This Turtle's Life

As I look back on the last few years of my life, I can't help but be surprised at how far I've come. Who knew that a little turtle from the hills of Marin could someday wield so much power and influence?

It all started when I was just a wee thing. I was a twin, and times were always rough growing up. There never seemed to be enough food to go around, and my parents could never tell me and my brother apart. His name was Terry and mine was Larry, and eventually we just became known as "TerryLarry." It was frustrating not to have my own identity, especially since I always felt that I was different -- not just from Terry and my parents, but all the other turtles I knew growing up. I used to love designing little legwarmers out of moss and cute hats out of acorn shells. I guess you could say I marched -- slowly -- to my own drumbeat.

One afternoon in May, I decided to take a walk by myself. I was feeling pretty down; I had just applied to design school and had gotten rejected, on account of my being a turtle and all. All of a sudden I heard high pitched screaming from down the path. I started heading away from the sound, thinking it might be a coyote stuck in a hunter's trap or something, but I guess I misjudged the direction because I immediately crossed paths with these hikers. One of them was still screaming -- something about a snake -- and the other two were laughing. I tried to look inconspicuous and head back into the bushes, but I think it must have been fate or something. The screaming man saw me, picked me up, and plopped me into a cup. At first I was terrified, but then I thought, hey -- this could be the opportunity I've been waiting for my whole life. A chance to get away from my brother and my family and start fresh.

After a long drive, we arrived at their apartment. There was some argument about what to do with me, but pretty soon they stuck me in my own little tank and I was living the dream. I imagined Terry, back at home in Marin, and here I was in my own condo in the city! Not to say that there wasn't an adjustment period. My adoptive parents were long on enthusiasm but short on actual know-how. They learned, though, and after a few failed attempts (note to readers: turtles in general do not enjoy truffle-oil cheese) they got to know my likes and dislikes. Along the way they changed my name to Rapture, which I think really suits me better. I felt accepted, and more than that I felt like they showered me with affection and little gifts. God knows where they found these things, but pretty soon I had my own Vespa scooter, hot tub, and Apple laptop. I also had a lot more space to work on my designs, and my new parents were more than happy to buy me a mini sewing machine and to model the outfits I made for them.

The real turning point in my life came when I saw my first Bollywood movie. I felt like something all of a sudden clicked. THIS was where I was meant to be -- designing costumes for Bollywood dance numbers. While my parents were asleep, I'd watch and re-watch scenes from "Om Shanti Om" in slow motion, admiring the sequins and chiffons that swirled through the air. I knew it would be tough, but somehow I had to convince my adoptive parents to let me move to Bombay and try to make it on my own.

It was a tearful scene when I told them my plans, but I think deep down they knew that I couldn't live in their little tank forever. Papa Isael helped me pack my suitcase and Papa Hiroo made me promise I'd call them as soon as I landed.

Say what you will about India, but I never once felt discriminated because I'm a turtle. In fact, I felt like it opened up more doors for me in Bollywood. After only six months of living in some pretty squalid conditions in the slums, I moved in with Karan Johar and became his personal assistant. Pretty soon he gave me a chance to design costumes for one of his films, and the rest, as they say, is history! Papa Hiroo especially is so proud of me, and whenever he and Papa Isael come visit me I tell everyone the story of how they rescued me from my horrid upbringing in the jungles of Marin. Now I'm working on a screenplay about my life and I hope to reach out to my birth parents and Terry -- they won't believe how far I've come.

Villanelle

The dust beneath the keys remains unseen
but I can tell that it is always there.
I wish that all around me was pristine.

You think I'm crazy and I think you're mean
the way your crap lies all around our lair.
The dust beneath the keys remains unseen.

The apple on the counter's turning green,
the floors are strewn with balls of dust and hair.
I wish that all around me was pristine.

I never realized that you weren't too keen
on keeping our house neat with perfumed air.
The dust beneath the keys remains unseen.

My clean obsession's lived since I was a teen
who vacuumed up the dirt that wasn't there.
I wish that all around me was pristine.

I want my house like in a magazine,
so folks will enter shocked and gasp and stare.
The dust beneath the keys remains unseen,
I wish that all around me was pristine.

Finding a Present Value is the Reverse of Finding a Future Value*

What about past value? Recently I've found myself mulling over past relationships and mistakes made. Generally these are the same thing -- past relationships = mistakes. I'm not what you'd call "super-experienced" when it comes to dating. I think it's a combination of factors:

1) Not being allowed to date until...well, I guess according to my parents, I was never allowed to date; I was just supposed to magically get married.
2) Not being what most guys are into. Generally people think that guys are into whatever woman walks past them, but sadly I've learned this is not the case. I'm not sure what it is. I don't think I'm ugly. I just think that I'm not attractive to most guys. I often get overlooked.

So anyway, the number of actual "boyfriends" I've had (including my husband) is four. Not high, not minuscule. And of those four, I'd say two were complete disasters. I can find absolutely zero past value in those two relationships, other than to indicate to me that I'm a horrible judge of character (my own included) and I should not be trusted to make wise dating decisions. Of the remaining two, I think one was just dumb luck, and the fourth and ultimate one was a great choice, though I think that could also feasibly be chalked up to luck. Because you just never know.

In my current relationship I'd say that the present value is not the reverse of the future value. I'd like to think both are highly valuable. But then maybe what the phrase means is that, like I said before, you never know. The present value could be awesome and the future value could be crap. Or death. Or falling into a volcano. Which also equals death.

Hm. So basically trying to find a future value is futile, so therefore you should bask in the present value, which the reverse of that because you should actually be aware of what you have at the moment (?). But what about "you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone"? Is Fundamentals of Financial Management trying to get all philosophical on us?

I guess I should value what is in front of me at the present moment: good friends, fancy laptops, strawberries, wine, and the clacking of fingers hitting the keyboards, inspired by what could have been the most banal of sources.

* Writing exercise inspired by a randomly-selected phrase from the book Fundamentals of Financial Management.

Flight vs. Invisibility

I just heard the repeat of an old "This American Life" episode in which people are asked if they would choose flight or invisibility as their superpower of choice. When it comes down to it, supposedly, everyone who says they would choose flight is lying to themselves and really we'd all just rather be invisible so we could steal shit and look at other people naked. I always thought I'd definitely be someone who would choose flight, but I have come to realize I'm not so sure.

Sometimes I think Facebook is kind of like an invisibility machine, in a way. You get to peer into the lives of people from your past, or their friends, or their friends' friends, or random people who would probably be wondering why the hell you know where they went to college or what kind of shoes they just bought to wear to their cousin's wedding. It can be a little creepy. One minute you're looking up an old high school friend and the next you're gazing at a photo of a horrible ex-boyfriend's adorable children and wondering why he deserves such a perfect-looking family. I think this is why I could never handle the power of invisibility if I was given it, and also why I shouldn't spend too much time on Facebook.

Romper Room

I am so glad this issue has been resolved.

Continuing Obsession: Vintage Swimwear

As a child, I generally got one swimsuit per summer. Sometimes my mom sewed them herself, and they were pretty cute. As time went on, my poolside fashion depended on the shape I was in and what I wanted to cover up. I had a brief five-year period when I could show off my skinny lil' self in skimpy two-pieces (far from my mother's disapproving glare, of course), but those days have come and gone.

In college, I discovered that Southern California girls own more than just one bathing suit -- you had several different suits for lying out, dipping in the pool, hot tubbing, actually swimming, etc. Suddenly I owned a suitcase full of bathing suits, many of them vintage ones scored from rummage sales and thrift stores in Santa Barbara. Naturally the suitcase was vintage as well. Some people have an "ick" factor when it comes to buying vintage (a.k.a. "used") swimwear, but I don't really care. Just wash it in hot water and it's fine, I think.

Besides, who would want to look like this:

when you could look like this:

??

I Want...

1) Every pair of these chappals from Tribal Route in Bombay (I already own the ones pictured here).

2) This scene to magically happen in front of me, or better yet STARRING me.

3) These outfits.

4) To stay at this hotel.

I can dream, right? Out of these, the chappals might become a reality. But who knows? I'm keeping my fingers crossed.