happy gurpurab!

Today marks the birth of the first Sikh spiritual leader, Guru Nanak Dev Ji. Guru Nanak is the one person I would love to share with cup of tea with. His simplicity and wisdom resonate with me. He stood justice, equality, liberation and happiness. Despite the fact that I cannot bring myself to believe in God I cannot help but feel connected to his teachings. Guru Nanak gave us the 3 pillars of Sikhism: naap japo (recite the name of God), vand chako (share your earnings) and kirat karo (earn and honest and pure living)

More on Guru Nanak soon…

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happy news

I built my 3rd bear this past weekend and I’d like to introduce you to Brown Sugar Cub! He is 170 grams and 38 cm and absolutely adorable!

You may notice that he has pink ribbons on his ears and that is because he wanted them. Brown Sugar Cub is very comfortable with his masculinity and wants to live authentically as life is short not to have fun with fashion.

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I have discovered

Over the past few months I have discovered something about myself. Now before I share my new self discovery, I would like to mention (in an attempt to make it public knowledge that) I can now comfortable breathe through my nose.

Why do I feel the need to announce this you might be asking yourself? (or at least I am imagining and fantasizing that you are asking yourself because that makes me feel important)

For as long as I can remember I could never breathe through my nose, I have been breathing through my mouth since I was 5 (at least that is what I remember). On a good day the left nostril was open allowing me to comfortably inhale and exhale but the right nostril was blocked. On another good day (a good day is anytime one nostril is open) the right nostril was open and the left one was blocked.

On a really bad day I had allergies (the bad days existed more than the good ones), my nose was a leaky faucet that not even the best plumber could fix! It dripped, it ran and was wiped with nothing but the finest tissues (I like to think that I am single handedly responsible for the continued financial success of Kleenex brand tissues). When I say that I suffered from allergies, I was in AGONY. People would consistently offer me home remedies or feel sorry for me and wish that I get better soon. The worst was, I always sounded nasally! I never really got to hear what I truly sounded like because so much of my voice was filtered through my nose. It was sad, embarrassing. I was tired, physically and mentally drained. My nose sucked all the life out of me. UNTIL NOW!

Avamy. What I will name my daughter if I change my mind about havi kids.  This is the nasal spray that has enhanced my quality of life and could have enhanced it ten years ago had I listened to my mother who had been consistently encouraging me (to the point of botheration) to use this spray but I didn’t listen to her and boy do I wish I could go back in time and listen to my mother.

Tonight I sit here and type this blog post being completely able to breathe through my nose without any obstruction. Nothing is leaky, nothing is running, I have no boogers and I don’t need a Kleenex!

Aside from my bodily, material self discovery what did I discover about the immaterial part of myself over the past few months?

I feel free. And it feels fucking AMAZING. Free to be myself. Free to be ME. Almost carefree (I say *almost* because I obviously have not found my way out of my crappy job at the bank but I am working on it!) I feel uninhibited (kind of like feels after having had a bit too much whiskey) with a boost of confidence that can only come with 4 greys and age. I can speak my mind and do what I feel like doing openly (except for the obvious, I’ll only pick my nose when I know that no one is around and if I am caught I will play cool).

I feel comfortable and honest in my being (both my material being that is my body (because I look spectacular naked) and my immaterial being that is my personality (because I have made great friends and had fun with cool strangers because of it) that continues to develop and my moral spirit that continues to evolve (it is not perfect)).

I feel secure. If I were an operating system I would be Blackberry. I feel like my actions and my inactions are authentic. I don’t care what people think about me (entirely) because I’ve learned that people are always going to talk, and if they’re going to talk regardless one should give them something to talk about. I for one am gracious that I would even be considered worth someone’s time and energy to talk about . Consequently my new found ability to not care (which didn’t happen over night) has caused more people to gravitate towards me, good people, people I like and who like me in return. Moreover, I have learned that people who talk 1) unfortunately do not have hobbies or ones that occupy them enough 2) aren’t having enough good sex or just haven’t quite figured our how to touch themselves 3) are unsatisfied with their lives or the choices they have made 4) just need to pick on others out of sheer envy. Guess what? Neither of them apply to me! (Okay maybe 4 applies to me just a little because I am still at the bank but for the most part I have made the right choices 78.95& of the time)

I have been very honest in my blog and in my tweets, almost to the point where some people do not believe what I write about because apparently my posts do not add up to the in-person Kiran. Believe me (or choose not to) but this is all of me. And as much as I hate myself most of the time, I love who I am and am not changing for anyone except changing natural with time.

This song is fitting:



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I am going to NYC

I booked it! I booked it! My first trip solo.

I have always wanted to fly alone, stay alone, wander alone, eat alone and sleep alone because I know that I wont always have someone to travel with. And it’s finally happening.

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uh oh

I’ve lusted, pined for, wanted, cared for and desired but have never been loved back. Unrequited love has been a constant theme in my blog. Rejection, uncertainty and the prospect of living with the knowledge that I will never be adored has consumed me to the point of apathy. To the point where I have (knowingly) deceived myself into thinking that I no longer desire to be in a two sided love because I constantly find myself in a one-sided love or in situations of instant gratification, no strings attached.

But the thought still stings. The thought that I will never be able to feel the feeling (that so many feel) of melting into a puddle of happy as I look into someone’s eyes. But not just any someone, someone who is smitten by me and I by him.
I felt uneasy at first at the thought that I will never experience the pleasure of someone overlooking every negative trait about me (of which there are a lot I admit) and see nothing but perfection. Feel the emotional and psychological instability that prevents me from thinking straight as I bounce between exhilaration and euphoria, have bursts of extreme energy throughout my mundane day-to-day-life and suffer (voluntarily) sleepless nights where cups and cups of coffee with lots of cream and sugar still cannot wake me up.

Despite my lack of interest enthusiasm and concern about never having been loved (for longer than a day or night) there always existed a little hope in the corner of my heart. A huge part of me still wants to experience the feeling of uncontrollable trembling as he kisses my lips, discovers sensitive-to-touch parts of my body for the first time. I want to experience my heart race as I see his name appear on my blackberry when he calls me. I want to feel panic, anxiety, despair (not of the existential kind) when we have a little fight. I want mood swings that parallel the behavior of a drug addict on PMS. I want to experience the high that can only happen when I see him walk into the room and the low of having to deal with his absence when he’s gone away for work or on vacation.

I want to be that “love object” that is obsessed over, pined after, one for which he becomes weak for. I want to be the one that makes it impossible for him to say “no” to. I want to be the experiencer of love and the one who ignites the experience for the other, I want 85 percent of his thoughts to be consumed by me. I want to be adored. I want to be showered with hugs. I want chocolates and post-it notes. I want to relate to a Stevie Wonder, Bryan Adams and Celine Dion song and finally understand what Shania Twain means when she says “Man! I feel like a womyn”. I want to matter.

Having blogged my reality, my thoughts and my desires out for the virtual world of strangers that find my blog through hashtags and google searches as they search for someone who can relate to their unfortunate situations, I have come to find myself in a unique situation which has caused me to question myself and what it is that I really want in the face of having maybe found it.

I met a guy. He is absolutely head over heels smitten by me. He’s tall, he’s neat, wears pinks socks, and addresses me using terms of endearment that don’t sound belittling (like honey or sweetie, he calls me “love” and “darling” and says it complete with an accept. We spent a month together before it was finally time for him to go back home. As my luck would have it he lives in another country. I have no doubt that he likes me, thinks about me, tries his very best not to message me when we haven’t spoken for over a few hours in a day but ends up messaging me because he can’t help it, admits that he wishes he didn’t live so far away, asks me about my day, takes an interest in my stories, listens to my political views and despite my past, my flaws, he wants very much to be with me. He’s eager to tell somebody about me, he desires to one day introduce me to his family except there is a problem.

He feels like he’s chasing a dragon. Having been single for my entire life and only seeing love from the inside looking out, never fathoming that I will be in the position of being pined over, lusted after (not because I under value my amazingness or attractiveness) the idea of someone liking me is becoming “too real” to handle. I cannot decide if this is indeed because I am a loner who finds comfort in being a lonely and is addicted to a certain kind of sadness or because I don’t feel any of the emotions that I thought that love is supposed to feel like with him. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know but he I find him oddly comforting.

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my sister’s wedding

My sister is married! M-A-R-R-I-E-D. I can’t believe it. I mean it feels like it has happened because it *did* happen but it still feels surreal. The big day was August 8th which kind of sort of explains my absence from my blog. I was so busy with the wedding and all the events leading up to the big day that I found little time for myself and do the one thing that matters most to be in the world, blogging!

But I did what I had to do. This summer I made one promise to myself when my mom was diagnosed with cancer which was quite a major turning point in my life. I reavaluated what matters to me so I decided that I would do everything I possibly could to make sure that the days leading up to my sister’s wedding were perfect and I did everything in my power to make sure that things were done to her standards making it the most memorable event of her life. I put the finishing touches on the house to make it look festive in her favorite colours, helped her shop for odds and ends thereby making countlss trips to the dollar store, Costco and Michael’s runs, taking the ladder up and down different parts of the house, I even got my hair and make-up done because she wanted me to (after 29 years of refusing to pay money for hair makeup because not only am I fully capeble of doing it myself, I don’t like people touching me. But I did it and I never looked more alien to myself than I did at this event! I will not post a picture of my dolled up because I look unrecognizable)

Everything was spectacular, the colours were vibrant the finishing touches reflected my sister’s personality, the events (yes events. Indian weddings are week long affairs. There are 3 days that lead up to the wedding and the wedding is event #4!) were small and intimate against the backdrop of my father’s backyard pond and really authentic.

Really. It was a great summer, it was an exciting summer, it was a happy and memorable summer (just as memorable as all our summers spent traveling abroad, taking road trips and sometimes just spending time together in local hang outs) but it was the most bittersweet summer I have ever experienced in my 29 years of existence. My best friend, my worst enemy, my biggest cheerleader, my annoying little sister got married and then moved to the United States. This is the first time in my entire life she has been away from me for more than 1 week. Although I am midly upset that the house is empty and I have nobody to ignore or make fun of she is thrilled, over-the-moon-happy that she is closer to the Kardashians than she ever was in Canada.

Here are some pictures of the event

IMG_7211my and my mom


the backyard


the side fence


the backyard


us 4


pink flowers


boutonniere making


the wedding car. me and my little sister booked the yellow buggy that she had always wanted and didn’t tell her. The bride-to-be was so disappointed that her yellow buggy was unavailable that she was ready to dress up her Yaris to take the Gurdwara. The day before her wedding we surprised her!


finished product




more decorations!



my little sister making rangoli


finished product


simple mendhi

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i’m here i’m here i’m here!

I haven’t blogged in a while and I miss it. No, I haven’t suddenly found myself a life or something but a few things that happened in my life that have kept me from blogging. My sister got married, my mom has been diagnosed with cancer, my little sister has gone away to grad school, I am living with 4 parents each dealing with a unique stage of their life of which I cannot relate and I hate my job. I have blog posts in my head that deal with every day that has gone by that I have not blogged and I will be ready to share.

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