Define Perfect. . . .

"At 16, I knew what perfect meant. After all, I had read the definition in the Encarta Dictionary -- and it surely mirrored my perfect life which was simply:

without faults
complete and whole
excellent or ideal




How was my life perfect? I had a large group of friends and never knew the meaning of the word lonely. I was an editor in our school's paper, a very sought-after position. My sister had married, leaving me the heiress to boss around the other kids at home. My school was putting on a big production that I desperately wanted to star in. I knew my chances were good. I lived in a blissful fairytale world. Others thought my life was ideal and so did I. That was five years ago.
And then one morning, the perfect bubble burst while sitting at school in my 11th grade class. I found bumps in my neck. Suddenly, I was in a cold new world of tests and scans and hushed whispers about cancer. I wasn't the Jewish princess of my own comfy palace now; I was imprisoned by a stark new reality, light years from where I'd basked just a day before.
My perfect life was beyond flawed, defiled by tumors spreading in my body, scarred by the chemotherapy and loss of hair, and blemished by my loss of dignity and self-image.
Everything I thought important was gone. I was too weak to go to school, or even have friends come over and visit. I was too depressed to smile and socialize on their level. I gave up my job on the school paper, and my older sister practically lived in my house again, maintaining it while my parents were busy with me. My aspirations to star in the school play faded into the blackness of my perfect past.
There were nights when I stayed up crying, unwilling to accept this cruel joke of fate, the game Someone seemed to be playing with my life. How could it be that I had it all, and then in one frightful morning, all was nothing?
What hurt most was my new perception of myself as imperfect. People's comments and faces made it clear that I was not like them, but I knew it in my heart, even without others spelling it out for me.
So many things worried me during that time. What of my health in the future? Would I ever be really well again? What of my ability to have children of my own? What would happen when it came time for shidduchim and dating? Who would want to get involved with a damaged, less-than-perfect girl like me?
After the hurt, there came the anger. It was one thing if I had done something to mess up my own life. It was quite another to have it all done for me and not have any say in the matter at all. I was hurt and furious with the One who had done this. I had a million questions -- and no answers.
And then one day, I sort of slapped myself upside the head. It was a much-needed ouch -- like someone had pinching me out of a self-induced slumber. I cleared away the mental cobwebs of remorse and self-pity and discovered that, while my circumstances were still the same, suddenly I wasn't.
I made a conscious decision to stop measuring everything by the yardstick of a false perfection. I dug out my school dictionary, crossed out some of the definitions there, and added one of my own.
"Perfect is a state of mind," I scribbled, pushing my pen hard into the thin paper of the book, "flaws are what we perceive them to be and one can still see something defective as being truly wonderful."
It was an awkward, amateur definition at best, but it changed the meaning of my existence.
Slowly, I came to understand that a perfect day could be the day I had fun with my nurses. A great afternoon was one in which I had enough strength to go outside for a bit. All was right in the world when I got a free day off chemo to go to school. I got to buy an entire new wardrobe after going down a few sizes on chemo, and well, that was perfect too!
It was a strange new perfect, so far from that old fairyland, but I grew up enough to know that fairylands aren't real. If I insisted on living in the palace, I had to deal with the knights and the drawbridges and the moat and the King.
My King was One who had a much larger vision of what the perfect life for me could be. Once, I was content to live as a regular high school kid, but when I looked for and found Him right next to me during that trying time in my life, He let me glimpse a small bit of a greater "perfect" than I had ever dreamed of. I once thought my life was a piece of fabric, but the Almighty showed me that His plan was more like a tapestry. I was only a tiny thread in its embroidered image.
I was growing and changing and evolving as a person. Maybe people saw me as flawed, and maybe I was. All I knew was that God was creating a different version of me that would be perfect for the plan He had for the rest of my life.
Thinking back to the time when I thought my 16-year old life perfect, I know that it was like smiling blindly into a crowd. I was on stage and enjoying every minute of it, but had no idea what it was that I was really doing there. When I had to search for a new meaning to the word perfect, I suddenly saw the faces in the audience, watching me intently for my next move. I reached out to God and found Him already holding my hand. He was standing right up there on stage with me, nodding proudly as I acted my part in His production of my life.
I never thought I needed God with me when my life was going so well. I guess I deserved that wake up call so that I could find a better way of living and recognizing His presence every day.
The other kids I did chemo with thought their lives were ruined forever while I knew mine was just beginning.
That beginning led me to meet the man that would become my husband somewhere down the new road in my life. Divine Providence brought him right to my door. Literally. I met my husband when I was 16 and still trying to find the new meaning of perfect. He joined my quest as he drove me to doctors' appointments and together we discovered that we could create our own perfect world.
And we did. We realized that being healthy and happy was more perfect and important than anything. We understood that if other people didn't want to see what our version of reality was, it was just fine, because it meant more for us! We learned that we each had our past problems; we each had our custom-made mail shirts and helmets that protected us from the rest of the world, but that made us perfect for each other.
The day we learned we could have a healthy baby was the most perfect day of my life until the day he was actually born. When I held him for the first time and kissed his little face, I knew that right then nothing was ever going to get me any closer to perfect. Living with him each day, seeing him smile and grow has added many perfect days to the growing pile.
Today the fabric of my life still sports some rips and tears -- like all of us. But over time, I have discovered that it is through these very tears that God's powerful light comes shining through. He's the Master Weaver and He sets the quality standards. So while my silken life might not appear 100% flawless, that's okay. Today it's all really perfect to me."

The Teacup

There was a couple who used to go England to shop in a beautiful antique
store. This trip was to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. They both
liked antiques and pottery, and especially tea-cups.
Spotting an exceptional cup, they asked, "May we see that? We've never seen
a cup quite so beautiful."
The lady handed it to them and suddenly the tea-cup spoke, "You don't
understand" It said, "I have not always been a tea-cup. There was a time
when I was just a lump of blue clay. My master took me and rolled me,
pounded and patted me over and over and I yelled out...Don't do that! I
don't like it! Leave me alone." But, he only smiled and gently said; "Not
yet!!"
Then...WHAM! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around
and around and around. Stop it ! I'm getting so dizzy! I'm going to be
sick!', I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, quietly; 'Not yet.'

He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself
and then...... Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I yelled
and knocked and pounded at the door. "Help! Get me out of here!" I could see
him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from
side to side, 'Not yet'.
"When I thought I couldn't bear it another minute, the door opened. He
carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. Oh, that
felt so good! "Ah, this is much better," I thought. But, after I cooled he
picked me up and he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were
horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Oh, please; Stop it, Stop it!!' I cried.
He only shook his head and said. 'Not yet!'.
Then suddenly he put me back in to the oven. Only it was not like the first
one. This was twice as hot and I just knew I would suffocate. I begged. I
pleaded. I screamed. I cried. I was convinced I would never make it. I was
ready to give up. Just then the door opened and he took me out and again
placed me on the shelf, where I cooled and waited and waited, wondering
"What's he going to do to me next?"
An hour later he handed me a mirror and said 'Look at yourself.' And I did.
I said, "That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful!"
Quietly he spoke: "I want you to remember, then," he said, I know it hurt
to be rolled and pounded and patted, but had I just left you alone, you'd
have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if
I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I know it hurt and it was hot and
disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have
cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over,
but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened. You would not have
had any color in your life. If I hadn't put you back in that second oven,
you wouldn't have survived for long because the hardness would not have
held. Now you are a finished product. Now you are what I had in mind when I
first began with you."
The moral of this story is this: G-d knows what He's doing (for each of us).
He is the potter, and we are His clay. He will mold us and make us, and
expose us to just enough pressures of just the right kinds that we may be
made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing and perfect
will. So, when life seems hard, and you are being pounded and patted and
pushed almost beyond endurance; when your world seems to be spinning out of
control; when you feel like you are in a fiery furnace of trials; try
this.... Brew a cup of of your favorite tea in your prettiest tea cup, sit
down and think on this story and then, have a little talk with the Potter.

Before I came to college, I wish I had known . . .

That it didn't matter how late I scheduled my first class; I'd still sleep through it.

That I could change so much and barely realize it.

That you can love a lot of different people in a lot of different ways.

That if you wear polyester, everyone will ask you why you're so dressed up.

That every clock on campus shows a different time.

That if you were smart in high school, so what?

That I would go to a party the night before a final.

That labs take up more time than all my other classes put together.

That you can know everything and still fail a test.

That I could get used to anything I found out about my roommate.

That home is a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

That a lot of my education would be obtained outside of class.

That friendship is more important than getting drunk together.

That I would become one of those people my parents warned me about.

That free food until 10 really closes at 9:50.

That Sunday is a figment of the world's imagination.

That psychology is really biology.

That biology is really chemistry.

That chemistry is really physics.

That physics is really math.

That my parents would get smarter as I got older.

That it is possible to be alone, even when you are surrounded by friends.

That friends are what make this place worthwhile.

That a goodbye is necessary before we can meet again.

That meeting again is certain among friends.

 Life's Tug of War

Life can seem ungrateful ~ and not always kind...
Life can pull at your heartstrings ~ and play with your mind....
Life can be blissful ~ and happy and free...
Life can put beauty ~ in the things that you see ...
Life can place challenges ~ right at your feet...
Life can make good ~ of the hardships we meet...
Life can overwhelm you ~ and make your head spin...
Life can reward those ~ determined to win...
Life can be hurtful ~ and not always fair...
Life can surround you ~ with people who care ...
Life clearly does offer ~ its Up and its Downs...
Life's days can bring you ~ both smiles and frowns...
Life teaches us to take ~ the good with the bad...
Life is a mixture ~ of happy and sad...
SO
Take the Life that you have ~ and give it your best...
Think positive, be happy ~ let God do the rest...
Take the challenges that life ~ has laid at your feet...
Take pride and be thankful ~ for each one you meet...
To yourself give forgiveness ~ if you stumble and fall...
Take each day that is dealt you ~ and give it your all...
Take the love that you're given ~ and return it with care...
Have faith that when needed ~ it will always be there...
Take time to find the beauty ~ in the things that you see...
Take life's simple pleasures ~ let them set your heart free....
The idea here is simply ~ to even the score
As you are met and faced with ~ Life's Tug of War

First Decade…A 

Toddler Dream !

One of the Character in Merchant of Venice, a play by Shakespeare said, "World is a stage and everyone has a part to play, mine is the sad one". If its said for Mr. Lemon, the dialogue goes "World is a stage and everyone has a part to play, mine is the lemon one". he he he....that was really a bad one. Jokes apart, the thing is Mr.Lemon is completing 2 and half decade of existence in this planet of apes....ups human this Wednesday. So to celebrate i thought lets review the first 25 years of life and see how the things were, and let me prepare for next twenty five years...What say ? good idea...So for this detail review i have split my life into two and half decade. The First decade of a toddler one, the second decade of a teenager boy and half decade of a mature man (thought i still find myself existing between first and second....what you think?)

Initial day in my life, was pretty good, infact fantastic...enjoyed a lot as being the only child. Whole focus of my parents was garner by me. Being very sweet, very silent (still am), very shy i was an introvert person drastically living with in myself. One thing that went terribly wrong in the first decade was i attracted myself towards getting hurted. I had seven small and big incident s of cut, slide, fall with 3-4 stitches near my eyes, hand , head, etc in first eight year despite being a very sidha sadha bacha. I am still wondering who said "Mard ko Dard ahi hota"! I feel it was just like bournivita to make me more strong,  I used to have bournvita and i still have.....

I was deeply involved in drawing, learning keyboard, Skating but was only successful in the last one after loosing my front tooth..I finally stood 4th at district skating champion and am still proud of it. One thing which I did passionately was playing and following cricket. One of the dream was to play for my country but eventually end playing at least for my class and my apartment teams. 

In the first decade i started my school, made some really sweet friends and started my journey of being myself. The only problem which i had even i childhood days i use to do what others feel boring. I still like to do things against the wind, some times i feel myself a kite who just swing in the air against the wind or as a small ship sailing against the sea. In short first ten years of my life was just like every other toddler with some humpty dumpty accident but eventually ending up being parents twinkle twinkle little star.

The 27s :  The Greatest Myth of Rock & Roll

Club 27: The price of Membership, was more than one could handle.......

When Amy Wine house died last month, pop culture historians couldn't help but notice that she was 27 years old, thus joining a long line of celebrity musicians who have died at that age, including Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones and Kurt Cobain. Call it "The Curse of 27" or the "27 Club."

As we all now know, these influential rock and blues stars all died at 27 and are some of the most famous members of the "27 club" (also known as the Forever 27 Club). The media's been obsessed with it since Winehouse died. But musicians are aware of it, as well. Kurt Cobain knew about the curse of 27: His mother, Wendy O'Connor,famously said after his death: "Now he's gone and joined that stupid club, I told him not to join that stupid club."

But though the curse might bring chills up your spine, all it takes is one look at someone like Mick Jagger, Lou Reed or Iggy Pop to remind you that death doesn't work in real life the way it does in the fatalistic "Final Destination" films. For every famous musician or artist who has died at 27, of course, hundreds more, many with personal problems just as significant, have not.

Yet something about this legend persists even today with Winehouse's death, despite the fact that the majority of the infamous 27 Club members died within a two-year span in the late '60s and early '70s. (Creepy footnote: The two bookends to that period -- Brian Jones and Jim Morrison -- both died on July 3 ... exactly 24 months apart.)

No person, no matter how many demons they had at age 27, would want that club in their obituary. I've seen some people who think that these deaths are intentionally timed. Like Kurt Cobain intentionally killed himself at that age simply to be in that club. You know, he suffered from depression, drug addiction and numerous other issues. He tried to kill himself at 17, 25, 26 as well, so it's not like he did it just to join a club. It's unfortunate that as a grieving mother, [O'Connor's] quote about the "stupid club" is what made it into the press, because now that's what we think of when people die at that age.

So no, I don't think there's a curse.  I think the number is meaningless. What we're talking about are extreme accounts of extremely troubled young people, which I don't think is a phony category at all ... I don't think it's hogwash to correlate people who fit into that "burning brightly" cliché; I think that means something. But the number itself is meaningless.

You could draw parallels here -- and I'm not trying to be funny at all -- that as certain drugs have become way more potent in the last 10 years, fame itself became much more potent. I do worry that this new speedball combination of fame, talent, sensitivity and a chemical predilection is something that most people won't be able to handle. Fame looks like literal torture these days.

So does this club 27 exist?? or is it just an urban legend?? i don't know. Well, they say, it kicks in, when it kicks it. It has been more than 40 years since the death of some of these rock stars, but people still strive to pay respect and tribute to them when the time comes.Many of today's rock artists have followed club 27 members and many play their music as a respect of their own. the number 27 is a major deal in the rock music genre, as an astounding number of legends passed away at this age. It is a club not many can afford the membership of..........

Better Off Dead…

On this day, i cant help but remember a poem written by a friend of mine... I post this poem in memory of a  guy who passed away yesterday... May his Soul find Peace... This person happens to be my friend's boyfriend... i don't know him very well personally, met him a couple of times.. Truly a sad sad day of all his near and dear ones... Seeing Death so closely gives a person a higher realization of self and God..! Sometimes i wonder, Why are the Gods so cruel.... Death to someone SO young.. who has hardly seen anything in life yet... Cant even imagine the pain of his family... true to the line.. "the Gods must be Crazy..!!"




Bullets on the ground aside this dead boy i see,
blood spread over the walls, how could this be?
the gun in his motionless hand, letters on the other,
words of love left to read now for his mother,
papers on the ground aside this boy i see,
his hearts been left with a hole, his souls been set free,
he has written about this life his past and how his life lost its meaning,
the police come in now who are left for this cleaning,
they tell his mother it was a suicide,
they tell her about how many have done the same and died,
she spends hours awake to now see,
whether her son has left her, now she has to agree,
i cum across his face and i see a smile,
there is a sense of shock within me for a while,
as i read his stories and his words,
of how this boy saw life which was blurred,
this boy will never wake up to breathe,
finishing his writings he felt he was complete,
and finished his time in this world,
his words now seemed true,they began to swirl,
everything was shaky now, i see a light,
i try to move away from it, i try to fight,
it turns dark now, day turns into night,
i see a script on the wall now it is in sight,
about how this boy felt, how he bled,
                                                                and how i decided, i was better off dead.....