I started writing this post a couple of days of ago. Since then, current events, one-month farewell parties and work have left me far behind. I don’t have a lot of time to spend on this post so I’m going to make it short and limit myself to inserting pictures where appropriate...like here-

In the days following Imcha's Fashion show, I have been filled with happiness and pride for my best friend.

If you had told me when I was eighteen that one day this quiet reserved guy would be my best friend I would have laughed in your face. Well, not really; I would have nodded and smiled politely and not really think much of it. But now, it’s hard to not think of him as part of my family and there was nothing but delight to hear about his very well deserved career success.

My friend and I would often spend hours at his place which was down the street from where I lived. We discussed every aspect of our lives and if there was one person who knew me better than I knew myself, it had to be him. (As a side benefit, I often got to meet many interesting people through him.)
We knew that it probably wouldn't be long before life steered us in different directions. God bless him, I hope he's still creating as fast as his nifty mind will let him.

Today’s track hails from American folk rock band, Augustana and I can say in all honesty that I genuinely like listening to this song. Enjoy the music.

One might guess from my previous post that I am grumpy about this; one would be correct.

My entry for today was going to center upon the process by which I have managed to live twenty-five years without accomplishing anything. However, I thought that would be too predictable.

Instead, I will list some things I have achieved.

(Please note that this is not to boast. I detest a braggart. You need not read another word if you dont want to. I do this for myself.)

My Successes (in no particular order)

Although my expenses are astronomical, I have managed to buy myself all the things I dreamt of for years. Further, I made more money this year than last year, and will make more still next year. (This is a modest amount by most standards, but I made it on my own.)

When I have a problem, I may obsess over it unduly, but eventually, I do my best to solve it.

Since I began this blog earlier this year, I have written over a hundred posts with single-spaced text. This year, I have also successfully created and maintained another blog and I am thinking about starting a third.

I am particularly honest and usually not afraid to say what I think.

Although I appreciate comfort, I have learned not to fear change or taking on new challenges.

Despite devastating experiences in my youth, I have managed to grow up relatively sane.

I have many wonderful friends who, for some reason, love me.

I have learned to ask for what I want.

For over a year, I have maintained my part of a more-or-less healthy single life.

I am more myself now than I have ever have been before. I behave the way the rest of the world secretly behaves in the privacy of their homes. I talk loudly, giggle loudly and let my personality quirks run wild.
What it comes down to is this. When all you have is crowds, you can either get lost in them or stand out in them, marching to the beat of your own drum.

This morning, I woke up at an unholy hour, convinced that I was adored. It was that some of my regular readers visited this journal on Tuesday, had seen fit to leave a comment as desired (scroll down if you don’t know what I’m talking about). And now I love the whole universe, and I suppose that’s enough love for anybody, reciprocated or not and that’s how I got through the boring day.

Truth is as much about what is not said as what is. You could read all of this and think that you know me, but you do not know me. On the other hand, today I witnessed a lie that was the most honest thing I have ever stumbled onto. A track called ‘Leaving Town Alive’. Sung by Bethany Joy (you might recognize her from the serial ‘One Tree Hill’). I had the feeling that it was created from nothing—from everything—just for me, that everyone else vanished when the music started and the artist began to sing the truth.

We are lucky to live in a day and age when we can participate in this kind of social dialog about sexual abuse. It can only make us feel better about who we are as people, and as a result, I imagine would make us a better community. It's scary to talk about sexual abuse, given the culture of abuse we live in and the increased awareness of it. It’s so easy to be frightened by things I feel and wonder if they're normal or just another manifestation of my psychosis. And it really feels good to hear another person say those things, and out loud for us all to hear! Not that it makes it okay, it’s just that there are more people out there who have felt similar things they couldn't explain. People are capable of bad things and I, like most humans, feel a sense of anger and sadness when I read about "bad things" being committed against fellow humans especially to people I know. If someone close to me was touched inappropriately, well, I don't think murder would be that too far from my mind.

Abuse can be defined as "improper or excessive use or treatment". Something that is emotionally exhausting and anxiety ridden and very controlling at worst, especially if the person or victim has faced it very often. Of all crimes known to mankind, sexual abuse must be considered the worst for it leaves an innocent plus a victim to fend for themselves after being violated. It’s the height of arrogance by anyone. It’s a violation of the spirit that suggests that there is no credibility at all for which one human can honor another.

I know everyone was expecting a light-hearted post, but this is something that has been weighing on my mind and I figured the best thing to do was to write about it.

Oh Switchfoot. You make life worth living.

Yes, after something real serious, we’ve finally gotten back on track around here, but before we get to the music, a word of warning. It’s the week of audits, which means working overtime, worrying overtime and eating fast-food. So there’s a good chance that sometime during tonight, I’ll be lost to whatever you call it when you mix a heart attack and a coma.

That said; let’s get on with the music! For those of you who don’t know this, admittedly, I’m a huge fan of Switchfoot. It’s nice to have these boys back on EC with my second favorite song – ‘Meant to live’ off ‘The Beautiful Letdown’ album.

‘We want more than this world's got to offer
We want more than the wars of our fathers
And everything inside screams for second life’

And that’s the week. As always, any questions about something, you know where to leave it.

8 more days to Nagaland....

I go through phases of dating and phases where I just can't be bothered with it. But when you’ve been through as many experiences as I’ve been through you tend to come up with more clear-cut realizations about what you want in a relationship. Not stuff like hair color or salary (although I must add that there is always the minimum package size requirement) it's more about their attitudes and how that might reflect on me.

And that's how I came up with today's new rule:

I need to be adored!

I've got a reasonably healthy self esteem. When I look in the mirror, I am fine with my reflection. I am not a beauty, nor will I win pageants, but I am a good looking woman. But I am not content with my partner thinking that I am simply reasonably attractive. Nope. My significant other has to think that I am the most gorgeous thing he's seen. Luckily for me, I've dated men who genuinely loved my appearance.

Yes, it's self esteem, not my-man-makes-me-feel-better esteem. It isn't about needing someone else’s validation entirely, just that in my case, doubt sets in if I am not sure that the man is physically completely into me.

I also don't seem to mind if my man thinks I've done something stupid, or made a bad judgment call. That aspect of my self esteem is powerful and tough. This adoration requirement only seems to manifest in the physical.

So, if we've met and you think I am gorgeous, then please continue to be in touch. If we've met and you think I am just ok, then by all means keep it movin'.

This chick needs adoration.

Thank you.

(It doesn't take Freud to tell you that I wasn't complimented much as a kid. Must go and tell my lil niece that she is beautiful...)

There's a bold new era to get cracking on! I thought, once, about possibly posting frequently about ‘Audioslave’. Unfortunately a lot of good ideas here at EC have come and gone without really taking root in my blogging routine. And that might be a shame. The track I’ll be posting today is titled ‘Like a stone’. Personally I love this track, but I’ve had a love affair with Chris Cornell and his particular brand of music for a while now. He’s all about making great music. This track is one of those songs designed to punch your brain in the face!

I know this blog started out as a strictly music blog and then I allowed my personal life to bleed over and contaminate the lovely pages of EC. The trend has continued and I just decided to continue writing this way. As the sole writer, author and creative personality behind this blog I can afford myself the luxury to pretty much say whatever the heck I want.

For a long time I’ve found comfort and peace in the songs I’ve put up on this blog. If you’ve been reading, or just listening, here on EC for any amount of time at all I do hope that you’ve found yourself enjoying the music as well. That being said here’s an excellently polished track by the Californian Rockstar. Enjoy.

When I was younger, I used to—not enjoy, exactly, but take a certain pleasure from being low and melancholic. I remember I often spent days at a time in an unbroken mood of gloom, regret, and dislike for the world and for other human beings, - just plain, general despair. A few days after not really cracking a smile, being really sorry for myself and completely bumming out I’d recover looking pale, monosyllabic, and wonderfully refreshed. In later years I’ve had to give up this indulgence. Walking around depressed with no reason is disagreeable behavior for which friends, colleagues and family will chide you, out rightly. Plus I just don’t have the time for it anymore. Whenever I'd get started on a good downward slope of melancholy, work concerns or pleasures would distract me, and I would abandon my mood in irritation. On Saturday morning, I decided to stay at home as bad weather made shopping or any kind of socializing impossible. I sat in my room and watched as the day got gloomier and gloomier. Rain fell constantly. Outside my window heavy drops of rain landed on the parapet with thuds. I sat on my bed and listened to some soft jazz music intermingling with the sound of the rain... All of which appeared to be interesting to me at the time.

Then the call arrived from my friend reminding me that we had to meet up for lunch. So I set out to meet her and Dex. Dex is short, with dark brown eyes and a wholesome north-Indian face except that he’s south Indian. A generous sprinkling of freckles would not be out of place on it if he had them, but somehow he doesn't. They would clash, anyway, with his short hair combed flat, and the aviator shades he carries around, and the black pants and white t-shirt he dresses in. Dex and I have known each other for what feels like forever and as we wait for our third friend, history revives. At eighteen, we went on our first trip together. We used to go out in cold nights that were chill, slightly hazy; nights with a buoyant softness in the air, and maybe the scent of freshly turned earth and a gradually darkening sky that seemed almost combustible with possibility: the kind of night when you're eighteen and you’re sure that something exciting is just about to happen. For a moment the memory of those nights hit me, taking me by surprise in the midst of my lunch with Dex. In the next moment the vividness of the memory was gone. Dex knows what I was thinking about; he just doesn’t bring it up. For a while longer we sat quiet in the timeless time zone smiling at each other. After our friend arrived we became just best friends again, talking about work, a changing world and our possible futures.

It's hard to pick just one B’lore cafe, because so many have been around for so long, frequented more for ambience than for the coffee. Most of my friends love to meet at a café called Java City. It’s noisy, big enough to hold 40 people, a little scruffy and perpetually full of students. It defines what a meeting-place should be. Iced tea is the number one seller, but the cold coffees are awfully good, too. It’s at this place that I met an old friend yesterday after 7 years. That’s who this post is dedicated to.

If there’s anyone who gets my music right, it’s this dude. And props to him because I got a fantastic artist lined up today.

So here are two things I learned about James Morrison. One: He’s probably got one of the best voices I’ve ever heard. And Two: His hair is perfect. His music–which I’ll admit to only having listened to a few of his songs–have clicked rather well with me and they hit me quite the way they should. Of course, that’s not exactly news to anyone, but with the highly enjoyable play list finished, it’s worth repeating: Solid stuff! Good music today at EC, but heck. That happens every month. ;)

As always, any questions about what I wrote or if the music uploaded this week was totally awesome (answer: yes), can be left in the comments section below.
And I’m outta here but not before we hear from James Morrison with ‘You give me something’.