Here We Go Again

25 times I've done this. Reflect on the year that's passed. I'm a sucker for moments and nostalgia. I would usually let a year go with a heavy heart. This time, I'm not too sure. They were so many reasons that this year was great, and many reasons that it was the worst. Let's see :

- I've danced a whole lot more this year compared to the last 3 years. At the same time, I also came to realize that I may have missed the bus that was probably gonna get me to a place I can remotely say I have a dancing career

- Earned reasonable amount of money in the beginning of the year and then quit in July. In between jobs ever since

- Took my first steps into pursuing my photography, and I am in a dire need of a DSLR to take it to the next step

- Me casa got a new look, but we celebrate it without Mithran

- My one music idol reached the pinnacle of his career, and another has left us forever

Who said life was easy eh?
:)

I'm thankful that I'm surviving. For all the friendships I've made and strengthened this year. And for all the small moments that made this year bearable.

Happy New Year everyone.

The People In My House

This isn't a school essay about my family and I. ( Yeah, what was up with that anyway? Every single school year started with a damn karangan about "Myself", almost all the way up to Form 5. Ish.) Anyway, the people in my house.

My mother has this habit of naming things in my house.Well, I wouldn't really say it was a habit of hers, but she just started naming things that we use everyday and we are very fond of. So much so, over the years this has become a ritual in our family and we have grown so fond of the things we named. They seem more like people as opposed to just cars and computers. And by name I don't mean Spots, Ladoo, Bubbles, or Tiny. They have real Indian, human names.

We've named things from computer, to the plants, to our baby bolsters, and uh - adult bolsters. But we are most attached to the cars. When she named our oldest boy, the others followed suit and we now have a theme with our car-naming. All the cars in my home are male and their names begin with the letter M.

My baby Kelisa is called Manindra. When I got him in 2006, I actually looked for names in baby naming sites for a name I might like. His name means diamond. I also had Mayank ( means moon) in mind, but my mom finalized on Manindra and I liked it too.

My mom's Myvi is Maheeban, which means King. The only black car in the house. Nice right the name? I would have sooo named my son that if my mother hadn't chosen that name for the car. Ah, what the hell. He is like a son too.

My dad's old school Benz (you know the long boxy looking ones) was called Mughil, which means cloud. He really was adorned in white, like a pretty cloud. Now, I say was because we sold him a coupla years ago. His replacement, my uncle's round-light Merc does not have a name yet. We call him Mughil too, we can't quite get pass the name. Only thing is that he isn't white.

Our oldest, a Nissan Sunny, is called Mithiran, which means friend. He has been the most faithful piece of metal in our lives. To date, he has not had an accident and ironically the few times he has broken down, it happened in places that we were not to be stranded in, like nearby my dad's office or a friends house where we can easily call for help. He has slogged so much for us, I can't even begin to explain how he has made our lives easier. When my dad bought Mughil in 1995, he wanted to sell Mithran. My brother and I protested, and my mom had to take up driving in order to keep and she did. Oh, what would we have done without him. I couldn't really drive manual, and I consider myself unlucky for being the only member of my family who didn't drive him actively.

Now, why this lengthy story of cars and names? Well, Mithran, he has been falling apart over the years, bit by bit. We realized a few years ago that it was best we let him go. He is rusting up inside and not used so much anymore. We thought its best we put an end to his agony. My dad's mechanic has been looking for buyers lately and he will leave us soon.

I can't imagine my home without him. He's been with us even before I was born. Even though we don't drive him much anymore, he is just there. In the house. He's as if like an old friend parked in the compound watching over us. Not in this lifetime, would any other car my family or I own will have the significance to what Mithran is to us. He has been indeed been a friend more than anything. It's gonna be really tough letting him go. Poorni is never gonna be the same again. We are loosing a family member. :(

Poorni, by the way, is the name of me home. My mom I tell you.

It's That Time Of The Year

Merdeka! Merdeka! Merdeka!

I'm so bored. I think it's a sin to let a long weekend go to waste.

Ah, what the hell.

-_-

Kerala People Rock Too. . .

. . .like really hard.

Got this from a friend of mine who is coincidentally a Malayalee living in Mumbai. He digs all these rock bands and stuff, I am not such a rock person. I am more into R&B, hip hop and as a dutiful Tamilian and its roots I love classical Indian music and dapaaguthu. Tee hee.

But this, was shocking. It exceeds expectations, the fact that it is Mallu Rock, the video, everything. Turns out there are more rock fans in Kerala than we think there are. :)




Band : Avial
Title : Nada Nada

Time's Ticking

So it's almost the end of August. I've been outta job for a month now. Decided to finally take a step towards shaping my life the way I want to to be and doing the sort of job and things I wanted to do.

It's not been easy. Ahh, well. Whoever said everything falls on your lap at the exact time you want it? Gotta wait for good things to happen to you.

Only thing is the wait is torture. Like really. Contrary to popular belief, having nothing to do is actually really hard. Sure you have all the time in the world to do what you wish. But to wake up without a purpose and go to bed without feeling tired. . .

Time's ticking. And I am frustrated.

Sigh

.
.
.
.
.

The Kite Runner

I might be a little late to jump on the bandwagon on this one. This book was published in 2003 and then the movie was released in 2007. I just got around to reading it over the last week. People around the world seem to love the book and the movie as well, and I am wondering just how I missed the hype around all this.


The book is amazing, heartbreaking to say the least. You'd often find yourself dazed out after reading, pondering of the characters and events that unfold. It tells you the story of friendship, love, betrayal, religion, patriotism, courage, redemption and ways to be good again, if that is achievable in today's world. Your heart aches at every twist and turn of the story, simply because of the irony that comes along with it. And for softy I am, the last two chapters required a tissue by my side.

Do give this book ago, if you haven't that is. I have to go hunting for the DVD. -_-

The Kite Runner is written by Khaled Hosseini, an Afghan born writer now living in the US.

You Rocked My World, Indeed You Did

I woke up on the morning of 26th June with a devastating SMS from a friend and then a call from my cousin delivering the worst possible news. Dazed, confused, sad and torn. I got ready for work with thousands of tunes and videos slide-showing in my head. I got out of my house, thinking to myself how ironic that the weather was gloomy. I sat in the car, switched on the radio and heard him crooning, “You Rock My World”, and broke down.

That night I drove back to Ipoh. Alone in the highway with him playing in the background, I was still tearing.

Cried like a baby watching his memorial two weeks later.

I am still tearing, as I write this.

It’s been a month since we bid farewell to the greatest entertainer that ever lived. It’s been a month and still I can seem to put in words of this feeling. The feeling, a mixed bag of joy and sorrow, for having lived in his era, and then loosing him.

What can you say to this do this man justice?

I can't for the life of me accept the fact that he has passed on. The icon that made me and million others, love music and dance is no more.

Michael Jackson.

I react everytime I hear that name. EVERY single time.

I feel privileged to have lived in the musical era of a genius. In the era that the world saw it's best musician, singer, entertainer & performer. There will be no other man to eclipse his success. There will NEVER be.

Here's a man, one in a gazillion, to be so gifted with abundance of talents, whether it was singing, dancing, composing and song writing. People who sing that well aren't supposed to dance AS well. You are just NOT supposed to.

But he was of course, God's gift to the world. Michael is probably the first and only artist to have the largest fan base one can possibly imagine. With the way the world currently is, it is no surprise when artists break cultural barriers in conquering masses. When Michael did it, it was history.

To call him the King of Pop is not enough to explain what he is. For I think, he changed how music was going to sound and how music videos and dance were going to look. He was a performer par excellence, with unusual but unique dance moves, unique sense of style and electrifying sense of presence and a man with a great sense of self and individuality. He, I think, IS Pop. He is legend.

Such a person deserved better. But the world was cruel to him. They didn’t leave him alone when he was alive. They don’t seem to leave him alone now neither. The scandal and rumours and speculation circling his death are too unfair for him and his family, especially his children. I wished those who didn’t let him live in peace should at let him rest in peace.

My first memories of him were when I was four. The age children start to recognize faces, music, movies and everything from television. My mom had then taped a show of Michael Jackson that was aired in conjunction with the release of his second solo album Bad. She used to put in on while she fed me. I fell in love with his music, dance. Everything. I remember watching that tape every day.

For some reason, I thought I was Michael Jackson. I remember watching Bad. He had curly long hair. Considering my age, I thought only women were allowed to have long hair, and so I thought he was a woman. My hair was curly. I had just started dance class then. As my interest grew, I looked to the one person that rocked my socks off. And I started calling my self Michael Jackson. Introduced myself that way to EVERYONE. Two of my father's friends in Ipoh still call me Michael Jackson to this day. Yeah, I know.

I used to put on the tape and dance like crazy. Thriller used to scare me. I still used to watch it hiding behind a wall. Billie Jean was mind-blowing. Bad was cool. Beat It, Dirty Diana, Another Part of Me, Smooth Criminal. They were not just songs. They were my childhood.

And a million of others’ teenage & adulthood. The world mourns today, with unbearable pain, reminiscing on the memories he has carved in all of our lives.

I wished he got his chance to perform for the last time, say goodbye and redeem himself. If not for anything, to prove he can still do it at 50 and remind everyone of his greatness. Then I thought, maybe he didn’t need to do that. I think this is his way of punishing all those who not only forgot him over the years, but put him in tremendous turmoil and torture. It is apt that he left; making us feel worse than he possibly could have when he was live. It is apt that he left; leaving us wanting more.

Up in heaven, I hope he gets my prayers and my heartfelt gratitude for having graced my life the way he did. You rocked my world, indeed you did.


Michael Joseph Jackson, I will forever miss you. Rest in Peace.

Decisions

Decisions. Decisions.

I happen to find myself in a position to make an important one. Well not one. Maybe a couple. So nerve wrecking, but I absolutely think it's the jolt I needed to move on with my career and life.

Sigh.

Aggrrrhhh

Blogger's being a pain. Save my damn settings, you moron.

*woosah*

See you all later.

Contentment

Big word. Big meaning. So subjective. Yet attainable.

In small portions, at least.

Off late, with the recent situation at work and just living the life I live in today's world, I forgot the small things that made me feel good about myself. Small, intangible subjects that made me feel like a somebody, and worth something.

I dance. For as long as I can remember. Probably since I was 5. My forte, the Indian classical dance form called Bharatanatyam. Lemme tell you, I'm sure loads of Indian parents living out of India try their very best to instill a bit of culture in their children by enrolling them in classes related to Indian classical art forms, and so did my mom donkey years ago. How dreadful is to go for classes,when your Master whacks you when your hand gestures and movements are not perfect. And it's a bloody difficult form of dance. It was torture when it only meant fulfilling what your parents want you to do.

I performed for the first time when I was 9. Looking at the pictures of me dolled up in costumes and jeweleries brings back so many memories. How nerve-wrecking it was, but I enjoyed those times. Knowing, that lots of the other regular kids would have been home watching cartoons or playing with their siblings, and that I had something to call my own, something that made me different was a great feeling. I grew well into my teenage years with this in mind. And that's when I fell in love with dance.

No internet, no YouTube, no technology like these days to profess my love to the art form. All I had was to give it my gazillion percent at dance classes every Friday night.I no longer attended class because I had, I did it because I WANTED to. I must thank God, for he has blessed me with a great sense of rhythm and the gift of picking up dance moves real quick. It made me think to myself that maybe I was born to do this. Born to dance, born to teach dance, born to be a dance enthusiast. Something. Anything that was related to this art form.

Coming from a very small town ( at not exactly the town where performing arts is considered cool ), I seeked inspirations at dance performances that was staged in Ipoh. My mother and I NEVER missed any shows. I remember sitting amongst the audience thinking that one day the same hall will be filled with people watching me,and that actually has yet to happen. It was also then I came to know off Sutra Dance Theatre and it's inescapable association to the man who is not Indian but dances the Indian dance form like he is one. As every other performance I saw, Sutra and the whole picture it painted was an inspiration too me. And as a little kid, I wished that I could do major performances like that and that just seemed a faraway dream.

Never in the life of me did I imagine I would have the chance to perform there one day. And I did along with my dance school for 3 years in Alarippu to Moksha organized by Sutra. It was the greatest thing for me. Also, the fact that during the second year there was a super-tiny review written about me in the local daily was such a booster.

My going for Bharatanatyam classes reduced massively because I was going to college in a different city and I refused to enrol myself elsewhere. One thing, when you make a connection to a certain art form at a certain level, you NEVER betray the school that instilled that in you. If you need to spread your wings, ALWAYS seek permission from the it.

It wasn't until much later I enrolled in Sutra myself. Due to colleges and transportation problems, I couldn't joined them earlier. I started training in Odissi, which happens to be Sutra's major draw. It was great to dance again, and seeing the level of achivement one can attain here is exciting. It's the 4th year this year, and I have had the greatest experience being a student here. The people you meet, the teach of dance that you take, the level of maturity of my teachers are something I'll cherish for a long time.

Last week for the first time, I was a small part of Sutra's major production ( it's not even that major by Sutra's standard ). It was the first time I adorned an Odissi costume, headress, bells and people had to pay to come watch me ! *grins* I forgot what great fun it was to be on stage, to have you loved ones come tell you how well you did, in a dance form that I think I'm rather retarded at. I'm going to terribly miss the practices and hanging out with the dance-classmates. What a great feeling also, to be on the SAME stage with dancers who you've watched when you were much younger when they toured to your small town. The people you read about in the programme books they distribute at shows that you still have in your drawers. And for them to come tell you that I did a pretty decent job is the greatest feeling.

This show, Alarippu to Moksha 2009 has seriously reaffirmed the faith I have in me that one day I will a great dancer. Simply because I gave it my best, and enjoyed myself every single second of it. I've made new friends, had new experiences, mastered myself to be a better dancer and lived the worthiest time of my life in recent times.

I wonder what would I have become, should my parents allowed me to do this professionally? Should I have had a better platform and hence better exposure? Should I have forced myself to find a way to never have stopped dancing at one point? In my heart I know I wouldn't be this person I am if I didn't grow up with dance. Everyone, anyone owe it to the arts they practice moulding them to be a unique human being in their own right. I am not the best example of an angel, but I am a better human being than half the world because of my training in dance since young.

I plegded to myself to never abandon dance. I never would. Never could. Maybe that's why I even had this smallest chance of performing in places I never imagined I would. I don't know what my future is as a dancer, but I know dance will forever be my one definite contentment.

=)

Alarippu to Moksha 2009

Bharata Natyam & Odissi by Dancers of Sutra Academy

Artistic Direction : Ramli Ibrahim & Guna

Alarippu to Moksha plots the journey of a dancer from the first beginning to the attainment of absolute joy ( moksha) when Dance and the Dancer finds resonance in each other.

Alarippu to Moksha, started in 1997 as Sutra Dance Theatre's launching pad for it's new talents. This is a dance season featuring both Sutra's senior and upcoming dancers in compelling programs of Bharata Natyam and Odissi.

For Sutra watchers, Alarippu to Moksha is an excellent 3- day season to see up-close emerging talents - and they are plenty of them !

It is truly reaffirming to watch the young dancers projected to the fore with the challenges of new works. In
Alarippu to Moksha 2009 , the Sutra dancers are given the chance to empower themselves as they break new grounds, transcend fears and transform their own lives in challenging repertoires.

Watch new talents in an exciting programs of Bharata Natyam and Odissi which have been Sutra hallmarks and which had previously launched dancers who are now associated with Indian classical dance in Malaysia. Watch the new dancers close ranks with the seniors and negotiate their positions as stars in the making.

Date :
12 May (Tue) : Bharata Natyam
13 May (Wed) : Odissi
14 May ( Thu) : Odissi

Time : 8:00 PM
Venue : MTC Auditorium, Jalan Ampang
Tickets : RM 20 ONLY

Wheeee!

I return to the land in which I'm most happy at tomorrow. AFTER A WHOLE MONTH. This has been the longest I've been away from my hometown ever since I left Ipoh way back in 2002. Haih.

Ipoh ! Here I come !

WHEEEEEE!

=)

Gosh

I can't seem to find anything to write. Geez. How ironic to have a blog and not know what to write? Hahaha.

Actually I could. I've been doing nothing but ranting the last two posts and afraid of sounding mundane, I'm restraining myself. Geez. I'm doing it again.

-_-

Anyways, point being, I'm losing myself. Completely. I never used to be like this. There are so many things in my head that I could write about but I only think of my current situation and mulling over it. Not good. Not helping.

I need to get out there and get my life back. Not that it went anywhere. I just stopped living it.

Please slap me for not living the each day like my last. Yes God. I'm talking to you.

SLAP ME ! ! !

CRAP !

!@#$%^&*()_+_)(*&^%$#@!@#$%^&*()_+_)(*&^%$#@!#$%^&*()_)^%#

+_)(*&^%$#@#$%^&*()_+_)(*&^%$#@#$%^&*()_)(*&^%$#@#$%^&*

)(*&^%$#@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#$%)(*&^%$#@#$%^&*()_)(*&^%$#@#$%

Woosah.

Crossroads

Series of events over the past week has seriously put me at crossroads. Sigh. I seriously have no idea what to do with my life at this point of time. I could stick to this job, earn a comfortable life and loose my soul completely or run away in pursue of what heart desires. And have a not-very-fat bank account.

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

Now, if only I didn't have the Pet Pets to cheer me up. Thank you Pet Pets.

=)

Jai Ho

It's been a whole week since the Oscars that took place on the 22nd of February. I've been going crazy not knowing how to celebrate the win of the musical genius. I've been wanting to write about this for the past week, but I've been doing nothing but surfing the net and reading the millions of articles and videos that showcases or read of his historic win. 

And I can't get enough of it. I've come across some of his rare interviews, some old music videos of his songs in the early 90's and clippings of his concerts on everybody's favourite tube. His interviews are excellent, it's absolutely lovely to hear him speak for there is something to ponder about in every single thing he says.I've been listening to songs from Roja right up to Delhi 6 and in the process discovered so many things about his music that I have missed. Tunes that was released when I was way too young to understand and comprehend the music and lyrics off, but now they've so made my day everyday lately. Being Tamil, I didn't really pay much attention to his Hindi music. Somebody slap me please, I know.

In a weird way, and I think I speak on behalf of his gazillions of other fans too, I always have  this odd feeling of obligation towards ARR as a fan. For all the love and support we give him, he has NEVER dissappointed us,eventhough when there was a period his music was below par ( and by his own standards at that ). He's  such an inspirational, spiritual, knowledgable and nice human being that  as fans we wish to emulate him in life and living it the way it does, or at least try to. I quote ( and absolutely agree with) a comment I read on youtube; " He MAKES you want to be a good human being. What a genius! "

And now the Oscars. He has not only fulfilled our dreams, he has given us fans bragging rights for eternity. =) He will remain the first Tamil and Asian music director to win the prestigious award on the very American stage, until maybe his successor is born or discovered. 

The least I could do, was to take leave from work and watch him make history on teevee. Very well aware that I was holding my breath as they opened the envolope to annouce the name of the winner, I let out a huge sigh of relief as they announced his name as winner for Best Original Score in a Motion Picture for Slumdog Millionaire. 

And then it sunk in. I watched his acceptance speech admist tears of joy. And a bonus within the next 10 minutes for Oscar number 2. Bliss, I tell you.

Oh, and the three tiny lil' Tamil words at the Oscar stage. Amazing. 

                                    Image source : www.masala.com

Thank you AR Rehman for your music. God Bless you and may you be blessed with even more musical success and good health. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with Rehna Tu.

=)

It's Mid - February Already?

Just felt we ushered in a brand new year and we're cruising along midway through the second month already. 

Sigh. 

And I still don't know what to do with my life as yet. The dateline I set for myself  to decide was April . 

Dammit. 

Money Flows Like Water. . .

Sigh.

=(

Waaaaaaaa!

)':

Dammit.

-_-

Rainy Sunday Afternoon

Sigh. It doesn't quite get better than this. Nothing like bumming the daylights out of your hectic city life in the small lil' town you call hometown yo !

Yeah baby ! ;)

Sunday afternoon. Light drizzle outside my window. Amma's chicken perattal and mutton curry nicely settling in my tummy.

Aaaahhhh !

Just perfect to curl up in bed for a nap with the already perfect ambiance.

=)

Happy 28th Wedding Anniversary Papa & Amma !

In Need Of A New Direction

Like desperately. Very thankful for the life I have. The family. The loved ones. The friends. The car. The home. The passion and interests. 

But something is not satisfying the soul and it's dreams. 

Sigh. 

Need to sort myself REAL soon. Sort-kan sendiri sebelum anda disort-kan. 

Bleh.

' Mozart of Asia' Makes My Monday

I dragged myself back to work after a fantastic 4 days at paradise wishing I didn't leave it in the first place. On a day where I only expected nothing but back-logged tasks and emails, I stumbled upon the best possible news ever :

AR REHMAN WINS THE GOLDEN GLOBE !

*wheeeeee*

I'm in total awe. It's so crazy, I can't believe it ! But I do think it's about time he deserves it. It's about time the world recognize the genius in this man and acknowledged the mindblowing music he has produced since 1992.

Here's to all Rehman-iacs, music lovers, Indians & Tamilians around the world.

Image source : www.masala.com

From L-R : Slumdog Millionare Director Danny Boyle, Music Director AR Rehman, Producer Christian Colson & Writer Simon Beaufoy

=)

Paradise Awaits

I'M GOING TO LANGKAWI TOMORROW ! 

*grins*

I'm still not recovered from the flu and soar throat that caught me end of last year. (Whoa. Sounds cool no? I'm still sick from last year). Anyway, so yeah. I'm still not the pinkest shades of health now but hey, I'm going to Langkawi baybeh. Can't be mulling over the block nose and cough now, can I. 

Here's looking forward to a great weekend with friends. 

=)

Mondays . . .

are a shithole.*growl*

Especially after a long break. With a generous dose of family, friends and love. Not to mention your own bed in Ipoh. -_-

Sigh.

I've gotten used to this though over the years. Left Ipoh when I was 18 to pursue my studies and dreams here Kuala Lumpur. And I used to travel by bus every weekend back to Ipoh. EVERY weekend. I take a Metrobus to Pudu and then coach ( preferably and strictly Transnasional or Plusliner only) to Ipoh. It takes 2 and a half or 3 hours max to reach Ipoh via the Lebuhraya Utara Selatan. If I saved all my bus tickets, I swear I could buy a share in Plusliner.

That 3 hours on every journey has been such a huge part of my life. Initially, the excitement of going home was so overwhelming that I never used to be able to sleep or shut my eyes. After sometime, it was a good half-hour nap session. I was so afraid I will oversleep and miss the Ipoh stop or end in Kedah or something. Now, I'm so used to the timing that I snooze as soon as the bus leaves the platform in Pudu and surprisingly wake up as the bus slows down at the Simpang Pulai toll.

Once in a blue moon when sleepy doesn't come , I stare out the window. Honestly, the scenery along the Malaysian highway is amazing. And as you approach north, the caves and mountains get greener and gorgeous-er. Contrary to the journey back to KL, you only approach a concrete jungle, though I must say KL's skyline is said to be one of the best that there is.

Subsequently, Pudu also became one of my favourite places in KL. Yes, call me weird but yeah. I love the noisy, polluted, crowded bus station. Why I like it - it takes me back to Ipoh. And family and peace and quiet. And it will remain as one of my favourite places.

No matter how many times I've travelled back on forth, and how used I am to this, my heart sinks a little when I leave Ipoh. There is a sanity and assurance that is different of the sanity and assurance I feel in KL. For different reasons of course, but still it makes me feel good.

My frequency to Ipoh has reduced a lot these days due to work and a life I have here in KL. Now that I have my own place here, my parents sometimes do the travelling to be with me. Still, I pounce at every chance I get to go back home. And the Mondays after I come back from Ipoh, are always a shithole.

Turns out, Mondays are also a good day to reminisce the past. =)

I Want To Cut Off My Nose

Ugh.Still sick. And today was Priya's wedding. What bad timing.

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the wedding with a tissue constantly stuck at my nose.

I wish Priya & Champesh a happy and blissful married life.

=)

Not Such A Great Start...

I have a freaking block nose and a bloody soar throat. Ugh.

What a great start to a new year.

Hmmmph.

Happy New Year 2009

God's time machine is on a pace of its own, and just like that * snaps fingers*, a new year is born.

Times are crazy now, don't you think? I honestly don't know where the last 12 months went. I've been wanting to do this for sometime now, but really haven't gotten around to actually doing it. Not so much for blogging purpose, I've always wanted in some way to remember my days and its happenings. To opine and share and quiz and vent my thoughts without having to hear uhms and buts to my face. A place to call it my own.

Well, so here it is. Here's wishing anyone who stumbles upon Thoughts Like Mine and cares to leave a thought or two of their own a very Happy New Year 2009. May this year bring the best of of you.

=)