Happy Thursday.

I think everyone should partake in a random act of kindness today.

Buy a stranger a cup of coffee at starbucks.
Help someone carry groceries to his or her car.
Bake cookies for your neighbors.
Hell, even hold the door open for someone.


I promise, it'll feel real good.

A Field Guide to Water Lilies

It’s as if they have their own armor. Their own shield to protect them from the brutal attacks of the natural world. A waxy layer of skin that stands between their vulnerable souls and the dangers of reality.

The rain fires like sharp torpedoes, repeatedly pounding against her delicate limbs. The rain is malicious. The rain is persistent. It continues to bombard her fragile frame, but despite repeated attempts, it fails to kill her.

The droplets begin to accumulate, gradually weighing her down.
Her body is heavy. Her body is weak. She longs for sunshine. For clear skies and a gentle breeze. She yearns for warmth. For comfort. For ease.

She is hurting.
She has been fighting for so long, under the constant attack of mother nature’s soldiers.
It’s as if the world is against her.

She wants so badly to give up. To rest. But she seems to carry on. To stay strong.

She is resilient.


And then she realizes, that with a slight shake, she is able to disperse of the droplets. She continues shaking, and with each turn, the poison glides right off her body.
The weight is lifted off her shoulders. She is light again.

The sun emerges from the gloomy sky. Once again, she has survived.

Panic.

I had been standing at the counter well over 15 minutes vacillating among the plethora of fresh bagels. Cinnamon raisin, poppyseed, honey whole wheat, asiago, and chocolate chip were all screaming my name. “Pick me! Pick me!” They all presented themselves so perfectly. How was I to choose?
“Arthi, just pick one. We’ve been here way too long. You’re going to miss your flight.”
My mom anxiously fiddled with her Blackberry eager to get back to work.
“I don’t know which one I want. You decide for me.”
I don’t know how I got to this point. To this level of frustration. It had become such a hassle, such a headache, to make such simple decisions.
“I’m not choosing for you. Pick a bagel now.”
Her firm voice surprised me. Her patience for me was quickly deteriorating. It was now or never.
“I’ll just take the plain one.”

I had conquered Panera and it was now time to return to Phoenix. With melancholy eyes, I dragged a tired body, a heavy duffel bag, and a plain bagel on board a tiny Southwest plane. As I shuffled down the aisle, frustration began to fester within my mind. Window seat or Aisle seat?
I had always preferred Southwest airlines to the others. The friendly staff, the good deals, and the complementary beverages won me over effortlessly. The open seating, however, configured the state of pure chaos.
The “what ifs?” began to fire. What if I sit by the window and have to get up too many times? But what if I sit by the isle and get too sleepy? I like being able to rest my head against the window.
The line quickly grew behind me. I could sense the irritation of the other passengers.
I had to choose now.
I quickly glanced over the remaining seats and narrowed in on a quiet window seat. I settled in, took a deep breathe, and closed my eyes.
I was suddenly awakened by the shriek of a young boy. A mom and her son had cornered me in. I was done for.


I should have picked the aisle...

A Cup of Comfort

My restlessness builds as the clock approaches noon. My heavy eyelids are battling gravity. I’m fighting to stay awake.
My professor’s voice fades in and out. Depression. Anxiety. Schizophrenia. I just can’t listen anymore.
My stomach churns as I enviously watch my classmate devoir a candy bar. I’m starving.
I’ve been up since 4am. I’ve already managed to run 7 miles, fill up my gas tank, finish an essay, and wash my hair. And I just want some tea.

“I DON’T WANT TO BE IN THIS CAR ANYMORE.” We had been driving for days.
Actually, it had only been five hours. I couldn’t handle being crammed in the backseat of a tiny eclipse any longer. We were making our way back to Baltimore from Manhattan. The traffic was vicious. My legs were throbbing. And I couldn’t bear to listen to my brother’s pounding speakers vibrating within my head. I want to get out of here. I want my couch. I want warm clothes and silence. And I just want some tea.

I just miss her so much sometimes. We used to go on spring break together every year. We would pick a new island or anywhere warm for that matter and just take off. We would lye on the beach. Soak up the sun. Forget about life.
We used to go to quaint restaurants and order a single appetizer to share. We would never order real meals because we didn’t want to fill up. We always had to get dessert. Anything with ice cream, caramel, chocolate, and two spoons.
I wish Baltimore wasn’t so far away. I wish I could see her whenever I wanted. I wish I could start off every morning with her. Just me and my mom, and our cups of tea.