High school started last month and;

I don’t really know what to make of it.

It isn’t necessarily that I can’t handle it, I’ve learned far more about self perseverance and it’s grown. But it’s just taken me some time to get used to it all. To get used to the prospect of the next four years of my life. And it hasn’t been all that bad, except for one or two times where I’ve been tempted to

cry. 

But nothing a little perseverance can’t undo!

I’ve already been swamped with homework but I usually try to complete it right away. And sitting through lectures is something I’ve become to excel at. But, middle school and high school really doesn’t have a smooth in-between. And sure you get equipped for the main subjects and cycle of classes, but it doesn’t prepare you for the completely different vibes you get from high school itself.

So for the past couple weeks(after recovering from the slight mental shock)I’ve kept my head high and my self esteem a bit low. My current goal is to take college coarses throughout high school for college credit, study early for the SAT tests and CAT test, take AP and Honours class in the coming years; and try not to break under the pressure of it all. And it’s now my main focus. But I won’t study myself to the point where I have a severe burn out. No way, that’s not my vibe. But I’m going to try my hardest, push myself to do more, and reach my goals and my dream.

Ever since I’ve stepped foot on my high school campus, I already knew in my heart that everyone would go there separate ways pursuing their own goals. My friends, classmates I’ve known since kindergarten. We’re growing up and stopped clinging to the haze of middle school, to the clear path we have to pave for ourselves in high school and beyond.

I’m being kept very busy by school work and such, so my blogging seems to have come to multiple halts which I’m trying to mend. So, if you’re wondering about the significant lack of content, it’s probably because I’m writing an essay for English, solving equations for Algebra, studying DNA for biology, conjugating verbs in Spanish, practicing my saxophone for Jazz Band, or snapping pictures and editing them for Photography Arts class.

Or all of the above.

So here it is everyone!

Yosemite, once again.

Ever since I was little, I had this fascination with things that were near myths; stories that were used to meddle with a child’s view of the world. Perceived as fiction, but is it really?

Throughout childhood, mermaids would flick their periwinkle tails on the dozens of sheets of paper littering my portion of the desk of my first grade classroom, inky hair flowing behind them. I would imagine the glittering jewels of the unknown see, palaces rising out from the sea floor as it’s citizens went about. Fairies wings glistened as I ran a graphite pencil along their gossamer ailerons. Dressed in downturned flowers and wearing hats with acorn shells and strings of lavender us to tuck their hair behind their prolix ears. Dragons would bear their articulate teeth on thick sketchbook paper as I waited for passing periods to end between classes in the sixth grade. Eyes unrelenting and boar into it’s viewer, I would spend hours just perfecting the smallest details rather than the overall picture but I still felt proud after finishing each piece. Even if they looked like demonetized pool noodles with wings.

Magic has always been something that I believed in, from childhood to now; I find myself longing to soar above the clouds, mounted onto the back of a pegasi, to have sword in hand as I leap from mast to star board as I fight side by side with Peter Pan. Sometimes, I even wish that the ceilings of my bedroom were made of glass rather than hard wood; so I can gaze up into the night sky until my eyes become heavy. Lulling to sleep from the pounding of the rains in the fall and spring. Because when I look at the night sky, just before I go to sleep; I feel light and content. Even though it isn’t like a storybook or a fable, it feels close enough that I can let all of reality melt away.

But looking at mountains and trees that brush the sky, turquoise waters that pool around massive boulders, tortoises that could just as well be dinosaurs. This is all elemental augury that we can’t compare to anything else. And it all seems normal because we’ve seem them, heard of them, know they exist. And that’s why none of us seem to accept the fact that it is in fact, “real” magic.

And you know what?

Real magic is walking alone on a wooden path as the sky turns from purple to blue. Real magic is digging your fingers into fine sand as the sun sets over the sea. Real magic is climbing into the warm covers as rain pounds outside, kissing the roofs with a constant pitter patter. Real magic is sitting quietly, watching the stars twinkle their hellos into the night.

Real magic is already grounded for us on the earth, celestial or not, whether you believe it or not. It’s there.

But, nowadays, it’s hard to do that when all the people around you are two busy trying to capture each of these elements on their phones, rather than with their eyes.

It’s funny; when people are given access to a smartphone of some kind, everyone seems to think that every little thing they are doing undoubtedly needs to be shown to the rest of their world. I say “their” world instead of “the” because, we send it to the people who we know, who we think that care. Friends, family, close acquaintances.

Sending these are much different from sending an article, a piece of art, real time photography/videography. Sharing those just make the people around you more aware of the fact that incredible things like this exist, or it might be something helpful to someone’s health or gives useful knowledge to the foreholder. That kind of sharing is okay for anybody.

But there’s a very clear line between sharing and oversharing. 

Sharing is as simple as a couple pictures and videos in a one or two week time frame. Not too much, not too little, but just enough to let the person on the receiving end knows your constant, and you won’t come off as too clingy; which is definitely a plus.

But if your basically broadcasting your entire life to everyone, every couple of minutes on social media, your text archives, to hundreds of people you don’t even know in the real world; then sorry to tell ya buddy but you’re a little wishy-washy.

Whatever we send, a picture or video from a recent roadtrip, a morning selfie under the sunlight, a quick snap of your breakfast, a black cat sitting under the windowsill, a group shot under a sign, or a silly selfie complete with peace signs and smiling faces. These little moments are what ground us to who we are, what we love, and are what we always look forward to seeing the moment you realize that it’s there, it happened, and it’s yours. 

Sometimes, I sit straight up in bed, awake before anyone else, completely still, just watching little specks of dust dance in the air near the window. The rest of the neighborhood breathing a sigh of relief, once the constrains of a busy week has finally let go. To let us catch our breath, wipe away the work we had endured as we bathe into the warm embrace of our free days. It’ll usually be seven or eight o’clock in the morning, and I revel in the fact that I had the capability to wake up early on the days when the busy schedule school day doesn’t need to be applied. My mom would find it a shock to have found me awake before eight in the morning, on my own without fuss. It’s one those rare moments when I awake with a sense of eagerness rather than the urge to smack my head down onto my pillow again.

It’s little moments like that, that can make you whole and happy. No matter how flamboyant, adventurous, or headstrong. We all need a little escape, a little window we can slip into when stressed or in a dark place. It makes wherever you experienced it, like home. And the fact that we have lived long enough to understand just that, is a feat in itself.

Even though I usually have the brain capacity of a peanut, it’s good to know that you have boundaries when it comes to getting personal with people. Especially considering that in this day and age, some random person could send a meme to the Queen of England if they wanted to(for the sake of keeping our countries at mutual respect for each other, lets purge that idea from our heads)

Sure that picture of your morning avocado toast is cute, and that shot of your new designer shoes is somewhat aesthetically pleasing. But at the end of the day, it’s just like the hundreds of pieces of toast and designer shoes posted by others on social media. Nowadays, a lot of people will go out of their way to take just one shot to post and share with other people. Situations like that have led to terrible accidents and tragedy that could’ve been prevented.

All in all, I think we should consider our safety rather than the irrational need to show the world that you went to this place, ate this food, met this person, or did this thing; just to photograph it happening rather than enjoy it while it lasted.

Thinking back, it’s crazy that it was just a month or two since my uncle and his family went back to India, our summer days left with laying out on our deck watching the birds, sipping fresh smoothies while chatting, the air conditioning running. Sitting in the library reading alone, while my brother finishes reading lessons with his tutor. The days went on almost idly, preferable to the frenzied days where my dad has work, my brother and I have school, and my sister, well; she spends her days picking through stuff in my bedroom, or in the kitchen; finding what she likes and carry it around with her for the majority of the day. And quite frequently, using it as a projectile when something of a nuisance is near her(insects, food, me, etc). I say that there’s no difference in her summer schedule and the rest of the year.

I think our summer was less productively spent. But rather, used as a well deserved time to relax, not having to worry about projects, essays, concerts, or lectures.

My family doesn’t go out often, most of our days usually spent at home enjoying each other’s company and just doing work or hanging around(apart from my parents; my dad who has work throughout the week, and my mom who’s constantly doing something around the house and keeping all of us in check)And it’s always like that, school time or not; and I like it. Course we still go out throughout the week, I mean we’re not complete hermits okay? Like little shopping trips, everyday workouts in the gym, shorts walks in the nearby school grounds, or trips to the nearby department store; like any normal person. And obviously the library is a constant in our routine throughout the week no matter what time of year.

The farthest we had gone this summer was Lake Tahoe, and we still hadn’t gone on our yearly Yosemite trip, so lo and behold; just a couple days later we had a room booked and our clothes packed and ready.

From hindsight, it would’ve looked like we were going on a cross-country road trip, not an overnight stay. My mom went all out with the packing, just like our trip to Lake Tahoe. She thought over every single possible situation too;

Stomachache? Here’s some castor oil.

Need to keep the baby entertained? Here’s a couple books and toys to keep the kid quiet and without fussing for a couple moments.

Want a snack? Here’s a massive stock of chips and edibles from Costco, so you aren’t allowed to starve.

Want a specific type of food? I brought the rice cooker, an electric stove, and(almost)every possible cooking utensil in existence.

Injured? Here, bandages, Neosporin, and a hug.

Bored? Here’s some books on the Kindle and a couple toys.

Want something cooled? Stick it in the ice chest.

Need your phone charged? Here’s, like, five charging cables, a power bank, and a couple adapters.

Feeling nauseous?  Some small trash bags that smell like baby powder, nausea relief pills, and a lemon should do the trick.

Need hygiene products? I’ve brought sanitary pads, small tubes of shampoo, moisturizer, and body wash, Chapstick, floss, deodorant, and everything you could possibly need to keep your body clean.

To be completely honest with you, without my mom’s antics and packing perks, I don’t think our traveling would be nearly as smooth. And yes, in the days before travel, our house is always a bit hectic. But it’s was all worth it while we peacefully drove along the freeway listening to old Tamil songs and praying that one of the two smaller children wouldn’t throw up from motion sickness.

My mom had spent the night before preparing savory puff pastries the night before, a favorite amongst our family. And it was only fitting that we brought some along to eat on our trip. We all munched on our snacks while driving further towards our destination. Flakes from the puffs were falling into our laps and stuck to the seats. My sister was in a funky mood from having woken up so early into the morning and I sympathized. I poked her cheek with a fresh pastry but that probably wasn’t the best approach since she looked like she wanted to push me out through the window.

So I took back the pastry and bit into myself all the while trying to keep my little sister from deciding that she wanted to disown her big sister. Which, considering the direction I took to get her to eat; wasn’t necessarily going well. The drive itself to Yosemite is generally about three to four hours long, give or take. So I came prepared with earbuds and a sick playlist to boot. I also get really tired very easily when driving in a car; and the prospect of having to sit for three to four hours in the same spot was all that appealing. And I probably had the worst seat in the car too. Which was smack in between my sister’s car seat, and my brother.

So there I was, the oldest sibling sandwiched between the munchkins who had the advantage of being able to comfortably lean onto one side or the other if they needed to if they got tired. While I couldn’t lean onto my sister’s car seat without feeling like I was going to dislocate my shoulder. And mind you I like my shoulder and I intend to keep it attached to it’s socket thank you very much.

I looked at my sister in envy as she sat primly in her plush car seat, cushioning on every side and a seat belt that didn’t dig into her neck and chin. But this seating arrangement has become customary ever since my little sister was born, so until she grows out of her car seat(I’ll probably be graduating from high school or entering college by then)this was how it was going to be for a while until that time comes. So I sucked it up and listened to my playlist while praying one or both of my siblings didn’t have any gastrointestinal troubles throughout the trip.

But I wasn’t feeling that good myself, since I had just hit my monthlies(ladies you know what I’m talking about)so very subtle waves of nausea and fatigue would creep up at me and make the car ride all the while worse. Thankfully, my parents said they wanted to stop at a nearby Subway sand which shop to grab a bit of lunch to eat when we arrived. I used the restroom and before we exited the shop, my dad said he was gonna go to the convenience store that was nearby to grab some lemonade for me. He must’ve heard me tell my mom because even through my thorough protests he went out a grudgingly bought an canteen of lemonade. I was really grateful though, because the sour taste splashed onto my tongue and immediately felt refreshing.

I have a bit of a sweet and sour tooth if that makes sense. I have a soft spot for a lot of little confections like mochi and strawberry filled, well, anything. I usually try to keep my sweet tooth down but still can’t resist little bites here and there. But my attraction to sour things is completely different and a little, I guess, bizarre now that I think about it.

You see, when I was probably three years old, it was one of my first trips in to India. And my grandmother and grandfather had a lime tree right outside the front of their house, that still thrives today. Standing proudly while distributing lemons to the birds and squirrels, and, well, the ground.

My mom said that I was tailing my grandmother in the kitchen-as children do-and being the sweet women she is,  I guess she decided to give me something to eat to sate me over. That little edible ended up being a lemon. My mom said that I had taken a bite, but instead of scrunching up my face and being traumatized for life with a fear of citral acidic chemical reactions mixing within my saliva; I loved it(God that sounded better in my head)And I still do today! I like that zing you get once you bite into something sour, the tasting lingers in your mouth for a while rather than fading away. And when it’s a fresh fruit, it feels refreshing and makes your mouth feel cleansed and detoxified. Not to mention that the citric acid can help clear up light nausea. With those acidic properties, it also manages to attack the dirty germs that linger in your mouth and teeth.

When I tell my friends this, I get one of three reactions:

1. “Oh you too? I love sour things! But only candy not actual-like-fruits.” Then they proceed to almost choke as they attempt to eat a Sourpatch Kids candy.

2. “Man, I just love eating a refreshing lemon on a hot day. It really hits the spot doesn’t it? No one else really gets that feel do they?”

3. Proceed to back away in muted terror

Since we had left so early into the morning, we had reached Mariposa County around midday, the rolling hills glowed under the sunlight, our eyes scanning the view outside. The windows were rolled down all the way, wind whipped our hair and whistled in our ears and we raised our voices just to talk to each other. However, the winding road didn’t seem that good for my sister though, because by the time we decided to take a little break from all the driving(well specifically my dad since he’s had to keep his foot on the gas pedal almost constantly since we left.

. . .

So, that’s a wrap on the first part of Yosemite, and in all honesty, I’m a little disappointed I couldn’t write more but it’s nearly 11:00 and I’ve got school tomorrow. I decided to focus more on the philosophical details of this post, mainly because a lot of us don’t really decide on our own to pay attention to details like that anymore. And I wanted to emphasize the fact that living in the moment is what the real reward is, rather than a couple likes on your archive. And in this day and age it’s nearly impossible to control, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

Well, I’ve already got a lot of content drafted for you guys which are certainly on the way.

Stay happy, stay eternal.

An’ G’night!

Part 2

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I woke up with the sheets bunched up near my feet, and my little sisters little body curled up on the other side of the uncomfortably warm bed. The night was mostly spent with me tossing and turning in bed, trying to find a comfortable position without adding on even more heat emanating from the heater that was linked to the other rooms.My skin felt unnaturally feverish due to all the high temperature from the room and bed. Which didn’t really give me the sense to have a good mood that morning.

I slowly got out of the bed, checking the time on my phone, before lazily making my merry way downstairs, also tempted to ask my mom why the second floor felt like an industrial microwave that wanted to turned me into burnt curry before even brushing my teeth.  Course that was an unlikely output of the situation, but my groggy, sleepy state, would’ve said otherwise. My mom was already busy in the kitchen, as anyone would’ve expected, after I brushed my teeth, I had was having awful cramps(ladies you probably know why)so I had no intention in moving from the spot where I was being devoured by the couch and body pillows. And even if I did move, I probably would’ve been suffocated from the dense factor of that couch.

Surya and my dad had just left to buy donuts for everyone, probably from a nearby shop, my brother and my little cousin went on to take beanbags and start throwing them up and down the stairs, letting them scatter everyone too, which led me to being the one to make sure that nothing that wrecked while they played. Which also resulted with me becoming a target for them to throw bean bags at me as well. Which wasn’t that bad until I got poked in the eye. I blinked my eyes rapidly while they watered profusely and went back upstairs with my crippling pain(haha no I’m just a wimp) and hung out with Himani for a bit, just talking and laughing until our stomachs hurt.

It was nice spending so much time with Himani, we don’t get to see each other as often as we would’ve liked because she and her family live and hour or two away, and both of us and our families can be really busy throughout the year with our own things. So the fact that we could spend time with each other was really a precious thing.

And sure, the time gap between the last time we saw each other, and the present is there, but that doesn’t make us any less entitled to be just as comfortable with each other as we usually would be. No matter how much we grow up. Sure, we don’t necessarily have an obsession with Rapunzel and The Little Mermaid, but we still seek out what interests the other, what’s quintessential for us individually, and honour it, without any interference; without shaming it. Like a silent oath of respect or something. Kinda like those things guys have, like a “bro code”, but deeper I guess. So call us cousins, but I like the term surrogate sisters better.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

By nine or ten in the morning, everyone was just chilling out, and the house looked nicer with the natural sunlight filtering through the windows and the glass sliding door that led out to the small deck in the back.while watching my mom scramble around the place like a cat. Opening bags, taking pans, filling plates; she’s probably one of the only people that I know who can successfully multitask and actually get things done.

And she went all out with the packing too. Like she brought bits of almost everything we have in the kitchen, including ingredients for pancakes, to make from scratch, dosa batter, and every kitchen utensil you could possibly need to make any meal. And sure, I think my mom was just a tad bit extra, but that tad bit of extra can go a long way in this case. My mom had even made tomato chutney and was making dosas on the heavy pan she had brought along, while fixing up different breakfasts for each person who had a preference. And at that moment, I knew she was basically the head of cooking for everyone that moment on, and to the day we leave.

For that day however, we were planning on driving around Lake Tahoe(literally and figuratively)and maybe hitting some spots at on the way, like the beaches or the viewing points around the lake. Himani and I talked about it on the deck in the back, before our dads, and Babu peryiappa joined us out back as well and launched a conversation with the two of us. Babu peryiappa was giving me ideas on how to escalate from beyond writing my blog, and introducing new ways to do that. And I wanted to follow up on some of his ideas too, they were intriguing and I couldn’t deny that.

My mom was bringing hot plates of food out, and it was so nice, to be eating homemade food in a place that technically isn’t home. We sat around eating and talking, my dad deliberately taunting and messing with Babu peryiappa(they’re brothers what do you expect)while I laughed at them.

That sounded way better in my head.

Sorry peryiappa. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

By the time everyone had eaten, showered, and were ready to go, it was probably 12ish in the afternoon.

And just getting all fourteen people in three separate cars?

(¬‿¬) hahaha no. *cries*

The three younger boys wanted to sit together, Thulasi had her own toddler preferences;plus her car seat was something to think about. The three broskateers(that’s gonna be the code name from my two uncles and my dad, you know, like the three musketeers, but bros)were the ones driving, so they don’t have a mandatory preference, my mom would go wherever my sister went, and I had a strange suspicion that Sanjay and Surya would go wherever the little kids weren’t.

And it’s not like I could blame them, I mean usually, driving with children can end up with constant retching(that from gastrointestinal sensitivity, or the fact that the dang kid just wants to get on your nerves)it can be loud, there will be lots of conspicuous giggling(that hopefully isn’t about you). Silence is almost nonexistent, and talking seems to be a constant must on the “How to get on people’s nerves list.” Constant babbling will come from the baby, and mimics of the babbling from said baby, are usually done by the younger boys; who think it’s absolutely hilarious that a human being with a brain could talk such gibberish. And there are also many moments where you wish that the song “Baby Shark” didn’t exist.

Lake Ta-hoe do do do do do do

Lots of dri-ving do do do do do do

So much fun do do do do do do

LAKE TA-HOE  *jazz hands*

Anyway, Himani an I were cool with going in any car, just as long as we could still sit together. Seemingly unlike the rest of our profoundly standing group. The two of us were basically like a pair of extremely well trained cats, that you could place anywhere and they won’t complain unless properly fed.

See, we’re angel children, we’ll do anything you bid us to do.

*cough* yeah right *cough* 

Long story short, everyone was finally seated somewhere inside one of the three cars, but the time it took us to do that had already docked us some time for our sightseeing extravaganza.  I was in a car with my mom, my sister, brother, two little cousin Saran and Vaikunth, Sanjay(with much complaint once he saw the bunch seated inside)and Himani; with her dad driving. Himani, my mom, and I were watching the windows, and pointing things out to each other.

“Wow, look at that house!”

“Ooh the colour on that one is so pretty!”

“The windows are so big in that one!”

“Hey check out the little garden in that house!”

“Look it’s a Hobbit house!”

Guess who said the last one.

Seeing everything in the daylight was so much more overwhelming, because I could finally see how much stuff is in Lake Tahoe. I mean way more than I expected. I just assumed it would like Yosemite, where the nearest store is a couple miles off,  probably one you’ve never heard of in your life. But Lake Tahoe is basically the polar opposite when it comes down to common urban circumstances.

At least from my personal experience, everyone nature reserved area doesn’t have many stores or other extra amenities like that. But I guess since Lake Tahoe is such a popular tourist destination internationally, it’s opened up to having more than one or two stores here and there. And a portion of the money earned most likely goes to the organization(s)that make sure Lake Tahoe is kept thriving.

Here are some facts(that aren’t mine)that I found on rvlove.com.

” The amount of water in Lake Tahoe (39 trillion gallons) is enough to supply each person in the U.S. with 50 gallons of water per day for 5 years.

The amount of water that evaporates from the Lake each day (330 million gallons) could supply a city the size of Los Angeles for 5 years.

The water is 99.994% pure, making it one of the purest large lakes in the world. For comparison, commercially distilled water is 99.998% pure. Lake Tahoe is over 2 million years old. Tahoe is considered an ancient lake and is counted among the 20 oldest lakes in the world.

Year-round resident population is 53,000. Total population can reach 300,000 on peak days. About three million people visit Lake Tahoe each year. This is comparable to the numbers of visitors to Grand Canyon National Park (3.2 million) and Yellowstone National Park (2.7 million). “

We were driving for quite a bit of time before we had stopped at a lookout spot where it was facing the southern part of Lake Tahoe, which meant we could also see the itty bitty little island with itty bitty little boats. Okay, it wasn’t that small, but compared to the rest of the lake, it was puny.

We all stepped out of the car(we were parked right next to a portable lavatory, which was unfortunate)Babu peryiappa had parked somewhere nearby, but my dad was going around in circles trying(and failing)to find a parking spot. And we watched and waited, up until we saw him just take a u-turn and go back onto the road and up, where he seemed to be trying to find a parking spot there. Before leaving, he dropped off the group that was driving with him to the side of the road we were standing on and skedaddled outta there so he could park somewhere else. So there was a cluster of us walking towards the look out area, where we could see the itsy bitsy teeny weeny island.

I found out later on, that it’s called Fannette Island, and it’s said to be haunted. *gasp* More details on that later, but anyway, a light wind was blowing and there were quite a few people looking out at the lake and taking pictures. Now that we had a clear view of the lake, I could finally see its unique blue colour, and how big it actually is. And now that we were closer we could see that there was this small stone castle thing. My mom pointed it out and I was completely convinced that the woodland creatures had built it on their own. But, I did my research after the trip, and it was actually a tea house that a wealthy women had used many many decades before.

My dad finally stalked his way towards wear we were standing, my mom and I were trying to tame the kids, who seemed to have found there way onto a large flat surface rock, and started messing around. We stayed for a little longer, took a couple pictures, before deciding to leave. I say deciding, because we all only shuffled along a few steps before my little cousins skidded and skinned his knees on the rough ground. Blood glistened on the scrapes and threaten to drip down, but Sekar peryiappa was quick to ask for bandages and Neosporin, which my mom whipped out from her backpack.

The three adults fussed over him, while he chided them all with “I’m fines” and “It’s okays” But the serious scrapes on his knees said otherwise. Himani let herself have her own share of scolding her little brother as we started back to the cars. And we all hoped the hasty bandaging would be enough to last through most of the day. And he didn’t seem faltered by that either, and I kind of wanted to pat him on the back and give him chocolate or something because he was pretty chill considering what had just ensued.

Other than that, we were all pretty much happy campers, my sister was giggling most of the time with the boys, Himani and I messed with the filter apps that were on our phones and made funny pictures of each other for a little bit. We were driving for quite some time however, so everyone was getting a little jittery, and the thought of food made me hungrier by the minute. I guess the three brosketeers were feeling it too(or they just had spidey-senses)because, soon we all had pulled up into the parking lot of a Safeway, which looked like a regular old Safeway you would see in city or town, and not some knockoff with off brand items that basically taste worse than the amount you paid for them.

I knew we would have to make exceptions when it came to food, since there were so many of us traveling together. But I found it hilarious that we ended up having to go to a Safeway, in Lake Tahoe. I’m so used to having to rely on whatever my mom brought when we go on road-trips, since there usually aren’t any nearby stores in establishments like natural parks. So I didn’t expect to end up going to a Safeway, with everyone to boot. And I found it utterly hilarious that we had to go to Safeway in order to survive for half the day without passing out from undernourishment. Everyone decided it would be a great idea for all of us to go into the store together and grab food and snacks.

That was horrid idea.

Himani and I maneuvered around, and whisper-hissed-screamed at our brothers to stop going to different aisles without us. But their our brothers, and who in their right mind would decide to listen to their older sisters, even if whatever they’re telling us most likely just them making sure we’re safe. Pfft, why even? I salute all of you out there who listen to their older siblings; and if you don’t. Well, I don’t think ya’ll want a lecture right now, because little siblings seem to underestimate the power of a hard lecture from their older sibling.

The majority of the time, it was me and Himani chasing after our brothers, and then our mothers calling out to us to chase after our brothers; it was just an endless cycle of:

“Can these perfectly capable girls manage to track down their brothers in a store that has more than a dozen aisles in one place?”

Himani and I finally got our brothers and handed them of to the adults, who were still looking for food items that were anything besides chips and cookies. Himani and I decided to do our part and wandered along to the yogurt section, I grabbed the first thing that I saw that looked familiarly edible, which was orange creamsicle flavoured Yoplait. I grabbed four or five and we wandered back to the cash register, where everyone else was crowded. Our purchases we really hasty;

• A mixed box of bagged chips

• Yogurt(Provided by Himani and Yours truly)

• Cookies

• Pizza flavoured Pringles(that I wasn’t gonna touch)

• Ice cream(that melted a couple moments later, woops)

• Baby Carrots

• Oranges

• Macaroni Salad

• Bananas

Not the heartiest things you could eat, but we managed.

We walked back to the parking lot, where everyone hung out and opened the food we bought. I grabbed the yogurt and gave one to my dad, who supposedly decided to pat me on the back for deciding to get something other than chips and cookies. But there weren’t any spoons so we had to compromise with forks.

Eating yogurt with forks, on a sunny day in Lake Tahoe.

Yippee.

I’ve decided that I’m going to turn my excerpt of my trip to Lake Tahoe, into three separate intervals. Representing each day we were there. Then it’ll be easier for me to release content. And for you guys to take a breather between posts so it doesn’t feel like you’re being hit in the face by all the alpine glory of Lake Tahoe.

So.

Lake Tahoe anyone?

Yeah I know, me neither.

(Just so we’re clear. This post is not sponsored by Safeway.

Or the sun.

Or every sand particle in existence.)

Fair warning, this post has a lot going on in one place, so you’ll have to be reading really carefully if ya wanna catch all the details before you go on to the next paragraph. I suggest you read with a timid pace. Also, you’ll seriously get confused if you just skim the whole thing(and probably question why I have access to a computer) . With this post, even I’ll start stumbling on a lot of details, because honestly, I think I’ve had too much human interaction for the past month.

Last month, my uncle and his family decided to visit the United States for a couple weeks. My uncle seemed to have some business that he needed to take care of for his company, mostly meetings and stuff. And it had been four years since the four of them had decided to come to the U.S. again, which really hyped up the whole thing for everyone. And I was pretty excited myself, because spending time with my uncle with all of us together as a big group, also meant that a lot of unexpected adventures were going to happen, and he did not disappoint.

Course that also meant a lot of preparation on our line of there trip, since they would be alternating between our house and my other uncle’s house. My mom and I got more blanket and pillows from the garage, took out the crib in the master bedroom so there would be more space. And since my brother was getting a bunk bed anyway(#notfair#why#Idontevenusehashtangs#what)the sleep situation wasn’t an issue in his room.

But, when they finally arrived at our house, I was kinda having an internal language crisis.

My brain got so wired to all the Tamil, mild Japanese, English, and Spanish, that it all started messing with my train of thought.

Two years worth of Spanish. English and Tamil for as long as I’ve been existing I guess. And the really light Japanese vocab that I’ve been trying to teach myself.

And it doesn’t make it any better than my Tamil isn’t all that great. A lot of my relatives know that. I mean I really wish I could just be able to say something lightning fast in Tamil and understand it at the same time. And if someone’s talking to me in Tamil, I wish I could just break it all down in my brain and then translate it myself “Oh here brain, what they just said all translates in English to (fill in the blank).”

Anyway, when my uncle and his family came, I was morally terrified and knew I was kinda screwed. But I tried my best to make sure I didn’t say gracias or arigatou gozaimasu. Anyone reading this would think I’m just trying to make a show of what I’m learning, but seriously, all the different vocabulary and such have totally messed up my brain. And it didn’t make it any better that I kept mixing my English with my Tamil, which just made me sound flat out stupid.

Usually, I don’t stutter, but when it comes to speaking Tamil, I have the same vocal coherency as a two year old spelling out the letters of the alphabet. And I didn’t want to give off the vibe that I’m an antisocial meal worm, but the language crisis didn’t help.

See, in India, it would’ve been different. Since I would in a setting that only has that language circulating with other people I can pick up new words and vocabulary that are used frequently by everyone else. And then incorporate it into my set of Magical Tamil Knowledge, and BAM I have attained the ability to communicate with other people in India with the very little and basic expertise I have. I can hold a steady conversation without as much stuttering as I would’ve if I was talking one on one with someone back here in California. But I’m still not to the oh-my-gosh-i’m-a-bilingual-god, level.

And don’t worry, I won’t reach that level of cockiness even if I do “master the art” of knowing another language on command.

Maybe.

Now besides the obvious stuff, I didn’t know where we would take road-trips to, I just knew that whatever peryiappa says, goes. That also meant that we would be taken meticulously to places we probably haven’t been to before. Therefore resulting in a circumstance that we would call “fun” but what professionals would call, “peril.” But you know, he’s my uncle, and ya gotta love the guy.

So, to my extent of knowledge(and eavesdropping on conversations conducted between my parents and my uncle on the phone.) We were going to Yosemite, along with my other uncle and his family who live in San Jose. We had everything planned, a hotel, what we would see, my mother was even getting everything packed and my bought stuff for the trip. It seemed like nothing was going to get in our wa-oh, oh wait.

Oh that’s right! I totally forgot!

We didn’t go.

YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING DID YOU.

WELL ME NEITHER. NOW WE’RE BOTH ON THE SAME PAGE.

CONFUSED?

YEAH ME TOO.

So, since peryiappa didn’t tell us that he was coming to the United States until the very last minutes, my parents didn’t book three hotel rooms. You see, since we go to Yosemite almost every year, my parent just assumed that we were obviously gonna go this year without fail, at that time. But that was before we were informed that Babu peryiappa was gonna decide to mosey on over to the United States.

So the only thing my dad could really do was call the hotel that we were supposed to stay at, and ask if they had an extra room or two. The result?

They said no.

Multiple times.

At that point I think we all kinda knew that it wasn’t gonna work out since we’re such a big group, and there was only one room, and the fact that we wanted to go when it was the Memorial Day weekend made us realize that it would be easier to just go somewhere else.  So Lake Tahoe was basically the next best thing. Like president Yosemite was stepping down and Vice President Tahoe was takin’ the reigns of our summertime fun. (Advance apologies to every other national park in existence in California)

So, in total there was fourteen of us. My family which is five, peryiappa’s family which was four, and my other uncle in San Jose, was five. Peryiappa had rented a car recently after landing in California, so we had three cars in total. So transportation wouldn’t be a problem.

oR So We ThOuGhT.

THIS WHOLE THING IS JUST ONE BIG SHERLOCK HOLMES DEBACLE ISN’T IT?!

What I thought was going to end in a neat and organized fashion ended up with me wondering whether or not it would be easier if some of us older kids sat in the trunks of our respectable cars. Why?

Okay, let me back up a bit.

When we all decided Pip pip, cheerio, pack your bags everyone we’re going to circle an entire lake and you’re going to like it as it basks in it’s alpine glory. We all decided that we all should meet at my house, since it’s on the way to Lake Tahoe, it would be a quick breather for everyone before we got on the road. And everyone was there, except my uncle, aunt, and younger cousin from San Jose. My other two cousins were there, though. I asked my cousin why her parents weren’t with us, and she said that  her mother had work so they had to stay behind, but she said they would meet us in the house we were all staying at in South Lake Tahoe.

So that left us deprived of three people and a car.

But it was all okay since my peryiappa’s family plus my two cousins managed to all fit in the car peryiappa rented. And my family would be in our own car. So, no problem right?

We all started driving for a while before deciding we should take a break somewhere for a little bit. Now, this is is a major factor for me, mostly because;

I hate long car trips, with a burning passion.

Before all of you hardcore travelers out there attack with your passion for sitting in a hot, stuffy, uncomfortable, car for a prolonged period of time. I have my reasons:

1. I have motion sickness. Nuff’ said.

2. It’s bores me out of my mind.

3. I can never find a comfortable sleeping position.

4. T R A F F I C

Looking over this list, I’m just thinking to myself, “Wow, I sound like such a brat! What has my existence come to?” But, these are all my reasons for hating travel that involves staying in a mobile vehicle for an extended amount of time. And traffic is something I hate with a capital everything. And I’m sure a lot of you can relate.  I know you’re out there, and I feel you. And it’s not that I don’t like traveling. I adore seeing new places and experiencing new things, but when it comes down the form of travel and how long it takes to get to our location, well, I’d much rather stay home or just go to local places, like the library or a nearby store.

Anyway, we went and parked in the shade a parking lot in the center of a bunch of restaurants and stores. Babu peryiappa and the rest of our family came a couple minutes later, my dad pointing to a parking spot right next to our car. But peryiappa decided it would be funny to park in a spot that was one space away from where our car was, which resulted in my dad throwing his hands in the air like What the heck man? While everyone was getting out of the car, my cousin Surya said he would take the car and park it next to ours. After that statement was brought into the air, everyone in peryiappa’s car was rushing to get out. I had to hold back a snort because I mean, c’mon, the guy’s nineteen and has a license, it’s not like the car was going to blowup the minute he put his hands on the steering wheel spy-movie style.

At least I hope not.

Once everyone had safely assumed that we indeed weren’t going to be run over; everyone gathered together as my mom passed out food. I kid you not when I say that she basically hauled the entire kitchen with her. I’m talking Costco sized bags(with that unit of measurement you know that’s a massive quantity)At that point, I’m surprised she hasn’t received a special request from Costco asking her to join their team of super elite packing people of honour who save the world from the horrors of improperly packed goods and accessorizes. And if they do have an actual team like that in Costco, then I honestly don’t even know if I should be amazed or dumb founded.

Anyway, my mom pulled out a bowl of rice, some spinach stew that you eat with the rice, sliced, seasoned, and cooked potatoes, plates, spoons, and more. Everyone who wanted to eat, stood around both cars and ate. I didn’t eat because I wasn’t really up to downing some food at the moment. But I did get to have some purpose with my hands, which was to hold a large glass bowl that held the spinach stew. But I think that was a deplorable decision on my parent’s part, because glass+me=complete disaster. If someone hands me something that’s glass, in my head there are sirens blaring, and it’s screaming

redcardredcardredcardredcardredcardredcardredcardredcard

REDCARD

If you have something that you value, something that has high importance, but is equally fragile

Don’t give it to me.

So I was neck deep in anxiety and was just about ready to put that bowl of stew into someone else’s unsure custody. Finally I was able to do that, and I put it down safely inside the trunk where it hopefully wouldn’t descend into the consolidated void of concrete. Afterwards, it remained uneventful, and when we were all packing up to get back on the road Himani and I made a sound discovery. Our cousin Surya, and Himani’s brother Sanjay, were not there. We looked around everywhere, and by everywhere I mean in and around the perimeter of our two cars. Obviously, Himani did the rational thing and decided to call Sanjay to ask where the two of them went. And of all places they managed to go to, they went to Panda Express. Just the thought of eating food before driving for another hour or two, made my stomach lurch. But no judgement here, food is always a top priority.

Anyways, we were back on the road, and I was obviously not enjoying staying in my seat for such a long time. But I managed not to projectile vomit the whole time, so that was definitely an accomplishment on my part. I don’t think I can say the same for my sister though.

Driving through the Lake Tahoe area and residency spaces is like driving into a completely different state. It felt more like a city with relatively more tree’s, rather than a national park at first. We passed by dozens of stores, shops, hotels, resorts, cinemas, massive houses, grocery stores, fast food restaurants and drive-ins, and basically every amenity you could possibly find in a modern-ish city setting like regular ol’ Sacramento. Except there’s comparatively more wooded area. Also did you guys know that they have an AIRPORT?!

Now that I think about it, it does make sure to have an airport in such a popular tourist destination, since many people come from all around the world to see the lake and to stay, or from out of the state. So that I practical to a certain extent.

Anyway, by the time we arrived at South Lake Tahoe it was around nine at night and pretty dark. We were driving a bit slowly on this dirt path that literally had no lights or anything except one or two street lights placed next to some houses. I couldn’t see much, with it being so late, but I did notice that each house that we passed had different and unique structures and designs. Like styles pillars and boards in the porches, or windows that take up an entire wall. I even saw a house that looked like something straight out of The Hobbit.

Thinking back, it was a little irking to see no one else roaming about, except us. And it didn’t make anyone feel any better that peryiappa’s car was no where to be seen. And didn’t help that he decided to rent a black car. So even if he was driving right beside us, or in front or behind, we wouldn’t have been able to see. The road look abandoned of any else except us, and in all honesty, I don’t think anyone of us knew where our location was.

It was dark(like I said fifty times before, thanks for noticing.)so looking at the numbers on the houses was just a tad bit difficult. But after some minor confusion, some of us almost tipping off into a road rage, and taking a u-turn or two; we finally managed to find where we’re staying, and peryiappa came just in time. Surya, Sanjay, and my dad all got out and looked for the key, and opened the door to the house before coming back out to unload both cars. I got out and looked at the massive house in front of me.

I was tired, I was a little hungry, my eyes were bleary, and I was sore from having my left side completely pressed against my little sister’s car seat. So I might’ve been a little delusional, and had the moral sanity of a plastic bag,  but I clearly remember thinking;

“Wow.”

“This looks like Minecraft!”

From afar, someone would’ve thought the house was a solid wooden block just hanging out in a little neighborhood. But up close, it’s just a big two-story cabin. But still,

It looked like Minecraft.

Anyway, I lugged my backpack and a couple other things inside and just plopped them near a glass coffee table. I looked around, to the left of the entryway, there was a small room that had no lights on, which was home to a black metal bunk bed, and red and white duvets and pillows that classes miraculously with glass(or plastic)art piece, that hung on the wall above, that reminded me of explicitly of microorganisms, or empty cells. I tried turning on the lights by flipping the switch, but even the satisfying click didn’t carry out the expected result.

AKA, the lights didn’t turn on.

I tried clicking it again, and then thrice. But it still didn’t turn on, and this being the first room I walked into, my first impression was

“aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”

My second thought-while internally screaming, was;

“Welllet’sskedaddleoutofherebeforethisroomdecidesit’snotaroomanymoreandinsteadbecomethegatewaytoTartarus.”

It wasn’t that the room had a hostile atmosphere to it, I mean it was small and looked welcoming, but the fact that it had no light and there was a sketchy looking door in the corner in the room didn’t help. But my curiosity got the better of me as I crept into the other side of the room, and twisted the knob and I opened the closet door-half expecting something to jump at me. Luckily nothing did, it seemed to just be another storage closet. Although I was still half convinced that I had just opened the toran to another inter dimensional galaxy,

The house itself had a peculiar floor plan, the living room, kitchen+bathroom, one bedroom, and one coat closet downstairs, along with a fireplace situated between the kitchen and living room. Upstairs there were three bedrooms, if I was to be a bit more accurate, one of the rooms was massive, and seemed to be an entertainment room that was doubly used as a bedroom.  There were three smaller rooms, one with a bunk bed, and one with a queen bed. There were also two bathrooms upstairs which seemed to be convenient seeing as there was so many of us.

I went back downstairs to see what was going on in the kitchen, merely to find that some of my family members were huddled around island, which was overflowing with bags and bags of food, utensils, pans and pots, and snacks. I snuck behind them all to the side where there were open bags of chips, and grabbed one, munching away as everyone fussed over the food. About an hour later, we had all eaten dinner and some of us stayed up to wait for my uncle, aunt, and cousin.

By the time they arrived, it was around eleven, my mother and peryiamma were fussing over my aunt and uncle and gave them some food. I was so tired  and tried my best to make good conversation for a bit before turning in to bed.

つ ◕_◕つ

Interesting Facts

• Lake Tahoe is the largest alpine lake in the United States

• Lake Tahoe is 2/3 in California and 1/3 Nevada.

• Lake Tahoe is 2 million years old

• Because of it’s depth, Lake Tahoe never freezes

• The lake has a volume of 41 trillion gallons of water

• Lake Tahoe is the second deepest lake in the United States, with a depth of 1,645 feet.

P a r t  9

By now, I was used to the Singapore atmosphere; the damp, warm air, the tembusu trees everywhere, the incredible dynamics of the architecture. I had already created a routine for myself in the mornings, which consisted of; waking up, groggy and irritated as per usual, walking over the the heap of suitcases to grab some fresh clothes, my toothbrush, and other toiletries. (technically speaking, doing that while trying to manage not to trip and fall and end up in an ambulance.) I shower and try my best not to end up trapped inside the glass shower that was dangerously close to oxidating terribly. But other than that irritating minority, I loved the compact apartment and what it gave.

I sluggishly got up from the bed, my bare feet brushing against the biting cold of the tile on the floor brushed my soles.

Anyway,  my dad and Jagan Mama probably would have already gone out to grab breakfast for us. Breakfast would usually consist of lots of delicious, steaming dosas(if you don’t know what dosa is, it’s like a savory crépe made of rice and lentils). They also most likely would’ve brought a surplus of chutneys and sambar; and me+chutney= me probably chugging two bottles of water the size of my sister and than ending up with the hiccups for ten minutes. And probably cramping up in the posh bathroom and regretting all my life choices.

My dad, Jagan Mama, and my brother came back around nine or ten with breakfast. I sat down on the cool tile near the bed and waited for my mom to lay out all the floor. I grabbed my little sister and tickled her sides. Her face broke out into a huge smile an laughed uncontrollably as she squirmed around in my lap. My dad scolded me but at that moment I didn’t care with the adorable little munchkin giggling in my lap. Her hair bounced about with each of her movements, the coils each perfectly encircling their predecessors. It reminded me about how all of it was going to be shaved of in a few weeks. I ran my left hand through her soft curls as I ate with my other, thinking over these mandatory cultural actions.

Anyway, that day we were heading back to Mustufa to pick up the watches my dad had set an order for the day before. A couple really nice Casio watches, and a golden Citizen watch for one of my uncles on my dad’s side. We walked down to the forever bustling streets of Singapore, when it had started to rain. Now, the weather seemed reasonable since we had landed in Singapore, calm, and kind of unnerving. Unpredictable in the terms where it didn’t feel like I was being roasted alive. Which was peculiar considering the fact that Singapore is almost directly on the equator. And big ol’ Mr. Sun just loves burning me to a crisp. Jagan Mama went into a nearby shop to purchase an umbrella or two before it started to pour. While we were outside, through my peripheral vision, I saw from the corner of my eye a large vending machine that glowed orange. I walked over, my eyes raking the various buttons and the contents behind the glass.

I expected to see the usual stereotypical selection of soft drinks or chilled bottled waters of different brands; but instead I found round, glistening, stemmed,

oranges.

Freakin’.

oRaNgEs.

I waved my family over as Jagan Mama payed for two umbrellas. I looked over the machine again and read the directions. All you had to do was push a button, and a claw would hand pick one or two oranges to make fresh squeezed oranges, right in the machine. I actually loved this idea so much. Not only is it easier, but its much better for the environment. I read the labeling and it even said the little packaging that holds the orange juice is biodegrade. I think this should be introduced all around the globe because it’s way better than having a bunch of soda cans and plastic bottles littering everywhere and everything.

Plus this is a waaaay better alternative to drinks that are high with sugars and other ingredients you probably don’t even know. Like sodium benzoate or calcium disodium EDTA. What the actual heck even are they!? And some of them just sound straight up terrifying; like Phosphoric Acid. With fresh, raw ingredients; you not only are healthier and cleaner on the inside, but you know what you’re consuming.

I babbled nonstop about my recently acquired knowledge from a vending machine as my poor mother just continued walking along with me. Jagan Mama had bought two umbrellas, one was small and compact enough to stow into a tote or a bag, the other one was Mary Poppins style. No it didn’t have a head of a bird at the end but I think you get the idea. With or without the umbrellas we got wet either way, but I personally enjoyed it.

Ever since I was little I have loved rain.

I hate how rain is always the epitome of sadness or despair in films. The protagonist just hitting an obstacle they think they can’t bare, or hit with news that shadow them in a lurid overcast. A rainy scene that captures gloom and keeps it as captive until the scene switches on.

To some other people I know, rain can be, a burden. A downpour getting into every crevice, dampening anything waiting below. Pooling into holes our dents. Nuisances in every day life. Keep in mind; I am open to all opinions, even if I’m a, as my parents would say, a hothead. But mind you everyone is entitled to their opinions. But rain is probably one of my favorite things in the entire world. To me it’s the waters above serenading everything awaiting below. The drum of the rain on the roof a melody to the rest of the world. Mingling with soils until dampening there rough surface. It is

By the time we had reached Mustufa, the shopping center was already a bit busy. Okay, “busy” is putting it out lightly.

Catastrophically multitudinal is probably the best way to put it. 

We managed to finish purchasing a few more things before we headed out again. We went back to the apartment to relax for a bit before heading out for lunch. My parents said that we were going to be meeting up with Rajendren thatha; one of my mom’s uncles who also lives in Singapore.

(Quick little memorandum, thatha means grandfather)

We walked to a nearby restaurant that served south Indian foods as we were supposed to meet Rajendren thatha there. As we were waiting, I- as I would in multiple situations in a place that I can deem foreign in it’s presence; it was safe to say that I was used to seeing the tropical environment. Including the Rain Trees and the gorgeous Sea Almond trees. Okay those are peculiar names to don on trees but it’s still fascinating.

I looked around and saw a diversity that was different from the aura at home in California. Different faces of different backgrounds, I saw more faces I probably would’ve seen in India, or other Asian countries. I know this sounds confusing, but I kind of have this thing in my mind. Ever since looking into the history of the human race anyway.

Curiouser and curiouser.

There are approximately 7.7 billion people on the planet; seven continents and 195 countries. In 1798 the Federalist Congress passed the Alien and Sedition act which deemed that “willfully utter, print, write, or publish any disloyal, profane, scurrilous, or abusive language about the form of the Government of the United States” or to “willfully urge, incite, or advocate any curtailment of the production” This law also made it harder for immigrants to vote; and gave new powers to deport foreigners.

But then, this law was abolished; the Republican Minority claiming that it violated the First Amendment. And may I remind you that the First Amendment includes the freedom of speech and the press. Sure, America and a number of other countries had their own struggles regarding freedoms; all because of religion, ethnicity, race, gender, civil status. But at the same time, if you think about it-all this is what also brings people together.

Our differences build friendships, relationships, brother and sisterhoods that last longer than life itself. Because of the diversity t of the various areas of the world.

Now, I’ve been doing a bit of digging in the library(when in doubt go to the library; quoting Hermione Granger here)A lot of browsing up and down the aisles; (and embarrassing myself by being unable to reach the books on the higher shelves.) Thus ending up with me sitting at a massive table with various stacks of books in risk of toppling over. And a couple curious looks from passerby or other teens my age or from my school. I’ve had the ability to go to the library more often now so I don’t mean it lightly when I saw I will I take advantage. Most of the time I stay in the the second floor of the library, sitting on two stacked cushions so I could reach the aged wooden table. My feet barely brushing the ground.

There’s a various amount of incredible books that circulate around the topic of the scientific analysis of diversity like

• Diversity: The Invention of a Concept

• The Diversity Delusion

• The Diversity of a New Life: A Preface

From what I’ve read from a number of books and other reading interfaces online; there are three to four types of diversities. All or most applying to both human and animal.

• S p e c i e s  Diversity

• G e n e t i c  Diversity

• E c o s y s t e m  Diversity

• F u n c t i o n a l  Diversity

Species Diversity is basically an ecosystem with a number of different species that thrive together; including common interaction with each other. No species outnumbers the rest, just as no species is scarce. With this common balance this can help regain what was lost in the situation of an ecological threat.  Even is some species eventually cease to exist.

According to scienceing.com Genetic Diversity;

“describes how closely related the members of one species are in a given ecosystem. In simple terms, if all members have many similar genes, the species has low genetic diversity. Because of their small populations, endangered species may have low genetic diversity due to inbreeding.”

Ecosystem Diversity is the variety of different areas or regions. Such as desserts or rain forests in one ecosystem as a whole.  For example a mountain region with dry plains and heavily wooded areas. Thus helping multiple native species to survive at a day to day basis. Usually the case when one portion is threatened or already subdued with damage.

Functional Diversity is the way in which a living organism or species will behave or function, behavior wise. Functional diversity is also the processes or numerous ways in which-said species-will go through to obtain food, and use their own adaptive ways to use the resources provided in their ecosystem.

If you think about, all of this can apply to us in a number of ways.

For example, with Species Diversity it’s a mix of all different cultures, backgrounds, races, genders. Every difference in appearance and motherland. And yet we will still be able to find a way to adjust and adapt. Some better than most but either way, its a connection to one another. Like an invisible string. Thin and frail, and yet lasting longer than anyone thought it would be able.

Genetic Diversity can be correlated to how sometimes specific genders or races will stay together like their own pack like a group of wolves. Or children in a playground, the little girls staying in the shade tying the factitious masses of hair rooted onto the hairs of their dolls. The boys on the other side hollering like premature banshees; each depicting the noises of the various mechanized sounds an automobile would make with there palm sized metal cars.

Ecosystem diversity is kind of hard to describe, in the case of 21st century at least. But it can best be described as the different cultural styles of multiple countries. Take the column, it was originally created by a man in ancient Greece, believed to be Athenian. Now you see columns in banks and other grand buildings or structures that have more architectural intricacy. Like banks or museums. Even the White House, the US Capitol. Both famous buildings of utmost importance in America, donning the architectural brilliance of a man from ancient Greece. Though that isn’t really a way to compare Ecosystem Diversity with ourselves, it’s just a thought.

Finally, functional diversity. This can be a controversial topic depending on who you talk to.  A historian(or my history teacher)would say that this could be in relation to the discrimination of women, slaves, immigrants, etc. But humans have gone through evolution, revolution, and I feel, maybe, a kind of rebirth. In times of war, in the times of dynasties, everyone was at each other’s throats. Everyone was just scared. It was new, so many different faces, of different birthplaces, almost alien to the other. This was the time in our history where everyone felt the same. Scared, broken, confused, fighting for their lives in different ways. In wars, in birth, fighting, helping, healing; dying.

Looking at everything now, my group of friends; all different genders and ethnicity. I look at groups of firefighters and policemen, crowds of people taking up two pages of a magazine. Each a different color pallete, salt and pepper backgrounds shining through the smiles reaching their eyes. The human race has come a long way, in everything. I mean sure everything isn’t picture perfect. There are still conflicts and war. But we’ve come a long way since slavery and discrimination. And we still have a long way to go.

To finish off my pointless tyrannical rant, here’s a pie chart I found of the population percentages of the world. Cause’ if my info isn’t accurate, this chart might as well be.

We finally saw Rajendren Thatha brusquely striding towards us and waving. Embarrassingly enough, when we first encountered him and walked into the restaurant I smiled and greeted him just as he did with me and the rest of us. He had a corpulent mustache and bright eyes just like Bala Thatha. He had a rounded face that shined with each glance at us and immediately initiated conversation. I remember the last time we saw him he seemed more sonorous. But it seemed that he had lost a lot of the weight since that point in time. The conversation mostly hung between my parents and Jagan Mama as we ate. We all had some type of rice based food item like upma or pongal. Upma is basically like a really thick porridge like meal. Pongal is kinda similar except the rice is boiled with other ingredients. I had pongal, which was served in a large plate with some steaming sambar and coconut chutney. I

t was really good but my only problem was the portions they gave us were way to generous. As I continued spooning through my food, it was as if the thick porridge like meal would accumulate. By the time we were finished, I felt like my stomach would detonate and then rupture. At that point my stomach fluids felt almost nonexistent compared to the amount of food in my suffering stomach. We managed to make good time with Rajendren Thatha; I got to know him better and my memory of him from the last time we met him revealed itself with every second spent. We continued talking outside, just as a light sprinkles of rain would make its travel from the Cumulonimbus clouds above to make a drop hit onto our faces, hair, and clothing. We waved a goodbye to Rajendren Thatha as he clambered into his sleek black car, glistening with minuscule water droplets. We decided to make it back to our hotel and rest up for a bit, and walked quickly as not to get caught in the rain.  My little sister clung onto Jagan Mama, careful to wrinkle up his shirt properly. I looked around and smiled, keeping it to myself as I watched my sister giggle, my parents chat with Jagan Mama, and my little brother goofing off just as if would anywhere else in the world.

Hey guys! It’s, it’s been a while hasn’t it? Well sorry this post was, peculiar. Sure I did talk about what we did that day but the whole diversity thing. I feel like it’s an important topic to discuss, specifically because of how fascinating it is to learn about human evolution.

The lights and sounds were never ceasing, pulsing to each of their own rhythms, creating one large masterpiece that may sound like a mix of just miscellaneous noises, but to anyone who truly appreciated human nature, would sound like a composition done by Mozart or Bach themselves. I wanted to twirl in the middle of it all. Dance and jump, skip to my own heartbeat. It made my blood pump faster just looking at the buzz of it all. The zing in the atmosphere never seemed to have an end.

My father and my brother decided to take a little detour and find some fruit and flowers. The flowers, specifically jasmine, are for my mom, my sister, and I to wear in our hair. I still have to figure out the reason for that in our religion so I’ll definitely get back to you guys on that. Sorry for leaving you hanging. My mom, pushing my little sister’s stroller spotted a little shop that was selling bangles and other types of Indian style jewelry, as well as pottus. And if you don’t know what those are, they are basically these dots that women wear on their foreheads. I’m sure you already know what I am getting at here, but my mom always tells me( every time I ask )that the reason it should be placed on our foreheads is because the space between our eyebrows is basically a pressure point for your entire face. I still am doing my own little research on the science behind that so I’ll get back to you guys on that too.

Anyway, my mom said that I can pick three packs of whichever ones I liked, and I honestly didn’t know what to choose. It was a whole wall of little white plastic packages, each sporting their different version or variety of the little trademark dots. I finally decided on these little ones that were all different pale, pastel colors. Thinking I could use them for Halloween or something. I also got a plain regular set, which is basically just the regular old maroon on black, felt circle sticker. My mom already had made her selections so she moved on to the massive crates of glass bangles. A young man and a woman were helping her too. So I followed suit.

I admit, It was kind of awkward when they all turned to me expectantly with these knowing looks in their eyes. I guess they might’ve thought I was the flamboyant type of girl who would be fine flaunting a chunk of glass with glitter on it. They presented me with a white, plastic basket with a spread of colorful glittering bangles that I knew i would be able to break just by looking at them. They were really pretty and looked even more delicate with the shop lights shining on the ceiling opposite of us, making the glitter pop and really catch your attention. But I took a long shot and slowing walked to the spread my mom was looking at before I came along. The shopkeepers asked what colors I like and obviously I said green and blue. They each came up to me with at least a dozen different bangles with various hues of greens and blues. Cerulean, turquoise, I decided on a simple set of bangles that was a mix of both colors. My mom chose a deep red.

We made our purchases and thanked the kindly shopkeepers, turning our bodies back towards the street. My dad and my brother were waiting, my father had a green plastic bag in hand pluming with flowers and fruit to my delight. We decided to walk back to the apartment before it got to late out. But my dad picked up some Idlys for Jagan Mama since we had already eaten at the temple. Plus Bala thatha said he wanted to meet up with us back at the apartment anyway so we kinda had to get a move on.

Singapore was still lively as ever, even late into the night. A spark was lit at Evey part, every corner, ever edge you could see. Everything was so alive. It tingled and pulsed, a slight breeze even. Something rare in Singapore in my opinion. Goosebumps were sent across my skin from each shallow gust. The scene itself reminded me of a song I listen to a lot. The lyrics ran through my head as we all walked along, my sister in my mother’s arms. My brother in step with my father. The song absconded in my mind with each step I took. It happens all the time every time I’m truly absorbed into my surroundings; My conscious is singing, belting out the lyrics. And it’s especially hard to keep quiet. My head started to play the song, the rhythm in time with my steps.

We reached the apartment,  and got into the lift, it felt warm and the air was moist compared to fresh air from outside. My thighs felt sticky with sweat and my pores were basically water bending. Luckily we had already gotten to our floor before I could even finish my thought.

Bala thatha and my parents made small talk while I sat there listening, of course, my brother was playing some game on my dad’s tablet, as per usual. I grabbed my tablet and put it into the charger that was set up on the little black nightstand. My little sister had fallen asleep so I had to make sure she didn’t roll of the little bed. Plus, from personal experience, I didn’t want her to get traumatized by falling of the bed and then ending up face to face with the cob web infested area underneath the bed. And that’s probably one of the reasons why I am absolutely terrified by spiders.

Seeing that I didn’t want my little sister to develop of prevalent phobia at a young age, I grabbed two pillows and stuffed them on either side of my little sister, and maneuvered myself into a sitting position against the headboard so I could keep and eye on the miniature human sleeping beside me. But I have to tell you, to me her facial features are so perfect and proportional I might as well call her a dryad or a nymph.

Ever since we landed in Singapore, Bala Thatha had found so many ways just to be together with us, and support us too. Without him who would’ve picked us up from the airport? Who would always rise to the occasion whenever an opportunity rose to see us? Every time I locked eyes with him, he would always have that amiable smile to greet me. And you know what?

His eyes smile too.

He was one of the first people who helped me rise up when I was hesitant in my first few entries on this blog. I mean I went from two to three paragraph posts to writing prolonged essays basically. Him, my dad, Babu Peryiappa, and Ganesan Mama. Without those four people guiding me two years before, I wouldn’t be writing here, I wouldn’t have the motivation to spark ideas. And of course all my family and those friends that stuck with me all the way.

Eventually he left with words of good nights in the air, and promises of meeting tomorrow. I managed to fall asleep for an hour or two beside my little sister on the bed, but a couple hours later I heard the door unlock and out came Jagan Mama. But I was so tired that I didn’t even have the stamina to wave or simply greet him.  I dropped my head so hard on that pillow I thought my neck was going to snap.

But I was too tired to care at the moment.

The next morning we were planning on going to Mustufa to get some stuff for relatives in India. Like chocolates and sari’s and yada yada yada. So the morning went as it usually would and we were already off around ten am in the morning.

Singapore was so different in the daylight. Everyone had somewhere to go and nothing was scarce of movement, sure. But something about the day and night had such a different impact on everything in such an exotic place. Also, I took the time to really inspect Singapore with open eyes. Just by looking at the plant life you could tell that you aren’t even close to the Americas. The tree’s were more flamboyant, and the leaves more vivid and jagged on the edges. They even smelt enticing. Another thing is definitely the architecture. I am I sucker for peculiar, beautiful architecture and I love reading books about architecture too.

Singapore, obviously isn’t an exception. I mean the towering buildings that glitter even when you are only a few feet away. And there are so many different hot spots that I wanted to see as well. The Garden by the Bay was definitely high up on my list.

Also, I keep this list in my head, and also written out in my tablet and its basically a list of all the different states and countries I want to go to. Along with their national libraries. Like the National Library of France, or the one right there in Singapore. And I have seen pictures online of like, the best libraries in the CONTINENT. And most are basically scattered across the globe. And I have this dream of just traveling to all those places and visiting their libraries and bookstores. As well as admire the best architectural wonders.

Yeah, I know, blame me all you want for geeking out on you guys but you really can’t blame me. Books have intoxicated me in the best way humanly possible. PERIOD.

N o   a r g u m e n t.

Also, the architectural wonders are literally man made phenomenons and you have to see em’ to believe em’. I mean look at this;

and this:

HOW DOES THIS EVEN EXIST

Oh my gods I just got really off topic the past few paragraphs. Sorry sorry.

Anyway, Mustufa was, -and interesting experience.

Walking into there I instantly recognized the vast space, the entry area greeting us with rows and rows with cases sporting watches. The air conditioning hit me like a slap to the face and my body’s initial reaction was to disperse goosebumps across my outer arms and collarbone. My parents had to make a couple purchases on that floor anyway, therefore I kinda just, broke apart from my family, staying back a couple of feet actually. I wandered and looked at the overwhelming variety of wristwatches, clinquat under the lights of the area.

I liked to think that each one, and mind you there were thousands of them, that each and every accessory had it’s own little physical personality to the wearer as a counterpart. Each face embellished in gold, or simply alloy or another light metal. Some with surfaces so small you would need to squint to see the numerals that were probably scrawled on with a microscopic brush and ink. Others with integers so large you would be able to tell the time from a mile away. Some were colorful and fun, whilst others had a sense of simplicity yet elegance. Like the two different halves of the brain. One flamboyant, the other coherent and reasonable. I inspected each one, my brows furrowed, I pulled a classic Cheshire Cat smile just to see my ditzy looking face in the gleaming glass cases. I am to much of a dweeb for my own good.

So that went on for a solid fifteen minutes or so. I meant my family and I staring at watches and stuff, not me pulling stupid faces and looking at my self into the glass like a deranged, mad perso- you know what it doesn’t matter.

Next we rode the escalator to the floor above to select sari’s to take to India. But that moment was when I realized that I was in for the long run. The instant we stepped off that platform, I saw rows and of different fabrics. Cotton, silk, velvet, rolls and folds, stacks, piles. It was like stepping inside one of those random drawings my little sister does whenever I draw. Her plump little fist clutching the various crayons or pencils, individually or all at once. She grips them like they’ll run away for dear life and let me tell you. I don’t blame them. Bursts of color, miscellaneous and at random. It was overpowering but I realized it was going to take more than half of an hour for my mother to make her selections. Therefore the one thing running in my head was;

nopenopenopenopenopitynope

This wasn’t going to end for a while.

HELLO TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD. Sorry I just felt like saying that at one point on the internet. AND I FINALLY DID. Yay me! Anyway, school started a couple weeks ago and, well. You know how that goes. I’m officially in eight grade now! Yeah. the top dogs of middle school. The veterans of sixth and seventh grade. Until we hit high school of course. Cause then it’s the cycle all over again. I have already been doused with homework and side projects already. So its no picnic but I’m holding together, as I should be. Sorry this post is kinda short because I’m planning on creating a bigger emphasis on my next post. I’ll try to make my work more frequent, and most likely post some of my latest pieces that I drew. I did quite a few in India and Singapore, and a couple when we got back to good old California, so you are in for a treat.

Also, I have been reading over the viewing statistics on my dashboard and over five hundred people have read “All the Way Home” a post I did a while back. That is INSANE.

Absolutely INSANE.

Oh my gosh, I never, I really never thought I would have that many people read my blog. Especially a post that really mattered to me. I mean, I am just a girl, a naive thirteen year old, and I have so many things I want to say that I want to get out. And the fact that people actually want to listen is what truly shocks me. I’m serious, when I saw that over five hundred people read that one post I almost broke down and sobbed. I was so overwhelmed. So much kindness, that I feel I don’t deserve. I’m no one special and yet here we are. I’m only thirteen and I have been at this blog since the sixth grade. This really makes me feel like I have a voice, even when I speak out I waver.

So all I want to say is thank you. I know it’s spontaneous, but I just am so grateful to all of you. Just for reading. It makes my heart feel whole and my soul glow. So, yeah that’s all I wanted to say. For now of course. And I just want to say one more thing.

We are all colorful, our blood, our veins, we are flamboyant. We decide if we want to see the rest of the world in black and white.

disclaimer: this post is not sponsored by talking diapers.

I woke up the next morning, I was groggy, and I couldn’t think straight. My body was still sore and my ankles hurt like heck. I had no intention of getting up. But my brain thought otherwise. I was pumped to started the day but my body just screamed  S L E E P. Okay, that sounded like I got possessed or something but you get the point. I was so confused with the time zones and everything, I mean in California it was night, obviously, but here in good ol’ Singapore, it was four a.m. in the morning. Oh yay! The angst is wonderful isn’t it?! I looked over at my little sister who was beside me on the bed. All you could see was a mop of black curls, as if it was a being itself. Her back moved slightly with ever breathe. She was so peaceful in her sleep. The little furrow of her brow gone, her mouth slightly open showing little rows of teeth. I always kind of envy babies. Not a care in the world, no one judges you. Someone does all the worrying for you.

I slowly got out of bed, pushing the wool covers that twisted around my legs. I sat up straight, swinging my legs to the other side of the bed, my hand trying to tame my bedhead, which itself looked dangerously close to being identical to any natural disaster. I looked around the apartment, my mom was sleeping next to my sister, her own curls blocking her face. Ever since they shaved my head when I was a baby, I guess the roots of those curls got lost or something. Which is kind of sad for me because I actually adore curly hair. But I don’t think it would look that decent on me, sad as it is, its true. Anyway, Jagan Mama was sleeping on the pull out bed, My little brother beside him. My dad was on his laptop, sitting flat on the ground, the laptop illuminating the window and the wall behind him. His face looked ghostly in the light of the screen as they danced along the wall. I slowly got up and went through my usual routine.

An hour or so later we were all showered and eating breakfast. Jagan Mama and my dad having plans on going to Mustufa later that day to buy some stuff. And if I haven’t mentioned before, Mustufa is basically this   m a s s i v e   shopping center that runs for twenty-four hours. It’s a center where you can get anything you need, whether it’s clothing, medicines, makeup items, tech, shoes, jewelry, food, and even an entire section devoted to souvenirs. Sidenote, it was established in 1995 and it’s four hundred thousand square feet, and their apparently still adding more. Which I find totally INSANE, I mean the architecture is already perfect, and isn’t four floors enough? I just hope they don’t make it as big as an IKEA. Mustufa is big enough okay, and walking around for two hours, on the same floor is already tiring enough thank you very much. I mean I don’t think there’s any point in getting  a super expensive, deluxe gym membership or something. If your in Singapore you could just waltz on over to good old Mustafa and walk around for a good two our three hours. You can get your shopping done and burn a few calories.

The day went as expected. Jagan mama went to work a while later, and then my entire family did something so obvious, so forseeable, so expected. I almost  didn’t even end up caring at that point.

They all fell asleep,

My parents, my sister, even my little brother. I was literally the only one awake and it was pretty sad. See, jet lag doesn’t last long for me, two or three days max. I usually just try not to keep my eyes closed to long. I can’t let myself sink into the welcoming arms of sleep, especially when I was in a state in which it would end badly for me either way. I distract myself. Mostly draw actually. It’s the only thing that can keep me completely inattentive to my own bodies needs. In your ears, it probably might sound like the worst possible thing to do, in any situation, when your body needs you the most.

But I,  particularly, think it’s the best the in the whole of the world.

I can plunge into an entirely different atmosphere in my mind. All other thoughts are blurred, like a camera. My occipital lobe the shutter view, my brain’s frontal lobe the focus lens, the cerebellum the viewfinder. My brain stem what connects to it all. This isn’t real science, don’t think it is, but it is my mind. Everyone has a different conception in the way they overlook life. Ours brain are similar in anatomy, yes, but in the deepest depths. No one, is similar.

Our brains, our minds, are just as individual of our body itself. No way I can make it anymore obvious than it already is. You can be the most neat and organized person in the world. But your mind might not be the same. It might constantly be itching for an imperfection, your mind to embody your lifestyle. Or it can be the complete opposite. Your mind can be as fierce as an untamed wolf, prowling the forest, as adamant as a thunderstorm crackling the sky. As calm as the waves yet callous as the jagged edges of boulders, buried deep in the grains of sands. You can be as curious as the stars twinkling under the caresses of moonlight. You can be everything, and all at once. All elements of the world wrapped into a person, bursting with emotion.

My only focus was the white of the paper and the ink of the pen, staining, marking, blazing fire onto the white of the sheet. But even two to three hours of drawing couldn’t keep my stamina skyward. My eyelids drooped dangerously low, my brain’s was losing it’s zing real fast. I tried keeping my guard up but it wasn’t working that well. One look at everyone else sleeping, breathe steady, heads swimming with dreams. I was a hopeless sack of failed determination.

I woke up, everyone else awake long before I was. Drool was running down my chin, my face burned as I wiped it away with the back of my hand. My hair was mussed up, my legs were sore from sleeping in such an abnormal position. My dad was on his laptop, as per usual on his down time. My mom was fussing with Thulasi, my brother playing some game on my dad’s IPad. I noticed mine was on the ground, the keyboard part of the protectant splayed flat on the ground. I closed it and tucked it away into my backpack, scooping my little sister up as she cooed. I scanned the room and noticed three slim boxes sitting next to the sink, looking like the Twilight Zone versions of a classic milk carton. The top of the fridge had a new addition along with the bottles of water we had bought yesterday, donned shining new bottles. Along with a bright green plastic bag filled until it sagged with packages of snacks and biscuits. We figured that Jagan Mama had left them before going back to work. And he did.

Showing that he cares in the most simplest ways.

Such a subtle person yet, so much love and care, constantly pumping through in his veins. Forget pride. This is better.

My parents were planning on going to the Veera Kaali Amman Kovil( Kovil means temple in Tamil)tonight. I had written about it on the posts I did a while back from the last time we were in Singapore. The beautiful architecture is unforgettable so when my parents mentioned it I knew instantly. The swooping pillars, the intricate design. The smell of castor oil that infiltrated my nose, the rose petals real enough to touch, yet deceiving with that wanting. We got ready quickly but as we did thoughts came running into my mind, like a dam with a leak that hasn’t been patched quite just yet. Or with any intention to do so.

I want to make something that will stand for centuries, all can see. It will stand longer than I. History’s eyes can be directed towards you whenever you would like to. You need the grit, the determination, the persistence, the esteem. I think you can make it happen. Doesn’t matter how old, how young. Doesn’t matter what religion, what race. Nothing matters. You got the passion. Use it. I tend to underestimate that fact, and I end up regretting it when I lose the chance. Like when you go and catch fireflies. You’re lucky enough to catch them in your grasp, the twinkle of their light a fascination yet a peculiarity of the universe. Having the grip of a fluid resumption, even looking away for a second, loosening the clenching of your palms. The curiosity building up. And just as quick as it landed, it flittered away, your simple movement was taken as a quickly detained sign of danger.

Don’t take this as an excuse to go around catching bugs and practically giving them heart attacks- no, that’s not exactly what I planned my dramatic, super inspirational, definitely cliche, portion of this blog post to be.

Well, mostly anyway.

We decided to walk, seeing as that was easier, plus we could maybe stroll through the markets later on as well. I had to remind myself constantly in my head to walk on the left side instead of the right, like in the U. S.. Or maybe I have it the other way around. . .

Whatever.

The city was alive, bumbling with busy street vendors, people glowing in the gleam of the lights of the street. I walked behind my brother and my dad. Thulasi bouncing with every step my father took, with her in his arms. My mom talked beside me. I was mostly silent because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from everything around me.

I noticed, for a long time, that nothing in the city is still. Anywhere in the world, wherever there’s even just a patch of towering metal and glass, no movement will be stopped. Nothing is motionless. There is always a constant, a light is flickering, a person is sprinting by, most likely with a frantic situation in their hands. A couple chatting along, indulging in the other’s presence, oblivious to the rest of the world. A couple of birds, high up in the ledges of buildings, their beaks crooked as they stabilize themselves on the crevices. I

It didn’t feel like long before we were already there. It was impossible to ignore, and it is very obvious, to anyone passing by, that they were in the presence of a place that is sacred and alluring. The atmosphere itself changed the instant we stepped close to the entrance. The musky scent of natural herbs and tree fragrances felt so comforting, like I was being wrapped into a soft blanket, protected from the rest of the world. It was the smell of all the temples I and my family go to. It’s one of my favorite scents aside from new, fresh books. It feels so different from any of the usual things I would normally smell at home. Spices from my mom cooking, or some essential oil going through this little machine we have, it ejects the fragrance to the rest of the house. But this is always something wonderful and different to me. Yes my mom even puts it in our house too, so I’m not unfamiliar with the scent. But,

it always smells like home.

We walked in, and the first thing I noticed was the intricate designs in the walls, the ceilings, the pillars. Bursts of roseate and beryl greens. I wanted to run my fingers along the swirls and plunging dips the paintbrush left, from it’s stone canvas. The stone looked aged, as well as the paint and the deep carvings, yet, like many things in life, it was made even more beautiful. Age before beauty as they say. But no one said they both couldn’t create one captivating wonder.

The place practically was pulsing with this ambience that I knew everyone in the room could feel. The oil under our feet, the smooth, yet granular stone. Looking at the different deities left me with different prayers flowing in my head. One rocketing towards each designated god or goddess. My mother always reminds me to do so every time we’re in a temple. So, I do, because I have many things to thanks the people in the heavens above.

Thank you for good health for my family, for myself.

Thank you for safely landing us here in gorgeous Singapore.

Thank you for all the simple things too.

I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

Please, for the sake of the eighth grade and my high school GPA, let my grades not slip into a close failing grade. Or any failing grade at all.

Thank you for the good health of my dear relatives.

Also sorry for my very unformal grammar.

Uuh, bye for now?

I can’t tell you if those were my exact words at the time. I know for sure though, that they were along those line.

We visited each area, designated to a specific god. Also, a side note, I am really scared that I’m describing something wrong here. I’m no expert on this kinda stuff. I just know the basics I need to know so I don’t make myself a fool in front of anyone else. I’ve done that plenty of times beforehand so most of the time I try to keep my mouth shut.

Like any given day, my parents were pointing out the different deities and their names, as well as what their roles were. But I admit, I zoned out a little bit because it was three years since I had been here. I had the right to look around. We decided that we should head out and get some prasadam. And that is another word added to the other vocabulary I listed. Prasadam, is basically the food offered to the gods as a way of showing devotion and respect. Mainly, from what I have seen in my length of remembrance, they mainly give sweets or some kind of rice. Well, at least from my perspective it is. Anyway, first we saw a woman near one of the opulent statues, she was passing out on of my favorite Indian sweets, one everyone new I absolutely couldn’t resist. like if there’s a plate with twenty of those little balls of gold, they will be gone in under two minutes. Ask anyone. My mom, my dad, any female member of my family.

But then I end up with severe stomach aches and cramps

BUT I HAVE NO REGRETS

okay maybe a little but ya know we can get over that easily.

right?!

Anyway, I grabbed two, one from my mom since she was holding my little sis. I may have grabbed an extra one for myself but we aren’t gonna talk about that right now. We decided to tuck them into a napkin so they wouldn’t crumble in our hands. Soon enough my dad found a place that was serving curd rice in brown paper. Everyone in my family already got some so they were already heading into the the hall to eat. I was the last one to get a serving so I greeted the woman with her daughter standing on the table.

She was wearing this adorable little purple dress that sparkled in the moonlight. Smiling brightly, she handed me a brown wax paper and the woman who was her mother, gave me a spoonful bigger than my face. I tried to tell her that I didn’t need anymore and I thanked her to, in really choppy, awful Tamil, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She dipped her scoop into her pail filled with the warm, gooey, substance and gave me another serving that was only slightly smaller than the previous one. I thanked her and waved a little goodbye to the little girl who gave me the paper. She giggled with delight, giving me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. I shot a smile to her mom and she beamed back at me before both of them started to tend to another person. I walked off to the dining hall they had and sat cross legged on the floor along with my parents.

I knew in my gut that it was going to take me more than twenty minutes to finish the entire portion I was given. But I stomached everything anyway. It was a good thing it was really good. I made a decision that night, that if I ate anything more, my stomach will not hesitate to bring up everything I ate, and re acquaint it to the outside world.

We left the temple with full stomachs and feeling a new vigor, walking along before we decided to do a little exploring. We decided to look through some of the street markets and stuff too. And boy was walking through Little India a whole other experience at night. It was bustling with people. If the moonlight wasn’t enough, there were colorful signs, streetlights, any kind of form of electrical lighting you could imagine. My dad and brother went of somewhere to get fruit and flowers. My mom and I found this little shop that was selling bangles.

and that is an adventure for the next post.

Just you wait.