You have got mail...NOT!!

I am a queen of procrastination. I procrastinate tasks till there is no room for procrastination. And there is nothing I procrastinate more than mailing stuff. I absolutely hate mailing stuff. My level of paranoia doesn't allow me to drop things off in a post box. I need to go to the post office and stand in line and give the letter to the person at the desk. I am not satisfied unless I have had the USPS people stamp the parcel and give me a receipt. To make matters worse, the only time I did drop a letter in the mail box directly, someone stole the enclosed cheque and cashed it leaving me to deal with a fraud claim. Guess what resulted from that...three more letters that I had to mail. It took me three months to get the whole thing settled just because I could not make a trip to the post office. Yes yes I know I am lazy, I am an indolent fool when it comes to mailing things. Every tax season, I finish my returns by early March. Still, every year on April 15th, I find myself running into a post office as they are just about to close the doors, writing the address on the envelopes while standing in line.
Recently I found out that the USPS is holding me in contempt for keeping it so low on my priority list. There is a very very patient man living somewhere in Illinois who is expecting a package from me since early December. Every week we talk and every week he inquires about the package. Every week my answer is the same, I will mail it tomorrow for sure. That tomorrow didn't come until mid February. I was so excited as I walked out of the post office and instantly I informed the man via email about this great accomplishment. A week later I opened my mail box and sitting in there looking somewhat triumphant was the very same package. I screamed at it and asked what it was doing there. Fortunately, the package didn't reply but the note on it said address error. I cursed myself and kicked myself all the way back to my room. Sighhh...there was no error, the address is fine. I checked. It is just USPS getting back at me. First the stolen cheque and now this. I am calling the Washington Post Master General or whatever the heck he is called.
The funny thing is that this disease is quite old and chronic. I remember writing letters to my brother and my best friend Saira and forgetting to mail them. When they came home for a visit I would give them the letters so they knew that I had been thinking about them.
Now I have to mail the package again i.e. if the Illinois gentleman is still interested :). You can expect it sometime this year.
I am telling you with so much to remember, bills to pay, people to call, documents to fax, deadlines to meet who has the time to mail anyone anything. By the way I procrastinate most of the things I just mentioned. I guess I just love the drama of the last minute. The panicking the running around, the tension, the rush. Like I said it is a disease. There is no way out of it :(
I am thinking carrier pigeons...

Warning: I am venting here

"Some resentment did arise at a perseverance so selfish and ungenerous" - Jane Austen from "Mansfield Park"

I told my roommate about my plans of moving out. We have lived together not more than 3 months and we get along just fine, no arguments or misunderstanding. She is an awesome lady and I love her cat and I am quite comfortable with the living condition. So why am I moving? Well lets just say after several bad experiences in my life I have decided to always listen to my instincts and my instincts tell me to leave.

The reasons are there and they are not all perfect and strong. Firstly, we had a certain agreement at the time I moved in and she turned back on her word and kind of created a bad taste in my mouth. Secondly, my commute has increased to 30 miles a day, a situation not at all agreeable to me. Lastly, I don't want to live in a place where I may feel I need to justify my actions or words to a person not at all rightful of these justifications. She had made it very clear that she is looking out for herself and so I decided to do the same. and told her that I'm moving.

Since that day she has made it her duty to argue against all my reasons for moving out. I tell her each time my mind has not changed and each time she argues against it and tells me to re-think my decision. All her arguments are valid. All her arguments are directed to make me feel guilty enough to change my mind. All her arguments look out for her well-being and not my comfort. She is looking out for herself and making me feel bad for doing the same. She is not doing it consciously perhaps. But it is serving the purpose, I feel guilty as hell!!

And I would have believed that she is forcing me to reconsider by mere kindness of heart or loving feelings that she may have towards me, if she wouldn't keep mentioning that it is such a financial burden and inconvenience to find a replacement and that she might have to rent out her condo and that she will have to move in with her parents. She is picky about who she lets in the house. The conversation is never ending.

Last night she followed me to the bathroom door and had this conversation for the fourth time while I was holding more than just my patience. I equal this to torture.

I admire her perseverance, but her tactics are all so unfair. I feel so responsible for her potential homelessness that I am almost ready to disregard my instincts. But I must not.

Please Miss SN, my dear land lady. Back off!!! You should never have asked me to move in under false pretences. Next time be honest and upfront. And now stop asking me to reconsider and let me move out in peace. Stop giving me guilt trips that would put my mother's innocent attempts at forcing guilt induced matrimony on me, to shame.

Who I am is who I want to be

When I was a little girl I knew very clearly what I want and what is important. I was a very shy kid. Never saying much and not asking for anything. Ami til this day says that I was the sweetest little kid but I knew what I wanted and my thoughts were pretty clear on that.
For example when I saw an aunty or an uncle with a kid on her or his lap, whether their own or someone else's, I would very confidently go over, push the child aside and put my seat on the very lap. I don't remember doing this but everyone older than me remembers it.
If anyone asked me if I like my mom better or dad (a very common questions among people in my country, I have no idea if they ask the same question anywhere else, but in Pakistan they always do, yes even now!!). Unlike other children I blatantly would answer, "Papa". Yes my mother was amused the first few times, the next 30 yrs not so much :)
Every time anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up, I almost always replied, "Dulhan" - translation=Bride. Yes, I know. My childhood dream is still a dream lol.
As a child, your instincts are sharp enough to make you like or dislike someone. And the only reason I behaved or went to some of the people's houses was because my mom had long ago mastered the "if looks could kill, you wud be dead" look. Otherwise I had already made up my mind about which of my aunts were good and which ones bad. Time showed that my judgement was pretty good. Aapi knows what I am talking about.
Growing up means accepting the grays in life, the unknowns, the what nexts. Our experiences cloud our judgements, realism mars our dreams. We tend to rely more on what we see rather than what our instincts tell us. We are so consumed by being liked and accepted that we forget who we really are. We compromise, we conform, we sacrifice, we break apart and then we are just fixer uppers. To each its own. We loose our faith in some things, while our confidence wavers so many times.
Sometimes I miss being that little girl. So quiet and mysterious yet whenever she opened her mouth, it was with so much faith and confidence.
I lost her along the way, somewhere, a while back. But , I often think about that girl. She makes me trust my instincts again. She makes me believe in my dreams. She makes me believe in my my love and who I love. She makes me believe in goodness and compassion and reminds me what it was like to have faith in all that is good and pure.
Our roots, our true form, our true essence is the person who we were before the world took us over. We have to connect with that person to remind ourselves who we really are and not who we want to be and who we should be. After all we cant truly be happy unless we know our very own self.