From Another Life:
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Stillwater, OK

Can a girl regret a good impulse? OH YES! In many ways there is a part of me that sighs with smug satisfaction at what I just did. Thats the part of me that wears a blinding white saree with a blue border and magically removes crusty stains from clothes, always smiling, big red bindi gleaming on her forehead like a beacon of her morality and the victory of her upbringing. The other part - the one that..if she had washboard abs..would be wearing a cut off tee and torn denim, smoking a ciggy at the bar- that part is whacking her head on the shiny bar counter and yelling unmentionable obescenities. Though, much to my saree clad self's chagrin, it wasn't so much my dedication to polishing my halo that finished something I had myself unwittingly started. It was pride. I mean yes, who doesnt like to think that respect makes up for the lack of ..well many things. But the truth is, respect is a cold bedfellow. The truth is it was just pride - the kind of pride that wrinkles its nose disgustedly at me when I know I am being undervalued, and I am willing to take it in lieu of abject boredom - that pulled me up short of folly, or perhaps from truth - who knows!. Even when I could do better - I'd chosen not to..for various better reasons, but basically boredom. But sometimes 'almost' just doesnt become 'enough' anymore. You see, I know what perfection feels like, I have tasted it, felt it settle into my marrow before I learned to search for flaws, seize them eagerly,flaunt them and then to transplant that transient perfection with ever-lasting mediocrity. Now, when even mediocrity has sloughed off my slick skin, I realize - what perfection exists, other than in divinity, that is not fleeting? Too late, too late! Perfection - even its fickle beauty so tainted, by my own knowing hands, does not wash clean - all my Lady Macbethian efforts wasted. And knowing that, accepting my incompleteness, resigning myself to my self inflicted wounds it seems has not taught ego to knuckle, kneel, break in supplication. Some part of me - and I dont know what she likes to wear, I dont know if she sports a bindi or if she smokes - rejoices in my imperfection still.