new life...

So, I've finally settled into my sweet lil apartment in Baltimore, successfully attended the first few days of classes, made some very good friends, garnered enough reading to last me a lifetime (ah, the eternal pleasures of being a graduate student!).

Baltimore as a city seems to have a rather jaded voice. You hear about the sketchy neighbourhoods, the pollution scares, dark alleys, muggings and so on. Yet after coming to this city, I've also noticed how friendly people are, how beautiful the water looks through the big bay window at the Aquarium, the relatively clean and safe streets in Charles Village. I am not blind though. I do see the boards nailed shut in certain areas, the fact that people tend to travel in groups, and stay home after 7pm (unless you drive, and are with a group of 3 or more..lol).

Yet the city seems rather alive. My perception might be biased because of the people I interact with, whether it's at my apartment, the local student community in my area or the larger student community at grad school. Everyone seems friendly, welcoming and always willing to offer information. The key is to ask :) . In that regard, I guess it could be said that it's the same elsewhere. However, I like this city. I love Toronto (I know I'm biased, it's been home for a long time now!), yet this city will always mean something unique to me.

home...

home...
where does that exist
i've heard it said
that it's where the heart is
yet many more weep
at the mere thought
of leaving behind bricks and mortar
the essence of home to them..

To me, it's a place with your family
yet, I feel at home when I'm alone
is that right
or is that strange..
I believe it need not be either...

I love both options..
sitting in my room in Toronto
with my cup of tea
my mom cooking in the kitchen
my dad watching TV
my sister browsing the net
or here in Baltimore
where I sit alone
on my bed
wondering whether I should cook dinner
or eat raisin bran :)

Home is where you feel secure
safe within the confines of your personal space
certain that if something comes your way
you can deal with it.
I am at home in Toronto
and in Baltimore
with my family around
or all by myself...

by
Angela Archana Vincent

a new start...

Ever wonder how time flies by? I usually don't, either I'm too busy to notice the time or I'm so relaxed, I enjoy the spare time..lol..yep extremes exist, even in my mundane life. I remember talking about grad school in August last year, and it seemed so far away. Now it's here already. Tomorrow, I fly out to Baltimore to start grad school at Johns Hopkins - this experience is a first for me in a multitude of ways - my first graduate program, my first time without my family or close friends, my first time in Baltimore..I could go on and on. It's scary, thought provoking, exhausting (never knew planning a move was such a massive task!) and downright exciting. I was talking to a very good friend a few minutes ago, who was preparing to defend her Master's thesis tomorrow (besta luck you-know-who-you-are), and she described our emotions perfectly. I quote "It's scary, exciting and extremely scary!"..lol..couldn't word it better!

I'm actually amazed at the student community at JHU. Even before I land in Baltimore, I've made friends - other incoming and continuing students. Helpful and friendly. Let's hope the next year is as calming, exciting and educating, although I wouldn't mind if it's a little less scary.. :)

Well, for the next few days, I'm going to be busy shopping, cleaning, settling in and typically driving everyone around me nuts! To that end, Baltimore here I come.....

Oh, and before I end today's ravings...I was feeling a little lost the other day because I felt like I couldn't write 'poetry' lately..kinda like a writer's block. I just realized that this year alone I've written 3 poems so far..woohoo..the feeling cannot be decribed or understood unless you've experienced it yourself.. :) :) :)

un-named words...

dark thoughts swirl around
taking shape in the shadows of my mind
obscure and faint
yet with the definition and clarity of an architect's blueprint

emotions so difficult to describe
trickling like raindrops on my windowsill
echoing in the emptiness of the room
while my mind scrambles for rest...

a thousand words yearn to spill forth
spewing meaning, anger, contentment or peace
i look at the nonstop swirling motion
mute, in the face of such confusion

words must be set free
when the mind is calm
fickle words start torrents
they do not soothe troubled waters

calmness is hard to strive for
when the mind yearns otherwise
anger and confusion are sisters
bound tight like conjoined twins at birth..

be rational, i must
awhile it may take
lessons learn, i must
the hard way always...

by Angela Archana Vincent @ 6.35pm August 9, 2008

nature's rang :)

Rang means color in hindi, and yesterday when my mom and I went on our usual evening walk, we saw the most gorgeous display of colors in the evening sky. Here are a few images from my erstwhile companion..ta-da..the cellphone..lol..

introspective or opinionated or narcissistic?

I just realized that this blog marks my 3/4 century point in my blogging past...people speak, this is my 76th blog. Now I wonder, does this mean that I am turning introspective or opinionated or that I have become horribly narcissistic.

Whatever the reason, it's rather exciting to keep my blog updated. Talking about exciting things, life seems to be at a standstill lately, yet I've never felt life / time flow by so fast. It's already the end of June. For the longest time, I kept saying to my self, school starts in August, and that's a long while away so I have time to do etc-etc-etc. Now, I suddenly find myself with a week to go before my month long vacation in India and a mere 8-9 weeks away from my scheduled move to Baltimore.

I find myself at cross-roads before I feel prepared to face such decisions, yet isn't that what life is about, making choices and facing the consequences whether you are ready or not? Guess so, and I'm going to quit being so philanthropic in a bit :) Life's too short to be introspective all the time, eh? Returning to my once-in-a-blue-moon philanthropy, I'm walking away from the only career path I've known for the last 3 years to explore a passion in a totally different field, hoping that my passion is realized in a career which matches my skills, let's wait and see. Someone wise should say some deep meaningful 'stuff' for folk to refer to in such situations. All I can think about is, I'm ending one path, and I'm looking forward to another. Change is daunting yet exciting. The mere idea of a vacation refreshing. The financial challenges are thought provoking, whereas the academic innovations are making me rethink my mental limitations. Hopefully at the end of the day, I'll find what I want and figure out another new path :) :)

Yey, I'm going on vacation next Monday, so maybe someone will miss me and my beautiful words (***tsk tsk tsk, pretend you care you ignorant folk!!lol***) :) :)

I want an elephant..:)

Everytime I see a cute animal, I turn to my family and saw 'I want **enter cute animal**', and they will humor me by replying 'yes, you can get one when you have kids'..lol..this is my little play-along scenarios, where I know I am never going to get the cute pig or donkey or tiger, rather a situation where I can voice my reactions..childish, maybe..but nonetheless entertaining.

Today, I decided to invite you into my world..

I saw this cute post about elephants by Jai Arjun Singh.

He talks about everything from elephant dung notepaper and elephant skeletons to the battle of the sexes in elephants..lol..let me explain the last bit with this quote form Jai's blog..

"Lady elephants are better at public displays of affection, much the same way it is with humans. This one kept nuzzling her husband's belly with her trunk. He seemed to enjoy it but he didn't reciprocate - looked straight ahead."

And then he commits the horror of mentioning on his BLOG that his mom said his wife looked like the elephant (ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh noooooooooo)...here's his quote and the picture he refers to....

"Abhilasha feeds a baby elephant. After seeing the photo my mother, in the tradition of all good mothers-in-law, remarked that they have exactly the same smile on their faces, though Abhi is definitely missing a trunk."

Now, I find this picture very cute, and I like to think that the chubby lil baby elephant is smiling because he is getting fed, but honestly you do not ever wish to be compared to a baby elephant...tut tut tut..lol...I just hope 'Abhi' enjoys Jai's sense of humor...

Before, I end tonight's mutual reaction session, let me post a few more cutesy elephant pictures...

I love this picture..look at that water spray..darn it, I almost wish I was the one taking the picture (and yelling at the elephant because he sprayed water on my camera lens..teeheehee)

Look mama, baby elephant, he is so cute, I want an elephant...(mama responds, yes yes you can get one for your kids..waaaay into the future...lol)

and the cutest one of them all, the mahout catches a quick wink as the elephant cavort in the water (love my words..cavort? and elephants? oh well..but this one looks like he is waiting for the mahout to hit the peak of his nap before spraying him with water...watchout mahout!!!...lol)

and goodnight my lovely audience, im going to go and dream about my little animal farm now..lol..

ramblings...

another 15 minutes where words spilled out..here are my ramblings...

Night Light

chaos prevails around you
dark lights filter through the night
as we walk hidden in the bushes
you quiet me with a signal

i hear nothing
i see nothing
not even the dark lights i saw earlier
yet you sense the danger near

what is it that you can see...
what is it that you hear?
I'm blind and deaf to the passing moments
everything around me but your hand in mine

Suddenly I hear steps in the distance
the sway of leaves as someone walks past
my heart suddenly strums in fear
palms sweaty, i await the danger

suddenly so close, i can smell them
their heavy treads and foul breath
as they mutter about us
'where did they go?'

i try to stay absolutely still
the wind whispers and moves my clothes
you are motionless
beautiful like the stones around us

they wait a moment
they are right next to us
it seems a lifetime passed
before i hear their receding tread

i am about to heave a sigh of relief
when you caution me again
the danger is never past
winds carry the slightest noise

we stay that way
motionless and stonefaced
until our legs quiver and my arms shiver
and the morning light shines around us..

slowly we make our way
through the cavernous forest floor
each step cautious and slow
a journey i never dreamt about

life's paths are never meant to be easy
except in our childish dreams
yet i never foresaw a path quite like this
fraught with nightmares, and my best dream yet...

in the dangers and quivering aches
lies a future built strong
they are wise who once said...
hurdles faced together are the best foundation for a life together...

By,
Angela Archana Vincent.

I miss you..

..my faithful lil ol blog :(

It sounds rather pathetic (yikes!), harsh yet true..how can you miss an inanimate/virtual item...but I miss blogging..the outpouring of thoughts and emotions had became a way of life. I would come home, read something interesting, and I would write all my thoughts for the world to read and comment upon.

Lately, I find I've become rather self-intensive...but now I'm back to my usual bubbly self!! My grad school applications have all been finalized, I was accepted into all my favs with fin aid, I might add (tootin my own horn, I know, I know)...my decision is final (I'm off to Johns Hopkins in the Fall, yey!)..I've planned for most contingencies and am now counting down to the start of my vacation period..

The thought of vacation...especially one where I do not have a set time-frame to return to work...is absolutey enchanting. I love work, but I find the thought of a long vacation just right...a nice long holiday before grad school has me smiling..constantly I might add :) :) :) ...oh, and the fact that I am going to India shortly, and get to see my grandma and aunts and uncles and cousins and a baby niece and nephew might have something to do with the constant smiles as well :)!

And before I forget, yesterday was my beautiful sister's birthday...so to mah darlin nutty sister, Happy Birthday buddi :) :) :)

and I will end my ramblings tonight with these words...

pristine forests all around
a rambling brook close by
a rock protrudes into my path
as we amble along the river's edge

behind us lies a rocky valley
the past which we have overcome
before us I see a high mountain
the future which we must conquer

rocks, valleys and mountains
are merely life's lessons
many more we must face together
before we can cross into the sky

- Angela Archana Vincent

Abu Ghraib and Death Metal in India

It's been a long time since I've been fascinated with a specific book. I am an avid reader, and I typically have 2-3 fav authors. However, I predominantly like to visit the library or Indigo's and browse through the shelves, until I find a few I want to read. Today, I read this blurb about Abu Ghraib, froma book written by Lewis Alsamari, and am fascinated:

"...

The notoriety of Abu Ghraib was enough to chill the fervor of even the most revolutionary citizens. It was said that thousands of men and women were crammed into tiny cells and that abuse, torture, and executions were daily occurrences. The regime tested chemicals and biological weapons on the inmates, and some prisoners were given nothing but scraps of shredded plastic to eat. Chunks of flesh were torn from the bodies of some prisoners and then force-fed to others. Gruesome tortures involving power tools and hungry dogs were routine, and thousands of people who entered the doors of that fearsome place were never heard from again. It was known that mass graves existed around the country, and it was known in general terms where they were situated; but of course nobody dared to hunt out the final resting places of those poor men and women who had become victims of the enthusiastic guards at Abu Ghraib, for fear of becoming one of their number.

The four AIDS-stricken women were dealt with in a fashion brutal even by the standards of the prison. Stripped of their clothes, they were placed, alive and screaming, into an incinerator so that they and their “vile disease” could be utterly destroyed. In this way Saddam “delivered” our country from the horrific infections of the West and from the inequities of the “evil Zionist state.” I kept quiet about my maternal grandmother’s Jewish heritage. She was one of only a handful of Jews who remained in Iraq during the great exodus of 1950. Before that time there were about 150,000 Jews living in Iraq; now there were fewer than a hundred, and it would have done me no favors if anyone suspected that I might embrace Zionism.

Other atrocities took place more openly. As living conditions became increasingly intolerable, many women were forced into prostitution in order to make enough money to feed themselves and their families. It was an occupation deemed unacceptable by the state, punishable by death. The swift hand of justice was left to officials of the Ba’ath party, who were given orders to seek and behead all those suspected of prostitution. The standard of proof required was low, but the enthusiasm with which these officials carried out their work was high. Accompanied by two “witnesses” from the local community, they forced their way into the house of a suspect then dragged her out into the street, where a specialist executioner was waiting with a sword. He sliced off the head of the screaming women with one deft, well-practiced stroke. The head hung outside the woman’s house for two days, and her front door was branded with the warning “Hathihee Al-Qahba’a.” “This is the Whore.”

I remember a parade down one of the main thoroughfares of Baghdad when I was a child. The road was closed to traffic, and thousands of people joined in the march, which was intended to celebrate the glory of Saddam. As the day wore on, however, a small group of insurgents became vocal in their criticisms of the regime and started to shout anti-Saddam slogans. There weren’t very many—certainly only a small proportion of the crowd—but the Republican Guard was quick to react. A helicopter immediately flew overhead, and white paint was poured over the entire crowd—insurgents and noninsurgents alike. Heavily armed soldiers were then dispatched with orders to shoot anyone stained with white paint. The whole operation took less than an hour. A few lucky souls with paint only on their clothes managed to escape the crowd and change, but people with paint in their hair or bodies, where it was more difficult to remove, fared less well. The military scoured the area and shot dead anybody suspected of being part of the “uprising.”

..."

The brutality is mind boggling. Amit's comments about this book are insightful (as usual)...

"It underscores something that many of us seem to have forgotten in our idealogical zeal: Iraq under Saddam was a hellish land. Yes, the Americans bungled their invasion, and with their arrogance created more enemies than the friends they expected. (I foolishly supported the invasion at the time.) But I’m not sure they made Iraq any worse off. "

I will end my ravings tonight with a link to another article. This one is by Akshay Ahuja from India/MD, USA, and reflects his journey in the Indian Death Metal music-o-sphere (does that word even exist? too tired to check dictionary.com now)...here is a brief section:

"...

On the mp3 page, the band said that they wished to compose pieces that combined “melody and brutality.” The three songs on the website were named “Shattered Shield”, “Perceiving Resurrection”, and “Removal of the Fetus”. I tried “Shattered Shield”, which was identified as being about police and government corruption.

The song loaded. A single guitar played arpeggios on a slow, dark three-chord progression. The drums came in, and then some fairly complicated ornamentation from a second guitar. Wow, I thought, they’re pretty good. Then the drums started pounding bapbapbapbap, the guitars raged, and the vocals came in—grunts, growls, screams, all emerging from some place deep in the back of the throat. I couldn’t imagine what connection the words had to the Indian police force.

...

We got back in the car and drove through the empty streets, the blue coming into the sky. We reached my home just as dawn was breaking on Independence Day. I gave Pradyum a hug, and we promised to see each other again soon.

When we did, more than a year later, Gorified had broken up—the others weren’t serious enough about it, Pradyum said—and Pradyum had formed a new band called Infinite Dreams; their music was softer, more melodic. His band mate was headed to London for a six-month course in audio recording, and Pradyum would hopefully follow him there. Then they would try to really make it abroad. He and Anitha were married now, and she was moving up the Alamo chain. Pradyum was making good money too; he had started a real estate company that, he told me in an email, dealt in “total real estate solutions.” The rural land around the city was being bought up for office buildings, and Pradyum brokered deals with the farmers and secured the land for the companies, making sure, he assured me, that no one was cheated.

From the calls he took on his cell phone, I could already tell that he had the necessary combination of forcefulness and charm. I told him that he must be good at his job and he seemed offended. Music was his life, he said; this was just temporary.

We drove in his new car around this stretch of land, beautiful and green after the monsoon. We were heading towards the Nandi Hills, an hour outside Bangalore. There were buildings going up everywhere.

I asked him about the guitar, and he told me, half sheepishly and then with a smile when he saw that I didn’t mind, that he had sold it. It wasn’t right for his new band, he said. He had made a rather sizable profit on its sale.

I remembered what he had said about identity music, and wondered how much of your life you had to give to something before you could claim it as identity, and how you could measure the level of that allegiance. Was it in clothes and nose rings and how many hours a day you spent doing each thing? Or maybe all of that was irrelevant, and it was purely how you looked at your life, even while selling real estate or being an engineer or taking midnights calls from Americans.
Pradyum turned the stereo up—it was Judas Priest—and we headed towards the mountains.

..."