep
Have you been a fool?
Yes Sir, yes sir
Twice out-done in the same pool

Duplicity reporting, Sir!

Its been a long while, since I went over the magic of the Peanuts gang, having recently taken itch to being called 'Marcy' by some. It is a pleasure long withheld. I love these old strips and the times they represent. Of pseudo-babble and pop tarts and fortunately, little else. Inane and Intellectual, moreover a flavour of sillidom, much needed.
Times were simple then. Simple and silly and sublime.
For the record, I wish self and I could manage to pull me off in Peppermint Patty or Lucy. Being a tomboy with little need for love or a self involved shruck would be a better bargain over a well-intentioned bumbling bafoonista. But the world must have its bumbling Bafoonista's.
So Marcy it is.
Reporting for Duplicitous duty... Sir!

Single and Fabulous!

No more apologies.
It is severely disturbing how us 'oh-so-sad' singles are constantly put on the chopping block for not 'living' the life we could or should. The two strains of question perpetually designed to kill optimism. Why are we- in the immortal words of Carrie Bradshaw- 'shoulding' all over the place?
Why is it that there is no vindication or purpose to a life, unless it is coupled with a couple? And who is to say that the life we 'could' or 'should' have will be any better than the one we lead now. For us Ka-ka-ka-Katie girls, with a mountain of quirks and obtuse tangents, is there really ever a conventional solution to an unconventional enigma? Or are we doomed to 'walk' single and 'talk' double till Kingdom come - which it never doth do? Either way, the 'Single's Sorority' could seriously do without the reactionary whiplash from the 'others' or wanna-be them's.
Having seen the the single woman 'sex and the city' gospel for the umpteenth time, one thing stands out clear, there is no point in waiting for life to start after marriage. IF you are one of the poor unfortunate souls, determined to hold out for love, its about time you gave up on a time frame and just lived your life a' la carte.
If we are meant to find true love, it needs to be sans the bullshit bravado.
It needs to be real and it needs to be free of charge and change. Those of us who cant be tamed and need to run free, should bloody well get in the race and run it, for better or worse.

So for all the quirky 'Katie' girls chasing their Hubbles: STOP!
If they can't take you with your quirks and if you love 'you' with the quirks - time to cut off the thread. Snip, snip.
There is no shame in saying you come first. You do!
All you need to do is go to him and say "Your girl is lovely, Hubble". Turn your back and LEAVE.

You can send can me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the mail
Send me dead flowers to my wedding

And I wont forget to put roses on your grave...