Most people may equate long distance relationships to failure because it’s full of twists and turns, not to mention the emotional and financial stress involved. Absence, often times don’t make the heart grow fonder. But I know we all can agree that long distance relationship can have a happy ending too if the right amount of everything is put into it.

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A night alone has its positives:  undistracted catch-up on neglected music blogs, for one.  Being forced to clean due to insomnia is another.  Enjoying *cough* new movies.

But then, inevitably, I turn down the blankets and crawl into bed, and become acutely aware of why the distractions are not truly distraction at all – not in the negative sense.  Disconnecting is healthy, sometimes – both from life outside of a happy bubble and from the bubble itself.  Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but it doesn’t mean I have to deny the longing for the arms around my frame and the warmth of breath upon my ear.

Day Seventy-Eight:  I Go To Sleep (Peggy Lee) – Sia

To Scram.. we friends right?

From the day we met

I know we were destined to be friends

And although you far, sometimes busy

Whenever I need a friend

I call and our talk is true and easy

You are my friend, to the end.

From A boy

MARRIAGE A LA MODE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Dear Reader, I am sure you have heard the saying: Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Now, please read this fiction short story:

At exactly 8 PM her cell-phone rings in her hand. She’s expecting the call – that’s why she’s holding the cell-phone in her hand. She looks at the caller-id, accepts the call, moves the mobile phone near her ear and says, “I love you, darling!”

“I love you, Sugar!” says her husband’s voice from half way around the globe. On his bed beside him, sprawled with arms and legs outstretched like a fallen statue, the woman is still asleep, her breathing untroubled.

It’s a long distance marriage, and the ‘married bachelors’ have been following the same drill for quite some time now – two calls every day at exactly the same time (Eight in the morning she calls him up just before leaving for work and eight in the evening she receives his call from half way across the globe just before he leaves for work. And both of them start their conversation automatically with the words: “I love you, darling! Or, I love you, Sugar!” He’s her ‘darling’ and she’s his ‘Sugar’!)

“How was your day?” the husband asks.

“Hectic. Lot’s of work. Deadlines to meet!” the wife answers. She steals a glance at the handsome young man sitting beside her in the darkened lounge bar.

“It’s terrible here too,” the husband says, “It’s killing – the work. Too much traveling. Sales meets, seminars, conferences. One hotel to another. Living out of a suitcase. I’m feeling exhausted.”

It’s true. The husband is indeed feeling exhausted; a relaxing, satiating kind of exhaustion. He gets up and opens the window and allows the early morning air to cool his body, then turns around and looks at the marvelous body of the woman on his bed. She looks lovelier than ever before, and as he remembers the ferocity of her lovemaking, he feels waves of desire rise within him. Not for a long time has the mere sight of a woman aroused the lion in him to such an extent. He smiles to himself. He feels proud and elated; it was a grand performance. Spontaneous lovemaking at its best; not like the planned and contrived “quality” lovemaking with his wife, full of performance anxiety, each performing for the other’s gratification, putting on an act and both faking pleasure thinking the other would not know.

“Yes, darling. Poor you. I can understand,” the wife says, and sips her potent cocktail. It’s her third. She wonders what it is – the mysterious but deadly intoxicating cocktails her companion is plying her with, and she is feeling gloriously high.

“I’m just waiting for this hectic spell of work to be over so we can meet,” the husband says. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at the sleeping woman. Mesmerized, marveling. It is difficult to believe that in a few hours from now they would be addressing each other formally again.

“Oh, yes. It’s been three months and I’m dying to meet you. When are we meeting?” the wife asks.

“I’m planning a fantastic vacation. I’ll let you know soon. We’ll go to some exotic place. Just the two of us. Quality Time!” the husband says to his faraway wife and at the same time looks yearningly at the gorgeously sexy woman lying so close to him.

“That’s great! We must spend some Quality Time together,” the wife says to her distant husband while she snuggles close against her strikingly handsome colleague. He presses his knee against hers. She presses hers against his. He moves his hand around her over her soft skin and pulls her gently. She feels an inchoate desire. He gently strokes her hair, and she turns towards him, her mouth partly open as he leans over her.  Fuelled by the alcohol in her veins, she can sense the want churning inside her like fire. And as she looks into his eyes, and feels the intensity of his caresses, she can sense her resistance melting.

“I love you, Sugar!” the husband says.

“I love you, darling!” the wife says.

Their lovey-dovey conversation completed, both the long distance spouses disconnect their cell-phones, focus on their present objects of affection, and, with renewed zeal, carry on the passionate amorous activity presently in hand. After all, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

At the beginning of this story I had quoted a famous saying: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Now I am temped to say: Absence makes the heart grow fonder – for someone else.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

vikramkarve@sify.com

Hey Blog-o-Sphere,

It’s me, Matt.  Welcome to my blog.  I’ll be posting thoughts and thought-provoking questions as they come to me.  Come back often for my latest musings and feel free to share your comments with me.

First musing:

My car is broke.  Should I carry it to a mechanic or should I carry it over to a used car lot and trade it for something else?

Given(s): Distance is not a factor with my inhuman muscular endurance.

Muse with me,

matt

I fell in love with a nomad.

His skin is smooth,

sandpapered by beaches and dunes.

Cold desert winds sleep in his heart

His soul is restless,

It tears us apart.

His feet have walked many a path.

Fragrant and coloured by the clay,

they crush my heart.

Like the grapes at taverns he stops at.

Stop a while with me nomad.

Dry my tears,

with the roving suns,

that are your eyes.

How long will the wind carry you?

It must be tired.

Let it fly to a green grove.

While you find home in my arms.

his name is Greg. And as of 11/16/09 we are officially together. Yay. Now to see how it goes. Long distance, limited Internet communication, almost entirely over the phone, 3 time zones apart, roughly 2-4% chance of seeing each other all year if we were to last a whole year. This will be very interesting.

I announced that I was in another relationship again on both facebook and MySpace, but on facebook the announcement seemed to have mixed opinions and more questions than anything, particularly about those long-distance conditions. And there’s probably still confusion as to why I kept saying I wasn’t looking for a relationship and somehow ended up in another one. (I think I just got lucky…?) It’s been a crazy-depressing weekend because of the announcement, too. I’m not going to get into it. Too much explaining to do and I’ve lost way too much sleep over the past few months. I’m happy. That’s good enough for now. =)

Also, I sort of moved the blog to a different URL. From http://marymercado.wordpress.com to http://pimeh.wordpress.com. I thought it would be easier to remember since it’s the same username I have for twitter and sort of for YouTube too.

Can’t wait to hear from my dum dum. <3

Well, I thought last weekend was activity-packed.  These last few days took the weekend-warrior concept and set the bar just a little bit higher….

******

I felt a little restless on Friday after work. Thursday’s run took a backseat to staying-out-of-the-cold-rain and staying In to cook some burgers and relax with a friend. No running since Tuesday? No, these legs do not appreciate that!

It was too dark, but the temp felt great and I just wanted to move a little bit. Two miles later? I was fine with stopping, walking up Harvard Hill and then taking it easy for the last mile. 4 miles, 40 minutes.

Post Run Dinner: Grilled Italian-seasoned Chicken, Spinach salad, Roasted Butternut Squash. SUCCESS! We’ll get back to that on Friday….

Slow and steady, staying fresh for 11……

******

Saturday Morning, LR

Lessons Learned: Review the route before heading to the meet up! Research events (i.e. races and walks) before mapping a route that goes through the Mall!

My usual pace-buddy skipped out on this one. I knew that meant I’d start too fast, but as long as I can keep up, eventually find my pace, and NOT DIE by the end of 11 miles? I’m happy. This also meant I brought the iPod for back-up…..

8:12, 8:01, 7:45

This is not a tempo run! This will hurt by the end. We just missed our turn, and HELLO – Something is going on down here!

We ran right into the “Help the Homeless Walkathon”. Uh, oops. Running against 1,000s of walkers wasn’t exactly on the Plan, but after some weaving and route-readjusting we were back on track.

8:08, 8:09, 8:10

Finally falling behind the front-runners; looks like they’re tacking on Capitol Hill? No thanks! Three of us turned at 5.5 and headed back down the Mall; Iwo Jima (IJ), here we come!

8:17, 8:11, 8:09

Passing Lincoln’s memorial, over the bridge, and contemplating if we want to head into Arlington  and tackle IJ or just turn and head back into the park. Hmmm….

Heyo! The rest of the group caught up to us (after their add-on), and we all decided, SURE, we’ll run up IJ and over Key bridge instead.

Put. On. The TUNES. Much needed at this point….

8:11, 8:03, 8:09 (0.6)

My thoughts with 1 mile left, running through Georgetown: Hey, Beyonce! Keep it goin’ T.I. (+Eminem). Ah, Fall Out Boy – there you are. I was giving my buddy a play-by-play; he rarely runs with music, but we both needed it at this point. OMG, how are we not done running yet?! Gah…..

11.6 miles – 1:34:07 – avg 8:07 min/mile

******

Sunday: Mile Trial!

A 60* and sunny afternoon of walking around, frozen yogurt, meeting up with friends, Starbucks and my book – that kind of day is hard to beat. We topped it off with a trip the track! Mile Trial? Yes, I’m IN.

We used a few laps to warm up, and then did some Plyometrics. I haven’t used this type of stretching since the days of highschool soccer! It gets the heart pumping before you make those legs Fly.

I was all kinds of jittery; too much coffee today? nervous for a speedworkout (uh, it’s been a while….)? anxious that I might get a mile PR or PW? Ah! I started first, and finished Second (of 6 of us there).

~1 mile – 5:27

WHAAAT?!  Yes, a mile feels very *short* in our distance-trained minds, but this? Uhh, each one of us speculates that the track is a little off. Out of 4 Garmin-wearers, no two watches registered the same distance. It ranged from 0.84 – 0.97. We know these things aren’t 100% accurate, but something is wrong here.

We’ll be doing a little research (i.e. calling the Athletic Director of the school) to see if our suspicions are correct. If so, we’ll retry this next week and see what really happens. According to my Garmin, I ran 0.85 miles at 6:30 min/mile pace. I’ll take that time too! If we’re wrong, and that was a full mile…..well, let’s just say I had no Idea my legs had that in them!

Now I remember why speedwork is so addicting. I’m ready for the next!

Sunday NIGHT - I ventured into a new world of exercise. We’ll talk about that tomorrow….

Lewis Wallace at Wired (http://www.wired.com/underwire/author/lewis_wallace/) writes an article reporting Wired decision to start a campaign for candidating Internet (means each one of us being behind a PC) for Peace Nobel prize 2010 (full article at http://www.wired.com/underwire/2009/11/internet-for-peace-nobel/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+wired%2Findex+%28Wired%3A+Index+3+%28Top+Stories+2%29%29, candidate site at http://www.internetforpeace.it/manifesto.cfm).

I have contrasting feelings on this action.

Why I’m for.

• Because Internet is THE revolution of the last two centuries, having shortened distances, freed people and developed a common conscience
• Because Internet is a media of peace and of peace keeping, permitting people to share thoughts, frustrations, dreams, ideas, hopes
• Because the Nobel Prize for Peace can, finally, promote internet to a sort of new status of overnational media

Why I’m against.

• Internet is immaterial and, for itself, doesn’t deserve any merit, because are people underlying that make it a “good” or “bad” media
• Internet is not only peace.  It has inside bad feelings and habits, like everyone of us.
• Because there are a lot of people more real than internet that deserve an help both as a prize and as money and associated visibility

At the very end, I decided to support the campaign because I hope, like Obama’s prize was this year, that this candidation will be a signal of hope for our world.

This post as a comment also at http://www.wired.com/underwire/2009/11/internet-for-peace-nobel/comment-page-1/#comment-41599

part of what should become a series of pictures on intimacy.

There are things we think will never change.

The staples of our lives that feed our souls.

The certainty of love.

Our children’s footsteps in our heart.

Parents there to always welcome a return.

I have a friend, a confidant,

            who through the years was there to share in laughter and in sorrow.

Two lives entwined, story written on unending pages of a journal.

             Scripted by a destiny we could not control.

I never paused to visualize a time without her.

The friendship enduring.

A safe harbor through all storms.

Glistening when clouds lifted in the early morning sunlight.

Life has now chosen distance

            as points for us.

Is the world as small a place as others

            lead us to believe?

Does friendship change with distance?

Or is a distance in miles not a distance in the heart?

Having once written on the pages of my soul,

Heartstrings provide the vibrato.

Our stories having been written.

This friendship cannot be lost.

But can a friend?

Ray Brown

“Are you going to phone me?”
“But you hate talking on the phone.”
“….But I want to speak to you” [then, in a softer tone] “Please.”

I gave you a handful of reasons why you shouldn’t phone me, reasons that you’d come up with yourself:
the awkward silence; laughter and responses that came a second too late, fatigued by jet lag and timelines; delayed connections that led to strained misunderstandings; not being able to see the other person; a massive phone bill. One reason I kept to myself: hearing your voice.

“…No, just no.”

Sometimes I let you win your way and allowed you to phone me. But more often and not, the answer was no.

You eventually took my hesitance as a sign that I loved you less, that the oceans and the water between us had somehow diluted my feelings. But I never told you it was because I loved you all the more.

When a call ended, no longer could I imagine that you were only, only on your way to meet me, coming drown the road, or walking from your car. No longer could I pretend that the lapse in your response was merely a fault of the local connection. No longer could I pretend that I would see you tomorrow, perhaps (hopefully) today. Every time, when I was left holding a phone with its mocking, empty tone, all I was left with was a reminder that though your voice was a phone call away, you, yourself, were miles from here.

I wonder now if I shouldn’t have been so stern on myself, on yourself, on us. Should I have been less cautious and said Yes, phone me whenever you have time; Phone me when you miss me, phone me when you don’t; Just phone me, please? Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have worried about the way that days started to lose their colour and clarity unless I’d had an email or a text message from you- if I shouldn’t have thrown my days away with my caution. But as I’m typing this, all I need to do is to glance at my phone next to my computer, lying silent like it has been for the last few months to realize that I did the right thing. In hindsight, I prevented myself from getting hurt more than necessary. But I never did it for hindsight, I never did it for an easier afterwards. Always, always I wanted more than a voice.

“Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?”-The Time Traveler’s Wife