Monday, February 13, 2012

The day the mountain moved

All my life I had despised Valentine's Day (until last year). When I was in grade school, I hated the Valentine's Day party at school! It involved forcing myself to fill out roughly 20-30 cards with phrases like "Be Mine" and "Hug Me" to give to every snotty kid in a class full of bullies and jerks who were mean to me. It was so awkward, although I was happy to give the sentiments to my one or two cool friends. I married and became a mom at 18, and V-day was no less disastrous even then. I loathed seeing all the florists' extravaganzas, wall-to-wall candy in every store and love-themed teddy bears and gifts. Bleh! I never had anything special done for me, so I turned up my nose at it. I was the Valentine's ugly duckling.

Seventeen years later, here I am. I still dislike the man-made circus that is V-day to some degree, because it makes people nuts! It gets hopes high, pockets emptied and puts unnecessary pressure on the fellas. Throughout my single life, I swore I would never again anticipate a successful V-day or fall for just any sweet talker, but the never-say-never curse got me, and I did become a loser magnet. After my worst broken heart in 2009, I promised myself that I would not entertain anything less than what I knew I deserved, and I refused to allow myself to fall for anyone until he moved a mountain in my honor.

In January of 2011, I was fortunate enough to have met the ONE. Never thought this phenomenon was meant for me, but here came a man who contradicted all my theories about men and relationships. Of course, all my theories were based on personal experiences, and along came a whole new experience ... and a whole new theory.

He's not yet here for good, but makes me happy every single day from way across the ocean. We make every day love day, and it's not easy but even more important since we're not on the same land mass. Skype is our best friend. BlackBerry Messenger is a lifesaver. And email is the backup plan. V-day last year was a milestone for me. As I sat at my desk at work on V-day, I felt so elated that he was in my life and that he had given me a whole V-day presentation a day early. I couldn't even concentrate on work with my mind doing cartwheels and backflips, celebrating I had actually found me a winner! Then, when I thought it couldn't get any better, I got a call that I had flowers to pick up from a V-day delivery. To my shock, he had sent me flowers. All the way from Trinidad, he had outdone every guy I'd ever met. And for the first time, a mountain moved in my honor. Since that day, he moves them for me all the time. I finally know what being loved and cherished feels like, and forever seems pointless without him. I don't need V-day. I got something so much better. I got him ...

I love you, Anthony. You're even better than a lifetime
supply of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Typos with benefits

Say hello to the three-toed sloth.
I have an addiction. Learning. I can't stop! Did I really need to spend 30 minutes reading about sloths? No, but I learned some fascinating tidbits. Did you know that sloths primarily live in trees and are mostly seen in Central and South America? They go to the ground to pee and poop about once a week, digging a hole and covering it afterwards. Aww, that's more than I can say about how some public restroom users handle their business! Sloths go to the same spot each time and are vulnerable to predators while going potty. I mean, who isn't vulnerable to predators while pooping? The reason they risk their safety to come down to the ground when nature calls is unknown, although some believe that it is to avoid making noise while hosing down the forest or defecating from up high, which would attract predators to their habitat when the poop splatters from the treetops. Oh, smart!

Guess what I just did. I just spoon fed you some knowledge you never thought you'd be getting from the Novellarella blog. You're very welcome. Now you know what sloths are and that they are most vulnerable when they poop. You're a more knowledgeable person than you were just minutes ago (unless you already knew that.) And please remember that knowledge is power, and use that power for good, not evil. Don't go tormenting poor innocent sloths while they poop just because you know you can.

This newfound knowledge is a rare example of how typos can be helpful. (Inject sarcasm serum here in case you don't have it au natural.) See. What happened was, I was looking up "cloth crafts," and I mistakenly typed in "sloth" (Oh, who knows! Sometimes my paws have a mind of their own.) and saw images of this exotic beast that triggered my curiosity. The rest, you already know. But even when not led to it by a typo, I like to look up random stuff and learn about them. In this case, TMI is not a bad thing.

Last week, my friend texted me saying "Ur so bubbly, u should be a pubic speaker." Oh, yea? Do I have that striking pubic appeal about me, you think? Awesome.

This typo made me giggle for a long time and rescued me from a very pissy mood. Now, I'm just as guilty as anyone else, okay. Once I texted the phrase "The cock is moving too slow today" to a co-worker who laughed at me all day and never let me forget about the slow-moving cock. Who knew a missing "L" could lead to such hilarity at my expense. I try to make sure I give my written words a proofread quickie before I actually tap that send button, because it could save you from slow-moving cocks, so-to-speak. So, what I'm trying to say is that typos can sometimes lead to knowledge. They can even make you laugh but ...


Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Being positive is tiring but worth it

 Hey, nice boots, but where's your freakin' head?
As I browsed through Target the other day, this gruesome scene grabbed my attention. Who are these women, and why don't they have arms or heads? To make it even more sickening, they have stuff sticking out of their headless necks while dressed in skinny jeans, accessories and trendy clothes to highlight the parts of their body they were allowed to have. I'm assuming this is a jewelry holder of some sort, but not one that will ever see the walls of my castle. Why would I want to hang my lovely jewelry on this scariness?

But before I spew anymore negativity upon this masterpiece of someone's brain, let me bow to the philosophy of my fortune cookie and keep the roaring positive. I had to try even harder to keep a positive attitude after seeing this horrendous commercial. It made me feel angry and burst into hysterical laughter at the same time. I was disturbed at the way she said "My PC," but that's probably because my mind resides in the gutter. Here, have a look:

That's me in a toxic mood at work after a night of no
sleep and a morning that kicked off with
an autism vs. Neesha battle.
On a seriously positive note! I have been scream-free for six days straight with the kiddo! (Oh please tell me I did not just jinx myself by saying that!) I actually got a full six hours of sleep two nights in a row. That hasn't happened in months! I'm sure the people who are exposed to my toxic mood swings every day have noticed the real Neesha is slowly resurfacing.

I'm on a mission of late! To stay sane, stay happy and make sure those around me do the same!

Thanks for reading! See you again soon.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Stress art

Hello, everyone! Today, I'm sharing something a little different from my normal posts. I took a break today from words to do something else I love - arts & crafts! That's what I do to relieve stress. I make stuff!I have a crazy amount of craft supplies. I have stuff in fancy boxes, drawers, containers, all kinds of stuff. One of my favorite things to make is wall decor, and I absolutely love to decorate a canvas! I went and pulled out a huge bag of buttons I've collected over a 10-year period and a little pack of fake fall leaves I bought in Target's dollar value section about five years ago. I used super glue, being extra careful not to glue my frickin' fingers together (came close!). I combined all that with my love for trees, and my project was born. It took me all day in the mix of mom duty and house cleaning, but here it is. Meet "Fall Away."

I named it "Fall Away." It's a collection of buttons, fake leaves and super glue on an 18x24 canvas.

Friday, February 3, 2012

The story of my dot com

I've recently been asked why I named my business The Sweet Talker, as in The answer is complex, yet simple. Being a professional writer and editor was a devious little plan I started orchestrating since I was a wee little human, sporting jelly shoes, tie-dyed T-shirts and obsessively listening to Michael Jackson's new album, Thriller. It was a rebellious scheme, I tell you! A slap in the face to my traditional East Indian-descended roots! I was supposed to be a doctor or an engineer, or even a nurse would have been acceptable, but not a ... wordsmith! NO!

Then, almost as fast as kids grow up in soap operas, within weeks I was a teenager with raging hormones and unanswered questions about life. Would kissing a boy really get me pregnant, just like I was taught to believe? I didn't want to take any chances, so I skipped the evil kissing and did other things ... Boom! Got preggo, entered motherhood at 18, got married, started college and a new job, all within months. Damn those sugar-coated words. I was misled! How was I to know "kissing" meant everything but kissing. Two kids and one diagnosis of autism later, I was living out of my folks' living room, divorced, beginning single motherhood, debt, more debt, more unanswered questions about life and depression. Clean slates aren't always totally clean. When someone is in this state of mind, sweet talk feels euphoric. A trap, indeed. I fell for all the wrong guys and ended up with an ego covered in duct tape, the only thing strong enough to hold the broken pieces together.

Over the following decade, I learned a whole lot about people. I would always fall for the sweet talkers. Some guys will say just about anything to separate those knees, and it takes a strong-willed woman to win that battle. Not all friends are genuine. I won some; I lost some. Chose to keep some and delete some. Relatives, same pattern. I saw that some would cheer me on in my face but speak differently in my absence. Another set are there but don't even acknowledge me ... until they need something. Suddenly, a small talk fiesta begins, followed by sweet talk. Again, sweet talk can lead one straight into a brick wall, if not careful.

I have taught myself not to dwell too much on people and their behavioral politics. Instead, I exercise caution, choose friends wisely, embrace all the kindness that's shown to me and give it right back. But sometimes, a display of kindness and concern is yet another trap. Like those kiosk people at the mall, they'll snatch you by the collar and drag you to their domain, if they could be sure you wouldn't punch them in the face. You're showered with compliments and then told that you would look EVEN better if you bought their lotion. In my bouts of unemployment, I found myself giving the sweet talk in the form of resumes, cover letters, applications, phone calls and interview chatter. Sweet talk is everywhere. It gets people what they want. Think about that.

I've learned to separate people in to three types:

  • The one who has a comment or complaint about everything.

  • The one who has to question everything?

  • And the aggressor who has to tell other people how ridiculous they're being and point out the obvious, not caring much whose feelings get hurt!

Which character are you?
Are you a period, question mark or exclamation point personality?
I'm definitely a period.

After all those lessons were learned, observations made and broken feelings healed, I had an epiphany one day during spring break of 2010. I found an old email from the guy who caused me the most pain of all. Every other word was "honey," "baby," "sexy," "sweetie," "babes," "love." I got so furious, I said out loud, "F***ING sweet talker!" And the imaginary light bulb appeared above my head! I hurried online to look up the name, and by the grace of Divine authority, TheSweetTalker was available in a dot-com! How was that possible with such a common phrase? I have no idea. It just leads me to believe that it was destined for me, just sitting there waiting for my moment of realization. That's how life works. People get what is meant for them. Take or leave it, that's my belief. My life has been nothing less than a legacy of proof.

So, there you have it. My dot com was born, and here I am today. I have since married a winner who treats me like the empress I am. I have the greatest friendships I could have ever imagined. I wrote my first book, a novella, hence the name of this blog. And I help people every single day to make their verbal and written communication the best it can be. I plan to save the world one syllable at a time. Thank you for joining me in this quest! =)

And as Amanda Hocking advised on Erin Burnett's show last night, "Ignore the mean people." Thanks, Amanda. Will do!

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Get money

It's February already! Can you believe it? As promised, I will kick off my February photo caption contest on Facebook. The prize is a $25 Visa gift card. Participating is as easy as 1-2-Free! You've got nothin' to lose and, at least, some fun to gain. So bring it! =)

Side note: You must be a U.S. resident to win (so I can mail you the prize if you're not my next door neighbor or within arm's reach.)

1. First, go to my Facebook business page and join by clicking

2. Get at least 3 more people to like my page, and have them write on my wall saying you sent them (so you get the credit).

(And, yes, once they 'like' the page, they can participate in the contest too.)

FREE. After you get me 3 'likes,' you can email me your photo caption entry at

I have a panel of 10 people (not including myself) who will vote on the captions, and I will announce the winner on Love Day - Feb. 14! So give it a try! You could end up $25 richer than you were before Feb. 14.

P.S. - If you get me more than 3 likes, and you end up winning ... there's a bonus prize.

I'll leave you with a sad-but-true-cartoon ...