Sugar Substitutes

I had a momentary lapse of concentration this afternoon. I picked up a 20-ounce beverage that only has 100 calories in the bottle. For some reason, the package led me to believe that it was naturally sweetened, but as soon as I had my first sip I realized it wasn't. The ingredients include crystalline fructose and sucralose. From the description of crystalline fructose I found on Wikipedia, it sounds like "natural" and just as processed as high fructose corn syrup without all the negative media baggage. Natural sweeteners, how much ever they are processed, are fine with me. On the other hand, sucralose is totally artificial, most commonly known by the brand name Splenda. I always find it amusing how Splenda adds purport that it's made from real sugar - because it seems to have the same effect on me that aspartame does.

I do not intend to crusade against artificial sweeteners like sucralose and aspartame. A lot of people use them to manage diabetes or reduce calories, reasons I think are perfectly legit. But I do seem to get headaches and stomachaches from artificial sweeteners and wish there were more beverages out there that were sold unsweetened or lightly sweetened with natural sweeteners. I do want to watch my calories but I don't want to ingest chemicals that make me feel sick in order to do so. Yes of course I could stick to water, or just drink soda on a limited basis, but sometimes I want something with a little more flavor without all the guilt to stay hydrated!

No matter what your stance on artificial sweeteners and other food additives, it's a good idea to double check the ingredients label before spending $2.25 on a yuppie drink.

Ovaltine

Yesterday I bought "European Formula" Ovaltine from Shaw's, the local grocery store chain. I think there was a huge markup; the price tag read $6.29. But I'd already looked for it at Shalimar, the Indian Grocery Store in Central Square here in Cambridge, and it was out of stock or they don't carry it. Even today, twenty-two years after my first Ovaltine memories, I sometimes still need incentive to drink my milk.

My mom's parents used to live in Nairobi, Kenya. We visited them when I was six years-old, and even though this trip included such exhilarating experiences as visiting the crowded public market in central Nairobi and traveling to Mombasa for a safari where I saw lions, zebras, rhinoceroses, giraffes, and other wild animals up close, my fondest memory was attempting to drink my milk every morning.

The old formula for Ovaltine was meant for hot milk, but I put it right on top of my cold milk. It didn't mix in very much and the malted chocolate powder would form small bubble-like morsels on the top of my milk. I would save these morsels for last as a reward for finishing the glass of milk, but since the Ovaltine only lightly flavored the milk I still needed additional encouragement to get to the end.

My grandfather, whom I called Daddy, was my cheerleader. Or my competitor? Coach? He made it into a game. He always had a cup of chai (tea) and he'd challenge me to see who could finish first. I knew he was just playing with me, that I could kick up a fuss and then game over. But I liked the game, between the feigned race (I would gulp, and he would sip), and I liked the chocolaty finish line.

I think I tried the American formula Ovaltine once or twice and I can't remember for sure if there was a taste or texture difference, but somehow I have the perception that the imported formula is more like what I had in Nairobi. I think that the American formula was designed to dissolve easily in cold milk, but several years ago even the formula for the imported version changed to favor cold milk. I have always mourned this formula change. Nevertheless, I buy a bottle of the imported version every once in a while and the taste always takes me back to Nani and Daddy's dining table in Nairobi. Even though it dissolves easily now I always try not to stir it too much so I still get some extra chocolate at the end. Mmmmm...

(Written on Thursday morning, August 28, 2008 between 9-10am in Cambridge, Massachusetts, shortly after enjoying a glass of Ovaltine. I think I'm going to go for seconds now.)

Time Zones

Okay I'm back sooner rather than later. But it's less than half an hour later so it doesn't really count.

One side effect of moving around is changing time zones all the time! I want things recorded in the local time, with a note about the time zone I was in at the time I recorded them!

When I change the time zone in my Google Calendar it adjusts all the meeting times. And in my last post, I noticed it had posted in Arizona time so I changed my settings to Eastern time. All the posts I'd written in Baltimore were restored to Eastern time, but the one post I'd written in Arizona is now in Eastern time too. Yeah, great, I know what time it was in "real time" but I feel like it is more meaningful to know what time it was when the story was written in local time. Especially when I post at ridiculous hours like in the wee hours of the night or first thing in the morning.

Well I will figure out a way around this, even if it means writing in my own time stamp at the end of every post. Or maybe I will lose my attachment to local time in favor of real time. Only time will tell.

Written on Sunday, August 24, 2008 in Cambridge, Massachusetts at 11:32 PM Eastern Daylight Time.

An attempt to start again...

I think about posting to this blog frequently. I write the posts in my mind, the topics ranging from my latest crisis of identity to reviews of local restaurants to clever analysis of my favorite movies to public attempts at improving my vocabulary. The reality is that my last post was over seven months ago, and the post before that was a year and a half ago. Well, here is yet another attempt. In my previous post, I had just moved to Phoenix. Now I've traversed the country again and live in Cambridge, Massachusetts - just a short walk across the river to Boston.

Right now I'm watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I was thinking about watching my DVD of the movie earlier today, and then this evening while flipping through channels it turned out to be on TBS. Had I seen ads for the movie on TBS earlier, and that's how it got into my mind? I don't remember seeing any.

What I'm supposed to be doing is writing cover letters. Not my favorite activity, so naturally this was the perfect time to resurrect my blog.

I can feel myself tempted to save this post for later... so instead, I'm going to click "Publish Post". Hopefully you'll hear from me again soon. Whoever you are.

Goodbye 2007, Hello Arizona

On January 7, 2007, I met the love of my life. We fell in love shortly after my last blog post eleven months ago. Since then, I've gotten engaged, set a wedding date, quit my job and left Baltimore, got married in Iowa, and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. Moving across the country, changing jobs, and getting married are all significant life events in themselves, and I did all three in 2007. Taxes are going to be fun. Today, I'm happily married and also happy that 2007 is behind me.

More to come on my thoughts on Phoenix or other stuff going on in my head soon.

Morning Snow

Crystalline soldiers are parachuting down from the sky on a rescue mission. Wet and fluffy droplets, extricating yesterday’s gloom like an astringent-soaked cotton ball sucking impurities from my skin.

I open my window, leaving the screen open too, eliminating some distance between me and outside. Perhaps a snowflake will wander in to start its cleansing? No, it turns out not to be necessary. Just seeing the flakes floating in the sky, settling on rooftops, lifts my mood immediately. Each tiny white dot reflects sunlight, making the day surreally bright and picturesque. Mother Nature has not failed to share her gift of hope.

My tears won't bring her back

My tears won’t bring her back. No matter how many tears I shed... her promising career as a young lawyer, her happy marriage, her life, her husband’s life... they are all over. No matter what I say to make it better, it makes no sense. Katie Finn Milleman died a day before her first anniversary and less than two weeks before her 27th birthday. Her husband died too; they were in a car accident. At least they’re still together now. Nope, that doesn’t make it better. At least she led a happy, full life. Nope, that doesn’t make it better. She touched countless lives with her grace and generosity, more than many would in their lifetimes. Nope, that doesn’t make it better either. Since I heard the news, I’ve gotten back in touch with people I haven’t talked to in years. But that doesn’t bring her back. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s buried under six feet of dirt just off 9th Street in Ames and that I won’t see her at my ten year high school reunion.

My mom had left me a message to call home but I didn’t call back. I went to yoga the next morning, and for some reason I thought of Katie. Perhaps someone in yoga class reminded me of her. Then later that day I was at the grocery store and either I called my mom or she called me. I think she called me. She told me in a hushed voice “Katie Finn died.” What?

My reaction is still the same. What? You must mean someone else. That can’t be. Not her.

I called some high school friends. I felt it my responsibility to pass on the word, in case they hadn’t heard. Then I got all the info from a classmate’s mom. She emailed me the accident report and gave me her son Joe’s phone number. Then I talked to Joe, who gave me the information on how to get a bereavement fare. His mom told me he’d be one of the pall bearers at the funeral. I think he was at Erica’s house. I talked to Erica too. The last time I saw Katie was with Erica in Iowa City. What to say?

Katie, like me, had a younger brother. I talked to my brother Nitin. He said... “Her brother must be devastated.” We were both silent after he said this, thinking the same thing.

I talked to my parents. My mom said “that’s the worst thing a parent could go through...”

I went to Ames in October. It was on my mind, but I wasn’t there for long enough to go to the cemetery. And maybe, I just wasn’t ready. But shortly after arriving home from the airport I ran up to the room to find a journal in which people had written messages to me at high school graduation. What Katie had written to me touched me, meant so much to me that I still remember it eight and a half years later. She had written that she’d always admired me. She admired me? Since I was seven years-old I admired Katie Finn. She was smart, pretty, popular, and always nice. She wanted the best for people. I saw so much goodness in her. We were never close friends, but she was always part of my life.

When I went home for Christmas, my mom gave me a letter that a classmate had sent. Some of my high school classmates, those who were close friends with her, are planning to purchase a couple of trees and a bench at a park near Katie’s parents’ house as a Class of 1998 memorial to her and John, and were asking for donations. John was also from our hometown, and his sister is in our class as well. I called Carrie, the one who sent the letter. I went to elementary school with Katie, and Carrie, and John’s sister, also named Katie. I’ve known these people practically forever. I asked her if it was too late to send a donation, since the letter said December 1. I told her that I’d been meaning to send Katie’s family a letter since September, when the accident happened, but I kept getting stuck. Carrie told me that if I still wanted to send something, it helped Katie’s family to receive mail with memories of Katie. It helped them know they weren’t going through this horrible mess alone. I asked Carrie where Katie was buried. She told me that Katie and John were buried side by side in the cemetery just off 13th Street. There weren’t headstones yet, but new grass and two big wreaths. Funny that I'd passed this cemetery thousands of times but never noticed it.

Priya and I went to see Katie and John on December 30 at dusk. Priya had found the information on the Internet, which stated the address as 9th Street. There was also an entrance from 13th, but we entered through 9th. Priya and I were clueless about cemetery etiquette... can we drive through here? Some of these pathways are a bit narrow, but paved. There are tons of wreaths here! Where is the new grass? Two big wreaths side by side. We searched for several minutes and right when I started calling someone... I hated to call people and disturb them with this question... Priya saw two wreaths without headstones. We got out of the car, and saw it was them. There were two small signs in the ground with their names. There were two rectangles carved into the ground behind these signs, where their caskets were buried. We placed flowers at each grave. Others had done the same.

I thought that going to the cemetery would help it sink in more. I couldn’t shut up; I kept making stupid euphemistic comments to Priya. I touched the ground where Katie was buried, that helped a little. I wish I went to the funeral. I want to see my classmates or others who were close to her. I want to wallow in this for a while. Will it help? What is there to say? Nothing justifies this. There is no sense to it. It is tragic. I still cry, and yet my life goes on. All of our lives still go on, memories of Katie and John echoing in our minds.

I keep thinking, there is no way that this is real. But it is.

For Fear of Bad Poetry

I wrote these poems in high school. I am still entertained by them. Some of them were once published in our high school literature and art publication, Scratch Pad, and others were not deemed even good enough to qualify as bad high school poetry. Enjoy.

1.
Slender legs that slice
When they are spread
And unspread
Curvaceous
So I can grip you tight
I love your music
When you cut my paper

2.
In the Media Center

The rain bullets upon the roof.
Everything outside is thinly glazed.
I am inside, an unfrosted cake.

3.
Autumn Wind

The wind sweeps across the trees,
Whistling like a thousand birds screaming.
The trees sway with the motion while
Their leaves fall to the parched yellow grass,
Sighing winter one by one.

4.
You're sitting in class,
Waiting for time to pass.
Your desk, you caress--
And suddenly depress
Something hardened.
Your fingernails dig,
It's chunky and big.
You look underneath,
While licking your teeth,
Seeing an array of color.
Stupid and dumb--
It's gum.

5.
once upon a time
prince charming
met ken and they
ditched their fairy
tale disproportional
girls and they dated
each other instead
and prince charming
proposed to ken
with a ring that had
a huge rock and
ken said yes thinking
wow he is the boy of
my dreams and they
got married illegally
and they lived
happily ever after

6.
The Cycle of Non-Flushing

You go to the toilet.
You look in the pot.
Something's there that should be not.
Why don't people flush? You wonder.
You sit down and leave your plunder.
You ponder your thoughts.
You read the walls, reaching for the toilet paper.
Getting up, you juice the gossip.
You leave the stall.
The next victim walks in.
They look in the pot.
Something's there that should be not.

7.

PANDORA           born with a brain to be used
USED HER BRAIN                     a new concept
AND GAVE                                     took away
MEANING TO LIFE      the monotony of utopia

8.
Roller coasting up the hill
Excitement quickly mounting ‘til
The top is reached and we become
Nervous, thinking kingdom come
Hearts beat wildly in flip flops
The creaking coaster slowly stops
Silence, hushed anticipation
Trembling, screaming expectation
Bodies freeze desiring action
Soon – within a second’s fraction…
Zoom the coaster now descends
Down the hill and quickly bends
Around a corner, upside-down
Loop-the-loop, round and roun’
Thrilling, chilling, oh what fun!
Can you believe it’s so soon done?
One more time – it went so fast!
Please oh please, we’ll make it last!