Nashville - Day Five

Dear Friends,

This afternoon, once my buddy's buddies left for the airport, we hit the Honky Tonk district, again! But, the scene had changed generations and with it, genre of music. Or perhaps it was just another Saturday. Luckily, we had tickets to Opry at the Ryman.

From the politically charged opera, There Is Hope, in which even pops were not safe, we landed on bluegrass, where God remained on stage the whole time. The show did not leave us wanting more, but sitting on original pews where generations of church goers and music lovers had sat before us, overwhelmed me. The past was indeed present. 

We returned to Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar. No Blues, no Boogie! The Saturday-night band played my dance club songs - alas, I was out with the wrong friend! I didn't get to kick up my heels, but I had my first Jello Shot!

Nashville

Dear Friends,
For once in my life, I have no complaints! I'm documenting this rare and surely fleeting moment by publishing an entry, though I have no new insights to share.
I am a firm believer in cosmic signs. Not only I've trained myself to interpret them, to my advantage of course, but I've also learnt to follow the paths that universe opens up before me, without reservation.
Thus, way back in September, when an old bestie advertised for a companion, to attend Roger Waters' opera with her, I jumped at the chance to check off Nashville from my bucket list!

Jeggings? check!
High-heel suede boots? Check!
Beautification? Check, check, and check!

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to Nashville this afternoon I go! Of course, being the kind of person that I am (eternal optimist), I'm already fantasizing about running into Blake Shelton, or better yet, meeting a handsome cowboy whose, Howdy M'am, will make my heart skip a beat!

Sleepless in Toronto, Caffeinated!

Dear Friends,
I think back in May, I was more thrilled to have a retirement party than to retire! Although my body was run-down, in need of rest and relaxation, my mind and my emotions were elsewhere. I wasn't sad to retire, but then, I wasn't as happy as I should've been either. The state of retirement was flat.

Leaving my old school felt like leaving home, bitter-sweet, but completing my longterm substitute assignment feels more like, hooray, I don't have to wake up at five in the morning anymore! 

The overdue ecstasy arrived yesterday, precisely at five o'clock in the afternoon. As I entered a Starbucks, it suddenly dawned on me that I didn't need to worry about falling asleep on time, anymore. 

The caffeinated beverage, leading to a late protein-packed dinner followed by a midnight trip to the grocery store and a chick flick on TV, marked my freedom! Hooray, I'm retired! 

Perhaps, some of us should leave home first, retire next!

Love on Ice

Dear Friends,

As the second shot of tequila hits my senses, I can't help but feel amorous. It would be nice, I muse while cutting the red pepper into small cubes, to have someone put his arms around me and ask a silly question like, whatchadoin? 

I'm not sure wether it's the cold temperatures outside, Charles Aznavour's sensuous voice inside, or the place-setting for one, on a Saturday night, that makes me think of my ex-lover. I liked him liking to watch me cook, while sipping wine. I shall befriend him on Facebook again, I say aloud, as I start chopping the kale. He was my dream guy, physically. Tall, slim, with penetrating blue eyes, long strawberry-blond hair and a boyish smile. Unfortunately, in every other way, he was a jerk. 
Before I have a chance to rebuke my wandering mind, I run the knife across my perfectly shaped red nail! I stand there in horror, that could've been my finger! The universe has spoken! Even thinking about him is catastrophic! I reach for the bottle, reflecting on what one of the guys at the Pub, said to me last week. "You can't settle down in one place because you haven't found the right guy yet!" Spoken like a true man, I thought — then. Now, I only need one more shot of tequila to take me from amorous to oblivious!  

Dilemma

Dear Friends,
As I'm watching the world unite in France, to mourn the victims of recent violent attacks, and march  against terrorism, I'm struggling with my own petty emotions. My mother lives in the heart of Paris, alone - I'm worried about her wellbeing. I'm a born muslim who fled her country shortly after the islamic revolution — there is no love lost between me and that religion. As the Canadian press releases the names of homegrown terrorists, I worry about my own safety and that of my children and grandchildren. I'm also a woman who despises patriarch societies, believes in freedom and equality. But, above all, I'm a teacher. Every day, I spend a good portion of my time and energy settling disputes amongst my students, referring them to RESPECT, a virtue that our education system believes in.
"You shouldn't tease, put down or make fun of someone's appearance, name, clothes, food, traditions or parents." I hear myself teach compassion and acceptance to six-year-olds who can't really understand why they should filter their opinions and not call another six-year-old fat, ugly or stupid.
I'm not passing judgement, or being facetious when I ask, shall I just let them be? Shall I just save my sanity and let them express their opinions freely?

For the Love of Juggling

Dear Friends,
For some people, having a good time, means letting go. For me, experiencing empowerment, is the essence of pleasure. From the barstool and the dance floor, where I defy my culture, to the subway stairs, classroom and boutiques, where I test my physical, intellectual or financial strength, the sense of achievement is the sole carrier of feel good hormones. As much as having new adventures can be exhilarating, revisiting old places and activities that brought me joy and confidence, is not without merit. When I reviewed the list of "what makes me tick these days," I realized that inadvertently, I had included my past in my future. 
Although at sixteen I grossly lacked in wisdom and focus, I remember taking the train between Swiss towns, without a chaperon, gave me the illusion of being in charge of my destiny. Hence, weekly commute to and from Toronto made the "continue" column. 
Taking a course in Russian literature, will serve two purposes; returning to University of Toronto, (did I ever feel intelligent, rushing from one class to another, in my thirties), and reconnecting with Mother Russia, where I spent my formative years.  
Although sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I'm not sure in which bed I am, I believe I was born to live two lives, simultaneously! It is a very strange realization since, last year, I was hardly able to keep together one life. Besides cleaning up at arrivals, and tiding up at departures, I also have two sets of laundry to do, two sets of bills to pay, two fridges and pantries to fill, and most importantly, two sets of keys to worry about! As much as forgetting the perfect accessory on occasions, devastates me, I'm finding my multifaceted life very fulfilling. I always knew that I had a broad range of interests, what I didn't know was that I also have multiple personalities. As I literally travel between two lifestyles, I find myself less stressed, more focused and much happier! 
Major misdiagnosis! I was not overwhelmed, I was underwhelmed!