Daniel_Dennett_on_Free_Will_Worth_Wanting

March 17 2012 On Moving Out of the House I Grew Up In

i blame asia, entirely. that home in gulshan 1. in dhaka? in the span of a month, that literally turned into home. and after india, and those "hotels," when i got homesick, i wasn't thinking about this house. as much of home, as it is. i was thinking of where my mom and dad were, and in the span of flying in and out of bangladesh, that place, became our home. that dresser in my mom's room became all too quickly littered with her make ups and creams. and i had room there too, and i didn't even have a laptop in it - but all you need is a consistent set of four walls. cause it was home. i think, even, it was harder to say goodbye to gulshan, than it is to say goodbye here.

March 8 2012 On Thinking About Explanations for Ignored Texts

March 7 2012 On Ambitions and Realities

and i realized that my whole life, all i've ever wanted to be is a role model, (someone other people would pride humanity in), and that working in retail sucks 90% of your soul, and that i will never know how to get involved with a male.

Feb 28 On Habits

i have this weird, destructive habit, of needing to go to people for advice, and then resenting them for thinking they know better than me.

Feb 27 On Emotions

i go from being up all night, to crying, to just flat out angry at anyone and everyone. i hate this shit. if i can't be zen, can i just not be, fucking hell.

Feb 26 On Dating

but he should kiss me. my insane degree of leg touching, should have told him, he should kiss me. i saw him fall in love with me once. when he said, "my favourite track off that record, actually isn't x..." and i cut him off and said, "no, i know. it's y. your favourite is y." which is not a fan favourite, it is a specific kind of person's favourite, and because i am queen, and i have him pegged, i called it, and caught him mid sentence, and he was dumbfounded, and half grinned and said, "well, yeah." i smiled back. josh said he was just being polite.

Feb 20 On Other People's Perception of Me

"also, at dinner. josh paused and said, "actually, you two are really similar." and i raised my eyebrow, and let him continue. "you're both pretty nice people, who are into culture, but also totally not into trying to be cool, so you wear all these really cool things, without the pretension, and have the worst luck with significant others, for really, no good reason..." HATE TO ANALOGIZE WITH SEX AND THE CITY, SORRY. but it made me think of that scene when carrie's asked to model, and everyone's like dooo it, and she literally seems so totally shocked, when they say she's a fashionista, or they comment on her love for fashion. there she is, with her clunky pearl necklace, hair in a bun, and she's saying, "what? me? you guys think i... strut?" yes, that's what. i wanted to say to josh. "you think i... strut?""

Feb 17 2012 On Lesbianism and Aesthetics

"like this evening. A invited me out to this weekly event that happens at the prestigious school that is mcgill. mcgill law school, though. so i went to a mcgill law school, "coffeehouse" which is a weekly thing for students feat. free beer, and gives those hard working folks a reason to blow off that sexual steam academic settings inevitably trigger (no? is that just me?). and i'm standing there, and the first thing a comments on is how thin i am. (thanks!) and she's standing there in the midst of a conversation with two girls, one shorter, french-haired girl who kept taking every opportunity to turn the conversation around, so that it would be about her. she kept whining about her recent loss from business class, to economy class, while the the taller, angelina lipped girl smiled and nodded politely. this second girl was tall and lanky, and while that is noted as awkward in this fake, structural place, we call reality - her figure and face could easily land her a million dollar gig as a runway model. i didn't know how to tell her this, seeing as how we had just meant, but i'm fairly certain my doe-eyed stares made her uncomfortable. she thinks i'm a lesbian, is what i'm trying to say. i get that a lot. and somehow, "no, you don't get it, i just REALLY love aesthetics" never comes across as believable as i hoped it would be."

Feb 17 2012 On Fame

"like the fame. the fact that every night, at right around the same time, for the rest and past of my whole damn life, i have not only imagined, but spent time, psychologically prepping myself for the fame, and the future success, and goddess i am so sure i'm going to become. i guarantee that most people have dreams of accepting oscars, or starring in a beautiful movie, but none of them take this little day dream as inconsistently seriously as i do. the last time i acted was about 4 years ago, in a stupid school play. every night, i practice monologues, in the quiet of my own room, sure, but i do not take lessons, i do not sell myself, i have no plans of moving to LA for pilot season. nothing about my "dreams" are realistic, and yet i live my whole existence with a sense of humbling superiority."

Feb 17 2012 On Writing

"aaaah, sruti. sit down. write! you're good at it sometimes."

reading through my private journal, finding gems. this one is dated feb 15 2012.

"i haven't been this, i don't now what, since high school. and isn't the best time? isn't the best time to be productive, creatively, and just explode with truths, realities of what my mother is, and what i hold on to my father being, and wrestle with identity structures that have framed my entire existence. now is the time to take this laptop, and just puke. just puke truths."

yesterday, he listed all the things he liked about me:

1.  i like how soft your lips are
2.  how soft you are
3.  you're so down to earth
4.  the way your face scrunches up sometimes
5.  you think you're weird, but you're really interesting
6.  it's so cute to hear you talk about music, i can tell you really care about it
7.  your booty

and now i'm sitting here, curiously scrunching my face in the mirror.  

WHATCHU WANT, A BARBIE?

I have this habit, actually,

of doing real good research. I wish it was a more productive skill, academically. It’s not. I don’t do it with theoretical textbooks – I do it with pop cultural texts. Especially music. My friends actually often ask me how I come to know the music, I know, or have read or seen the books and movies I’ve read and seen. And I think they ask me with the hopes of discovering the latest website, library, or I don’t know what – they’re looking for me to refer them to some magical resource center full of awesome goodies. Anyway, I always sort of shrug and say, “I dunno, I just do.” Which frustrates the hell out of them, cause it furthers my pretentious aura. Like, oh, what a rock snob, she won’t share her super secret special website that knows everything before everyone else does. The truth is, when I absorb texts, I make constant bookmarks, of the stuff the texts themselves reference as references or potential influences. It’s meta, I’ll admit. Like, I just picked up this Anniversary addition book, celebrating 60 years of Playboy or whatever. And I’ve been skimming through that, and there are TONS of footnotes to be made there. It’s kinda dangerous actually. It’s a loopy meta process, and you can find yourself skin deep in to do: reading, listening, watching, lists if you let yourself get far enough.

I built an entire college radio show around this concept actually. I’d read about all these bands and musicians I loved and admired, and every now and then in interviews, they’d refer to these seemingly off-kilter inspirations. Like, a life-changing moment for me was that time I was reading The Deerhunter Blog, and Bradford Cox posted a youtube clip of the Supremes, and he had written a note, like how he was obsessed with the beat or something. Stuff like that. Deerhunter do not sound like The Supremes, except when you think about it, and then realize they sorta do. I find that stuff fascinating. And of course I had known about The Supremes, but after that connection had been made in my brain, I went off and downloaded the whole discography of The Supremes. You read enough, and footnote enough, you end up with this concept of a radio show, that tries to merge contemporary artists and their early influences. Seemingly opposing genres, influencing the crap outta each other. I always thought that was so cool. Also, it was not dissimilar to why my friends asked me for art recommendations – they thought I had good taste. So when I read authors mention other books, or musicians mention other artists, I take those as mini-recommendations. Like oh shit, if X thinks that’s good, then it must be fucking good. You can end up in a never-ending spiral of stuff to check out if you explore shit that way. So that’s it. That’s my secret guys. How do I know about cool stuff? There’s no supreme resource center I can refer you to – I am also you. Art is a sharing center folks - I share, and am looking to discover too. <

Twin Peaks Storytellers: Angelo Badalamenti Revisits

Twin Peaks Storytellers: Angelo Badalamenti Revisits

Why I am so afraid to be by myself is bemusing.

I tried it today, for the first time in a long while.  I woke up, and clocked in a staff meeting from 8am-10am, which was painful, because I’ve been walking on a mosquitoes bite at the tip of my toe all day.  And after dealing with some emotional stuff – some unnecessarily emotional stuff, like oh God, why am I still at the same job, and everyone keeps giving me looks like they’re asking the same thing – it’s been six years, and I haven’t even tried to get promoted, using school as an excuse.  Why didn’t I lie, and work fulltime this summer and not tell them I was returning to school?  Oh right, because I’m honest, and gullible, and because if I hadn’t, I’m not sure Lauren and I would have had the greatest summer of Sruti’s life.  So I clocked in that shift, and then I carried my laptop, and bags of books over to my local, favourite café, and sit there for a while – thinking.  And what am I thinking? 

I am thinking, that this day hasn’t been funny enough.  It has been very serious, with many serious thoughts, and I have not laughed at one weird thing.  I have migrated from this café, to one where wi-fi functioned preferably, and I sat, and spent 16 dollars on lunch, a salad, and tea – 16 unnecessary dollars I do not have to spend, and bought two sandals for 10 dollars – another deal!  Of which, I still don’t have to spend.  And I aspire for great things, I assure you.  I assure myself everyday, anyways.  And online, Kevin says I’m a talented writer, and I should write more, my emotions are so alive on the pages – because I am an emotional person.  The café is sound tracked by a very typical indie-rock-ambient-fucking deep ipod playlist, which is seriously fucking me over, because there’s nothing I hate more than feeling like I’m in an indie movie.  That is like walking into an existential gateway, with every intent.  What idiot would consciously choose to question their existence, by secluding themselves in a room that highlights the little moments?  Fuck indie films.  (Not independent, I support independent films, local films, you should too – I mean, you know what I mean, Christ.) 

Why am I mad?

Even if Lauren was around, I’d be doing nothing with her all day regardless.  What difference is it, if I do nothing by myself or with someone?

Because you engage in dialogue when you are with someone, so it feels more productive.

I never let anyone else get a word in, anyways, so that’s a load of shit.

I miss Stephens.

I wonder if he knows.

This is the part where he’d say, “I’m not stupid” and my whole body would release in the tension that arises from the presumption that I actually have control over my life and it’s characters and the way they perceive and or care for me.  

And and and and and.  Leave one thing alone for once, Sruti.

I had a really great day.  I wrote, and read, and ate and sipped on delicious things.  And I bought two cute sandals for 10 dollars.  And the bite is healing, and unlike most of the people on this island, I love this heat.  And my fake boyfriend texted me back with genuine concern for the activities of my life, so maybe even genuine concern for me.  I understand completely.  It’s hard to be concerned for someone, when you’re so young, you repress your budding concerns for yourself. 

Also, I like that he thinks I don’t need him.

in the documentary about my untimely death, they will interview you in a black and white schema, and you will probably say nice things

"you ever replace the skies with the building?"

i snapped my head to gaze at him, immediately.

we were lying in the grass, stoned, and as he said this to me, i wore his eyes, like a pair of sunglasses, that had casually dropped into my palm.  they were bulky, and glittery, and violet, not rose-coloured.

"that's amazing," i said.

he remained silent.

i had ruined a perfectly authentic, and acceptable moment/experience, confusing awe, with a desire to confirm, and validate understanding.  he had to know that i thought that was amazing, that he was amazing, and he had to know what i was experiencing.  why he had to know, i will never know.  but it this desire that has carried through the conclusive ends of all of my relationships - friendships, moreover.  which is also not a fair assessment to make, as i am pretty sure i perceive everyone as a potential lover.

today, on my way out, i noticed a friend of mine, had spend the earlier half of that morning quiet.  so i said, "everything good?" and he shouted out, in the crowd, "why are you so awkward with me?" then he turned to the pretty girl in front of him and told her how nice her hair was, pointed his thumb at me and said, "she thinks i'm an asshole."  i was mortified, and a crowd was staring at me, like i was a weird judgmental, being.  it was sunday morning, and this particular boy was probably on his way to church.

may he have mercy.

from an embarrassing word document on my desktop entitled, "musings"

This summer.

Across from me, (I fear this will be the beginning of most, if not all of my entries, given the absolute fortune I have, of possessing a delightful new portable computer), sits a multi cultural couple.  Oh, what a pair.  An Asian American female, sits with an especially tight blue dress, that cuts low just enough to cup her chest.  Across from her sits a white male, who insists on taking picture after picture with her.  He is using his iphone, and since they are sitting across from each other at the table, taking a photo requires that they squish their bodies together.  The Asian American female is talking about herself a lot.  She is sharing her Asian mother’s harsh criticism, and this is making the white guy feel real uncomfortable, because he didn’t grow up with parents, who suggested their daughter get eye surgery, because their eyes were too squinty.

I am judging, aren’t I?

This summer.

But I suppose that is what I have learned.  Or at least, begun to learn about heteronormative relationship that prevails this society of ours. 

Not writing for a summer, only reminds me that I possess a poor, poor, grasp on grammar.

Nm u.

"We're literally the three best people in the world,"

he said.