Monthly Archives: May 2011

God I hope I don’t pass out!

My subconscious decided to give me a dream of the wedding ceremony last night.

We were standing next to the river, holding hands in front of the officiator who was speaking the, “Will you promise to love, respect , cherish, and obey each other as long as you both shall live?”. K went first, said his “I do”. Then it was my turn and as K placed the ring on my finger it felt like my chest was being squeezed. I couldn’t breathe and my eyes rolled back into my head. As I was about to faint backwards and the shocked voices around me faded into the distance, I woke up. Still feeling the clutching of my chest, panic started the day with, “Ohno, I’m going to pass out at the wedding!”.

Did any of you have anything crazy happen at your weddings?

-N

Panic, Excitment, and Thankfulness

    The ticket has been bought. And the date moved up to June 3rd. K will be here this upcoming Friday afternoon. I..I…I…I….I feel like my body is shaking from the inside out. Holymoly!

    I’M SO EXCITED OMG! OMG! OMG! I can’t believe this is happening so fast and finally!!!! Two and a half months seemed like forever. Now we are at less than six days. 6 DAYS! What I thought would be a couple more relaxing weekends tieing up loose ends, organizing, cleaning, is now one half of a weekend of my final days of singlehood. No more early morning international dialing. No more late evenings chatting online. No more emails. No more smooches over the phone. No more longing. No more rolling over in the night or morning to find the other side of the bed empty.

    My hands have been so empty without his beneath them. My lips, my forehead, my cheeks, all homeless without his. My baby is coming home. To our home, to start our life together as one. And I am so thankful. Thank you, God.

SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!

So tomorrow I’ll be giving a speech at my Toastmasters International meeting. I’m full of nerves! As if speaking publicly didn’t carry enough fear, I’ve decided to share personal information which is something I rarely do and feel awkward doing even with friends. I thought I’d share my speech here. Maybe it will take away a little of the anxiety…

“As my wedding day fast approaches, I find myself looking to Homeland Security’s former color-coded terrorism threat advisory scale as a means to help me gauge the level of fear I should be feeling. What can I say, I’m a sucker for color-coded charts! So, to properly estimate the threat level, let us begin by examining the risk factors:

It’s said that, “Marriage is an adventure, like going to war.” And that “Marriage is the only war in which you sleep with the enemy.” So we have risk factor number one, the groom. He’s an intelligent enemy with an uncanny ability to read my thoughts. By the looks of him you’d never know how much power this man holds. But it is very important not to underestimate the abilities of your soulmate. One day my heart was empt, then, within the blink of an eye, it was full! Yup, that crafty sonofagun snuck right in. For this one, we’re gonna have to go with red. Severe risk. He scares the hell outta me.

Now, risk factor number two, my mother in law. This risk comes with its own unique set of weapons that due to time and circumstance have the possibility of coming in waves of attacks. She’s in another country and we share only part of a language. Taking into account what her son has told me of her, the brief conversations we have had, the fact that he chose me and she didn’t object, and my deep admiration for her I’m going to have to put this one at threat level yellow for now. I know you’re thinking, “Noelle, are sure that’s wise? Mother in-laws are dangerous animals!” But there are two things really working in my favor here: One, distance. Twelve and a half thousand miles gives me several hours to prepare for a strike. Two, I have a hostage; her son.

Risk factor number three is Time itself. Two and a half months ago I thought, “Oh I have months!” and thereby was lulled into a false sense of security. Time is relentless and unstoppable; the universe’s freight train of change. It’s either with you or against you and you never know which mood it’s going to be in. I have the bad habit of too often thinking I have more of it than I really do. With just a scant three weeks until what I am calling “M Day”, I am putting Time at threat level Red. Not only its threat severe, but inevitable!

Red. Orange. Red. It doesn’t look good, folks. I mean, just look at its acronym: ROR. RAWR! Like an angry beast! That’s a heck of a threat level. I’m not even sure what to do with it, such is my level of fear that it has paralyzed my senses! Marriage has calmly walked up to me, smacked me in the forehead, and left me stunned and amazed. All I can see are the pretty colors.”

Sigh. I think I already have “death hands”. You know, when they go cold and numb on you?

-N

Stair – 1, Me – 0

I’m a clutz. It must run in the family, because all of the women seem to have the same problem. Falls, cuts, scrapes, stubs, burns. And on a regular basis. Thank goodness I have learned to fall with more grace these days. Buuuut….not yesterday.

So I was talking to K in the morning and, trying to multitask, was also getting cash from the ATM and heading down the street to grab some breakfast. Missing half a step, and a step that only is about 4 inches up mind you, my foot came half way down it and in very slow motion I realized I was falling and took a moment to wonder why it was taking so long instead of trying to stumble forward and catch myself. That’ll show me to go out anywhere before coffee! I fell straight to my knees, hard, and continued down to my side. Then slowly got up, dusted off, and started to explain to K what happened as I continued walking down the street.

Later in the day, after a usual day of roaming to various meetings, and the usual up and down you do in an office environment, I finally started to notice the pain in my knee. And that my jeans were sticking to my knee. Uhoh. So upon closer inspection after rolling up my pant leg I discovered my knee had been scraped worse than I thought and was red, swollen, and painful to pivot on or touch. Yuk 😦

So, I’m home today, putting it up as much as possible and staying off of it while I do my work from home. Hopefully it doesn’t end up requiring a trip to the doctor. I really hate going to the doctor.

This whole situation, as well as the amount of times I’ve been sick this year (much more than usual), and other injuries that have occurred (again, more than usual) is leaving me really self-conscious about telling K about any more. I don’t want him to worry or not allow me to go anywhere by myself when he gets here in a couple of weeks. Do any of you find yourselves doing this? Any other clutzes out there?

-N

Sunday Morning Surprise

Weekend mornings were, and still are my most favorite time to sit and talk. It’s such an enjoyable way to wake-up, and leaves me with a smile for the rest of the day. Sunday, April 10th was one of the best…

As was becoming my habit, I’d wake up around 10am, look at the clock, and calculate what time it would be in Bangalore. Then I’d stretch, roll over, burrow further down into the covers, and dial K’s cell. Sometimes he would be still wrapping up the day, but today was a special treat as he had come to bed early. So we both lay in our beds, 12,000 miles apart, having our version of pillow talk.

I asked him to teach me some words and phrases in Malayalam, which is spoken at home (family is originally from Kerala). Well, I had no idea what I was getting myself into! He’d say a word or a short phrase and I would struggle and struggle through it finally giving in to the fact that this just can’t be learned over the phone. It is going to have to be in person. So we talked and laughed and talked about family and such.

Then, he says, “Hey, Noelley…” paused, and said something in another language. After he said it I asked him, “What?” So he repeated in English. “Will you marry me, Noelley?”. Dead stop. I lost the ability to speak. So he asks again, in a different language this time, then repeats in English, “Will you marry me, Noelley?” I’m still stuck completely still and soundless. So he asks yet again, in a third language this time, then in English, “Will you marry me, Noelley? I have asked you first in Malayalam, then Tamil, and Hindi, and English. So will you marry me, Noelley?” I shook my head slowly, stunned, and with my heart in my throat answered, “Yes. Yes, I will marry you, K.”

We had spoken about it before. He had told me that he would have asked months ago if I had been paying attention and there wasn’t anyone else at the time. But I definitely wasn’t expecting it now. I had just started to wonder when it will be, but didn’t feel like pressing. I was simply enjoying this bond we were building and discovering. K had other plans, though. He knew from the very first that I was his, and even told mum way back then lol.

I’m still amazed. Thankful. Grateful. Left in awe by how humble and good K and his family who have accepted me from the beginning are. Sometimes I wonder if I should let them know exactly how much they have me :-).

-N

T-Minus 3 Weeks-ish

I have a secret to tell you: I’m getting married!

At this point, the idea is generally out there that this is happening soon, but no-one knows the exact date, or the groom. While I have the date fairly pinned down, and have communicated that to the officiator (a friend from high school), I’ve never met the groom! Let me explain…

Several months ago I joined a website geared towards those seriously looking for a marriage partner. I’d grown weary of dating and continually running into those who just weren’t as serious as I am. I don’t want to do the indefinite dating thing; it doesn’t work for me.

Alas, this goes deeper.

Over the past year I have continually run into, been asked out by, and gone on dates with South Asian – Indian men. I wasn’t looking for them or trying to get involved with a specific ethnic group, it just happened. But for one reason or another, even though a couple of them did come to be good friends, it just didn’t work out. I didn’t really wonder if this was part of a larger picture or delve into what this may mean until later.

One day an ad for this site popped-up during one of my meandering web-surfing sessions. I clicked it and started exploring the site to find out more. I’d never heard of a site with the specific aim of making marriages. To me, everything else I had encountered seemed to fall into the “dating” category with maybe a slight hint of marriage or long-term committment.

Of course, this site had an extensive success stories section which, due to the region of the world it primarily catered to, was full of South Asian couples. Being a sucker for a success story, especially if it may hold the promise of a love story, I couldn’t resist. I must have spent hours looking at all the beautiful pictures of happy (and not so happy looking, really) couples, and reading their stories however short or long. Then, surprise of all surprises, I am across a mixed couple! Indian groom – white bride. This spurred a search within a search. Could there be more? Pages and pages later I had found perhaps a dozen! And I started to wonder if I had the guts to try such a thing. Could it work for me?

So I joined. I wrote out a detailed description of my character, where I come from, who I come from, and who I am looking for. Though one of my secret desires is to have the power of invisibility, I even uploaded several smiling photos (which looked a lot like this: 🙂 : only right-side up and filled in and with teeth and hair and…). Within a few hours my profile was alive and jive! Ok, jive isn’t really accurate, but I’m not good with rhyming. If I ever post my poetry, you will see. Also, see “dork” in the dictionary and you’ll find some of my other photos. I digress…

The responses were quite a bit more than I had imagined. Dozens a day. General interests, one-liner messages, detailed and heartfelt emails; thank goodness I didn’t make my phone number viewable! I made an effort to respond and genuinely consider as many as possible, but it really became too much. I found myself wishing I had parents to do this for me as some of them had! So after a few weeks I decided to delete my profile and focus on other matters for a while. I kept in a sort of general contact with a couple I had made friends with and who didn’t seem pushy or serious enough to be that I might hold them up from looking elsewhere. I had a troublesome ex creating some issues and I didn’t want to bring anyone else into that headache. I wanted my energy to be clean going into a new partnership.

That, of course, isn’t the end. After a coupe months break of handling issues (the ex story is best left for another time, or maybe to be set on fire), and doing some soul-searching, I came back to the same site for another try. Even though logic tells me I should probably have been trying other avenues, it is hard to explain exactly what drew me back. I felt…compelled.

This time the response wasn’t as large as last time. It was much more manageable. That coupled with a better understanding of what to expect, and what would be and not be acceptable, made this time much more fulfilling. I got down to business. Serious business. I had long email conversations. I spent hours on the phone. I freely said “no” and cautiously said “maybe”. This narrowed the field down to a couple, genuine proposals that really deserved considering. But, there was a very great and very wonderful surprise still in store.

While I considered these proposals I also spent a lot of time in a long email discussion with someone who had become a friend. We shared our days, our thoughts, our beliefs, our relationships, our families, our history, and even our trials on this website. We emailed often, once or twice a day, and chatted in the mornings and evenings for an hour or two or more at a time. We quickly became a part of each others day. I didn’t even realize how much until the few times other things got in the way of us conversing. He had become more and more a part of my life, a part of me. We exchanged “I love you”‘s as is common to me amongst my close friends and people I truly care for. It never occurred to me that it meant far more on his side.

It wasn’t until we spoke on the phone for the second time that the realization hit me. And I do mean “hit”. The first time he said “I love you” I was stunned as if I had just been smacked between the eyes. Everything stopped. All sound, all senses. Everything. Just for a few seconds. Maybe fractions of seconds. Then my heart kicked back into gear at full speed, my mouth went dry, and for lack of better words “it got real”. I had some more soul-searching and discoveries to make. My attention was suddenly completely focused and on alert. I gave him my friendly “I love you, too” back, and drew the conversation to a close. We continued to chat and email with renewed frequency. I started to distance myself and cut communications with others. We spoke more often on the phone, although typically briefly. I wanted to make sure that I completely understood my feelings and what they meant. Then, one day during one of our phone conversations, he says to me, “You’re so deep in me, Noelley.” The sincerity of his voice, the words, what I felt as they struck my very core, was not to be ignored. It chokes me up thinking about it. I realized then in full what this was. I loved him. I felt connected to him in the same way he did me. I couldn’t and didn’t want to live without him. So with an open heart, I said it. “I love you, K.”

That was at the end of March. Two months ago. And now we are three weeks away from tieing the knot that will legally bind us together; our souls are already united.

Next I’ll share with you the proposal. It’s beautiful; you’re gonna love it!

-N

What’s in a name?

I know, it’s an odd name for a blog or anything really. But it alludes to an important aspect of how others view me, and how I have come to view myself. It’s also a part of the reason for this blog, which I will attempt to explain…

Throughout my life I have attracted many people seeking to share their very personal business. Family, friends, strangers. Anything from the color of their urine that morning to the their frequency of copulation; hidden political views, secret fears/desires/fetishes, and of course lots and lots of lower G.I. tract stories. Now, I am only mildly surprised when friends and family come to me with this information or for advice. However, it is the frequency with which strangers do it that leads me to wonder, “Do I have some sort of sign on my forehead?” Do I carry a plaque that can only be seen by others with the inscription, “Give me your sex stories, your fears, your desperate stories of intestinal masses yearning to be free!”

With all the time I spend listening to others, something has fallen by the way side: my own story. When I do occasionally bring up my own personal thoughts with my friends or family they are left amazed, shaking their heads in stunned bewilderment. There’s so little they really know about me and what I think. They truly know so precious little of my life even after many years of “knowing” me.

So, here I am. I’ve come to bare my personal stories to the world at large or whoever happens across this blog. I will be as uncensored as possible without being vulgar. I will not speak about my, or anyone elses, digestive processes in any more than a general, non-descriptive fashion. I’m going to share with you my past, my present, and my hopes and fears for the future.

If you’re into that sort of thing, come on back 🙂

-N