Things Stressed Women Say at Work...

Okay, okay! I take it back. Unfuck you.

You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing.

Well, this day was a total waste of make up.

Well, aren't we a damn ray of sunshine?

Do I look like a people person?

This isn't an office. It's hell with fluorescent lighting.

I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left.

Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.

Why don't you try practicing random acts of intelligence and senseless acts of self-control?

Sarcasm is just one more service I offer.

Do they ever shut up on your planet?

Back off!! You're standing in my aura.

Don't worry, I forgot your name too.

I work 45 hours a week to be this poor.

Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.

Wait...I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.

Chaos, panic and disorder...my work here is done.

Ambivalent? Well, yes and no.

You look like shit. Is that the style now?

Earth is full. Go home.

Aw, did I step on your poor little itty bitty ego?

You are depriving some village of an idiot.

If assholes could fly, this place would be an airport.

Look in my eyes...do you see one ounce of gives-a-shit?

Here I am, frustrated because nobody around here is worth choking to death.

Hmm...only if I was so quick to whip one of these up when an occasion presents itself...I'd be less stressed (Honestly, I am not that stressed, just found this amusing) and more feared.

But, recylcing (as we all know) is good for environment...so grab one of these and use them as need be. Our contribution to conservation!

The problem with life is there’s no background music.

Ahh…only if!

Imagine the melancholy mood of first heart break enhanced by a deeply sad violin in background. The pain deeper and tears saltier with every note.

Imagine the bursting guitar tone as you win something and throw a fist-pump in triumph. The swing music bursts into life as you succeed.

Imagine the piano and its soft keys as you feel loneliness creep into you.

Imagine a gentle flute piece as you watch a sun rise, accord with sunset.

Imagine a calm santoor as you watch rain drops.

Imagine dramatic drum roll when you are nervous, a melodramatic symphony when you are angry.

Imagine sitar as you are pumped up to do something.

Background music would make mundane moments so much brighter and amplify stand out moments to another level. It would make conversation more interesting, pain more bearable, joy more savory.

Drama would have another layer.

Heartaches, illness, Eureka moments, first steps of kids, graduation, success, death, life, prayers, silence – all emotions, all spheres such strong contenders for background music.

You know what would be the killer? If we could control the background music. If we could will it to turn on or shut off. What drama!

The problem is that humans are not as smart as they think are. So, too much control and too much drama might just be a recipe for disaster.

The question is - would there be silence? And silence, as we know, is golden! It is what balances sounds. Not only will perpetual background music take away a lot from our 'normal' music, it would alter our senses because what would life be without silence? Without that soothing and haunting moment of 'no sound'...

Sound has a meaning because silence exists. As much as it would be fun to hear some whistle in background as I drive leisurely, I don't think I'd trade it for silence.

Okay then, let's just use iPods...

 

What sounds and tastes like childhood?

I am a big fan of food network. Fan as in, bigggg fan! That channel is like food porn I can watch over and over and over. A recent conversation on the channel included people talking about – food that takes them back to their childhood. What sounds and tastes (food) that reminds our neurons of childhood.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a particular food that floods my memories with childhood. Cake batter, ice-cones, cotton candy – nothing rings a bell. When I think hard I have some things I associate with ‘growing up’, the food that was part of growing up.

Like an amazing pickle my mother puts together in winters.
Like watermelon.
Like Mango-shake (smoothie).

But, that’s about it.

I grew up in urban neighborhoods. There were no orchards to smell and no running streams to listen to. Life was busy as kites had to be flown, rules for made-up games had to be created and things like ‘how to be popular in school’ had to be planned.

If I really had to pick some sounds and tastes
- What tastes like childhood – orange flavored bars of ice-crème. The brain-freeze, the sharing, the ‘almost-enough’ money to buy these every week and the orange color left on lips – that is all it took for a satisfied sigh.
- What sounds like childhood – growing up in catholic school, the hymns and Christmas carols take me to childhood. There’s something serene about people singing in unison.

It is no wonder that we always look back to childhood for pleasant memories (most of us, the lucky ones). Simple is good and simple can be remembered. There are no flavors, no attachments to adult-hood. How sad is that?

When we need the least, we are the happiest. When we care the least, we are the most satisfied. We look back to who we were, and how it was. It was simple and we were who we are without pretense and the need to be something and someone. That is perhaps, what childhood is – it tastes like carefree and sounds like happy.