boys.

PREACH

no hard feelings.

so i've been going through a shitty guilty, neglectful feeling this past week.  more on this later.  on what it means to be somebody's child.  i haven't seen my parents, and or spent time with my family in awhile.  in fact, the other day, my sister who hasn't been over for months, came over, and i holed myself up in my room the entire time.  i don't know how to talk to her anymore, ever since that incident.

but as usual, it takes a weeks worth of closing, openings, going outs, to continuously leaving the house prior to my parents waking, or get home, right after they've  gone to bed.  and then i miss them, which is always a nice reminder/feeling, given the frustration that can occur from still living with them.  so i thought this today - i miss my parents.  and then when i asked them what they did today, they told me, they basically had a family reunion.  which is obviously, generally, lovely - but personally still - it ended up just widening a gap, i was already feeling from my split-personalities.

also, i think i've given up on you.
no hard feelings.

yesterday, i was smoking with ryan, and had a revelation.

obviously.

in the same way, enough time has passed for me to officially recognize this past summer, as in the past, enough time has passed for me to recognize my trip to bangladesh/india, as also having occurred in the past.  so i found myself telling ryan all of these stories from my trip, which i'm sure i had already told him, but for some reason, i hadn't - and they were astounding stories!  totally delightful.  i had ryan on the edge of his seat at one point.  and i think it took this long for me to recognize the significance of that trip, because that's what time does.  it allows you the opportunity to recognize realities upon reflection.  and i know, there are tons of people who fly back and forth, and travel all the time, and i spent a good week of my trip following my mom around shopping, but given my particular historical context, my individual history, my subjectivity, i can officially say that trip was fucking mind blowing   and yes, i hope to go back, and no i have absolutely no regrets in going in the first place.  where ever i stand years from now (i mean, perhaps i'll become a wild traveler, who knows) - i can't ever forget this.  and i realized i can't, because i literally can't.  because yesterday, as i was telling all of these stories to ryan, they were flooding out of me, with animation, and brevity, and stimulating pauses.  i can't wait to tell you all, too.

also, i also spent the latter part of yesterday's afternoon trying to convince my classmates their dreams were possible.

"i guess we'll never know"

sometimes when i chat with my friends, i accidentally write poems about my #life

i used to

i think i sorta do

but mostly i don't

and wish i really didn't

can't wait for beyonce to incorporate this somehow

uh, can we discuss how i facebook?

steven is my friend who would understand my total hunger right now, combined with my total exhaustion to get up and make myself a sandwich.

aj is my friend who understands cool things, and who consequently loves ?uestlove.

jeremie is my friend who understands artistic authenticity, and shares a mutual love for acting.

lauren is my friend who loves NBC's friends, fresh prince, and pop cultural facts.



can't someone pay me to professionally recommend things to people, i know they'd like?  that's a job, right?  

"ok kid, you got the job."

i miss acting.

and then there are the days and hours i feel unbelievably heavy

and everyone looks at me like i bring this on myself.

i don't.

your persistance that i "should smile more" does.

fuck you.

Some people don't need that.

Supposedly, the best way to deal with things is, is to forget about them.  I find this hard to believe, and key to all infected wounds.  If you do not care to it, it will grow, and fester, and ooze out gross things.  But then again, I also have a tendency to expect and want things from a situation on all individuals participating, not just myself.  

that time solange & family was hanging out with ed droste

i'm going to get fired from a job

i should have been the one to quit after the past 5 years, aren't i?

i don't want to take away from every woman's individual authentic enjoyment of sports

because that's a thing -

but why does it feel like most girls who enjoy sports, do so, only for the sake of attracting a male?

hey, i got into cradle of filth once, with the attempt of attracting a male.

but cradle of filth sucks.

sex song #237492420

FOR ALL YOU DUDES WHO HIT ON ME AND THEN NEVER CALL ME

IN THE FUTURE, WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE?

thank you.

circa April 19, 2011, 18:16 : legit interaction with males

guy: Hey you're fun!

me: hey!
thanks..
are you spam.

circa December 26, 2010, 01:02 : today, i finally let things be, and it is slowly concluding to a goddamn good one.

awoke to scrambled eggs, coffee, and the feeling of not having to go into work on this ought-to-be-filled-with-90s-cartoons-one-saturday-morning. my sister and brother in law came over. daddy made a delicious chicken meal. we ate together. the food was really good. next thing you know we're exchanging gifts - neither of us expected as much. post dinner, while mum's infamous sweet tea settles, we all curl up under layers of blankets in the couches of our basement and big screen tv. daddy slips in a dvd sent from back home - a home recording of his two sisters (the three, are the last survivors of a family of 11 siblings) and their consequent extended family. suddenly we're observing physical land my dad owns on the other side of the world, of which, he has not visited for almost 20 years. one cute story, follows one heartbreaking one, and yet regardless, we're swimming in black and white nostalgia. the video concludes, and i'm not sure how, but it sparks one of my absolute favourite, and absolute rare activities. family discussion. an actual roundtable of opinions and thoughts. we go from sitting in fascination as my father recounts his days as a freedom fighter, to discussions on the malleable nature of religion, and how happy we are to not be fanatics. on the cusp of having looked through those magical photo albums, mommy slips a story that seems so tiny, but so empowering all at the same time. (incase you ever forget: the story of getting her drivers license, and the following phone call to daddy). it even gets to the point where i find myself giving my mother a crash course in sex ed, and no, it's not remotely awkward. because, and i'm not sure when it happened, but at some point, everyone in the family started being adult-size, and we began to appreciate this ability to talk to each other as grown ups. but i'm still sruti, and my life is still sruti, so of course the sillyness of the entire concept sparks giggling. i say, "okay well, that first part happens - you know about that right? we don't have to get into that?" and my mom's cracking up, and my dad in all his occasional bill murray hilarity, responds in this dead pan voice, and says, "I forgot" - sparking even more ridiculous laughter. and in it's regularity, there are awkward bits - but in its rarity there are no grand fights. there is simply a conversation. eventually that ends, and i'm in bed with my cheese, reading my pretentious music magazines, followed by a screening of scott pilgrim, fulfilling my nerdy quota of the day. until i bump into dad in the kitchen on a mutual midnight snack run, and i follow him down for a late night screening of sabrina starring audrey hepburn. and it's magical. i know i'm draped in perma-drama, but nothing about this is exaggerated. it was, and so i'm going to bed tonight, simply content. 

and i know, i know, going to the internet and blogging about how significantly magical your day was completely defeats the purpose of finally letting things be, but old habits die quite hard and i'm currently content enough to not mind.

circa December 20, 2010, 14:10 : i have a problem.

often enough i've succumbed to deluded teen obsessions. i think that's when they first form at their best, maybe. and from there, i guess, even growing up on the internet, i seriously know what fandom is. so every other month, i'll have a new obsession - insert various singer/band, actress, tv show, movie, clothing item, trendy concept, colour, magazine, whatever. and i, like the rest of this internet world, will sort of join in and research everything there could possibly be on that current obsession. and i have a problem. because i'm currently obsessed - i have recently developed into a huge fucking fan of, well, my family. 

that is, my family pre-me, or at the very least, the early stages of me. mostly pre-me. what you don't realize is that you have this very 'present' understanding of everything. when i think of my mom or my dad, i think of how they look now, and i also sort of don't think twice about it. that's just how they are now, and that's all there is. except for when you research, and you start going through these various 80s photo albums. i know awhile ago, i blogged sort of life summary, if you will, by virtue of these photos, but i was a little younger then, and my parents weren't as older as they are now. and now. jesus, i've been looking through these pictures, and i always knew my mom was gorgeous, (i know, i know, how awful to use that past tense, but i don't mean to belittle or insult her in that way. the fact is, she looks physically different now. she's gained a lot of weight, and is aged and as has my father, and i think honouring their youthful bodies isn't a way of shitting all over age, but of just reveling in what they once were). because that's the point. i look through all of these, and i'm introduced to them aspeople. not as my mom and dad, but as these beautiful, authentic people. and the pictures i'm looking at, most, if not all, reflect a time in which i didn't even exist in. and that concept, alone, is so goddamn mind blowing, but to realize that these people who are so inherently an aspect of the thread that is my life, existed before i did. there was genuinely a time where they didn't know me. there has never been a time where i didn't know them. this seems so absurd to me! 

so i'm obsessed. i'm experiencing genuine fandom. i'm looking at these pictures, and i cannot stand just HOW truly, deeply, painfully, oh my god, gorgeous my mother was. i can officially answer the question - who is the most beautiful women in the world? and hands down, it is my mother. no celebrity or model has surpassed the beauty i'm now obsessed with. and i know a lot of girls think they're mom is the prettiest, and as they ought to, and maybe i'm just following that mom-love path, but i honestly have been staring at her face, and wondering how we share genes. not in a self-deprecating way, just, in this awe-struck realization, that i came from her, that had we met now, i'd have a girl-crush on her, like plenty of other beautiful people. i don't know. it's so ridiculous that that is genuinely her and my mother and not my mother all at the same time.

and my father. i've always felt like my father hasn't really aged. even to this day, people are thoroughly impressed with his physical appearance considering his age, and so i always feel like he's looked this way. but he hasn't. i see these pictures and i'm very aware that he hasn't. and maybe the thing is, that i'm in my 20s, and i'm seeing my parents alive in their 20s, and i am so forever grateful to photography for that gift. and it's so heavy. i don't know how to describe it. i've always felt so detached from them in that way, not in all, but in the way in which they have always been grown up mom & dad, and not 20 year old newlyweds. and something else that is very integral to keep in mind is that they were happy. they were ignorant and happy, and it's so ridiculously beautiful to watch, i could watch it all day. for the past couple of days, i have been. i've been watching and wondering, and fucking playing with time. if this all sounds dramatic and intense, it's because it feels like this. this is a pre-sruti era. these are people i know so well, and have never met, and i'm obsessed with them. i want all of my mothers clothes, i want to meet that man that was my father and get to know him, and be his friend. and i want to play with my older sister when she was a child. and i can't seem to connect that world, and this. i'm still not sure if that's good, or bad, or simply necessary. but for now, i'm just obsessed with them.

circa December 04, 2010, 02:20 : notes from tonight i'd like to elaborate on tomorrow morning

how much of a grand dancer i am.

how fucking sweet 90s jams are, consequently making a 90s themed party the greatest idea ever.

dinner and conversation with self analytical friends rule.

boys. boy are fun to be girls in front of.

boys. boy only think with their dick, especially when they're drunk, and thus grind up all in this business. saw current crush blatantly ignore me spend a solid hour pressed up against this random girl. after which he copped a sruti feel and bounced. gross. there was the gross lagging crotch that would not go away of the first hour of the evening, and then the "omg i accidentally just made eye contact with bro he must have thought that was sex eyes" second hour, and finally the third, "this guy thinks i can dance, and maybe i'll let him grab at my waist, oh wait, no, he sucks and is gross too."

to be honest, the most thought-provoking part is having mr. brilliant peer over there pull me aside to point out how much he admired my apparent "intelligence." thoughts on how i present myself in class, or others, or whether or not intelligence can be generally calculated are stirring in my brain. and my ears are ringing, and my voice is sore, and my feet are tired. youth, out.

circa: October 30, 2010, 00:03 : i am furious!

but yet, there you are, sir Giant, guest of the evening, potential crush of my good friend, and because you've read all the queer theory there is, you feel the need to respond to every claim with antagonism, as if my entire vocabulary is intended to challenge you and your values. our dear sweet friend tries to share a story about a neurotic girl she met who after wanting to tell her she didn't need a bra in greece, then flashes said friend in a public restaurant in order to prove said fact. my friend is telling this story expecting us all to laugh in shock at the sort of ridiculousness of that situation (good or not, toplessness is usually pretty ridiculous) and when we do, you, ugh, YOU, decide to recline in your chair and say, "right onnnnnn" as if this story was remotely intended to be political. it was funny. but instead of laughing, you say, "right onnnn" forcing my sweet friend to feel bad about insinuating something in said story, when clearly this insinuation was the very intention of the story, so she fumbles and says, "i mean, yeah, totally! but like-" and have you noticed me glaring you with total annoyance yet?

--

and i'm tired of how drawn they are to all these terribly tragic lyrics, sounds, films, movies, and books - because as complicated as every individual life is (including theres, yes, i know) - i fail to see what they could appreciate about tragedy knowing so fucking little about it. and it's by virtue of these spoiled, spoiled, rotten! just rotten! eggs, that culture spawns equally terrible people like me. i am pretentious, and i do judge you, because you spend your privileged time wanting to be something i wish i didn't have to be.

circa October 27, 2010, 23:43 : optimism size

but right, the fall air is so tasty, and the colours are so vibrant! (i love walking everywhere!) and plus, it helps that i am terribly easy, so if you put that together, then why yes i will play hooky and ferris bueller my other class, so that i can help my best friend (who i hadn't seen in two weeks (!!!)) buy disgustingly overpriced (read: fucking nice) shoes, and then buy $5 second hand trouser pants (they make bums look so large, but seem so ladylike, i don't know, i don't know, problems, problems... nope, not even a little bit. not even at all.). so we ditch, and get delicious beverages, and laugh, and talk, and update each other on our still very much shared lives (thank goodness for technology) but feel good about you know, physically seeing each other! and we end up on university stairs, staring at really good looking people walk by, until the other members of the team exit class and come join us, and family reunion, hi! so we sit and giggle and do all those stupid things i hope people do more often with the one's they love. i'm so over this 'independent' bullshit. just constantly surround yourself with funny people. why wouldn't you?

there's time for my favourite burgers, benches in downtown parks, and birdhouses hanging over us in the middle of this little metropolis of ours. and at some point, we're all catching ourselves smile, because it really has been so long, but one by one, someone's gotta go, until it's just me and the equally sensitive one. when the last one leaves, we're standing on the same steps we started with, and he turns over to me and says, "so, here we are." and i say, "so we are, kid." and i am so incapable of being tolerable! not that that's a bad thing, but i am so consistently brimming with thoughts and feelings and i mean, that works well with this one. but it's still strenuous. mighty. leaden, if you will. and obnoxiously twenty. even when i meet new people i don't have much interest, because really i just want to say, "nice to meet you, so death? isn't that ridiculous! what are your thoughts??" all i think about is dying tomorrow and how much that reminds me how much i love you, things, it - even when i'm bubbling with anger, and THEN, i end up bitching to him about, "'zen' whatever the fuck that means, and that you need terrible things - you can't be zen while simultaneously acknowledging the ridiculousness of civilization, and you need to acknowledge that it is ridiculous, and you need to be upset that babies are dying for no reason, and you need to feel lonely, you need anger, frustration, resentment, and to be fucking human, or else you'll never want to be anything worthwhile, because... well, because... "it's a good fight, buffy, and i want in.""

yes.

circa September 17, 2010, 20:34 : my life is a movie.

in highschool, my close-to-retirement history prof once stopped a lecture to say, "dysfunctional family? find me thisfunctional family." this moment could have been in my movie too. a sort of comforting light flickered out of my oversized clothes, my angsty hair, and the rest of my teenage aura. right. yes. everyone goes through shit. all the 'art' i became interested in, music, film, television, books, what the fuck ever - my favourite stories were the ones where people faced their life in fucking shambles. and this early, not selfless, but very un-selfish, realization that you should not judge your shit as worse than others, might be what's responsible for my current, abnormal, wise, adult-like attitude. and maybe this is how i came to think i could change this family, from it's freudian complexities, and it's cultural value, and all the wrong words that meant to say love, but never fucking did. 

the other day, i had a terrible thought. fuck i can never just say what happened without telling you why it happened because it all feels so goddamn integral to me. anyway. i don't know. at some point in my earlier adolescence, i decided to start smoking, probably to be cool more than anything else. and it turns out i had a lot of anxiety in me too, and i was convincing my stupid little brain that these cancer sticks made me feel better (did i mention i have a terrible fear of cancer?) and so i smoked. like a pack a day. like in my bathroom, with a hot shower and the windows opened, because my parents would blow their shit if they found out. and then one day, i must have realized i was happy, or something. because i started to freak out about the end. like, end, end. life end. what happens when you die? and after reading the briefest paragraphs on all these complex religions, i decided we were all probably going to go into nothingness. death was nothingness. and this shit freaked me out. but because i didn't think about it, the unfortunate way i looked at it, was that my consciousness was going to exist or whatever, and this consciousness was going to be stuck in a black space. this seemed to be nothingness, and that sounded fucking brutal. so in this way, the end sounded fucking brutal. and also, have i mentioned how terrible i am with endings as is? i can barely get through a season finale, let alone a series finale, let alone, fucking death. so i freaked out, and i stopped smoking, and i was sure that the goal was to live forever. and life went on, and things were good, and bad, and great, and awful, and everything it's supposed to be. 

i dismiss my fear of cancer, because a couple years ago, i realized the meaning of my life was to someday have children, and i started living for these unborn children. i started being this kind, forgiving, and loving person, and it was working out great, and now i think that no matter how much you try, you're just a number, and i guess, i dont know, i don't see these unborn children in my future. so why give a shit for them? it's not they probably wont happen. it's not that, i'm tired of being so fucking wise. i've been alive for two decades, and i already have more balls to be brave for my (non-existent) children, than your average fuck up does. it is fucking exhausting to think like this, and so i dismiss my fear of cancer. it is exhausting to do the right thing, to even know what that is, when i have no reason to believe it makes a difference.

circa August 24, 2010, 09:59 : and i've been 'fessing double fast, addressing questions nobody asked

i keep doing sruti things, like buying sruti dresses, sruti books, and listening to sruti music.  but then i keep saying these terrible un-sruti things.  i get so mean.  and i guess it's comforting that being this virulent feels so unnatural of me.  i don't recognize myself as this hard shell.  i spend too much time of my life giggling for this to feel remotely fitting.  yet, i insist on bullying the ones i like instead of the ones i don't.  i stiffen up when old friends put their arms around me, and i say things like, "fuck everything."  and i smile and bite my tongue, and say, "right, right" when i want to say things like, "this is fucking ridiculous.  fix this."

but my mom still comes into my room perpetually worried about my ever stable (ha) health.  her first thought after her eight hour work shift returns to our early morning conversation about the lack of results from a blood test.  and the idea that i know a person that fills this title of a mother, and that this mother's first concern is my health, is exactly the kind of thing that suggests that i'm still living sruti's life.  wherever she is.

today my sister bumped into an early religion teacher.  also known as one of my first experiences with anomalies.  this is a woman who comes from the same culture i do.  a woman draped in a permanent sari uniform, both, emphatically denying and yet emphatically implying her secularism.  and when this woman asks how i am, my sister says, "she's good.  she's fasting."  this woman grimaces.  she has always wanted me to take my black eyeliner and angrily rebel like i adolescently threatened to.  i used to be that kind of a person.  i no longer have any desire to fight anyone.  even the ones that i know are so terribly wrong.  now, i have recurring dreams where i find domesticity tied up in a bow, sitting under my bed.  it smells like the cosby show.

and here's this thing, whatever it is.  i'm not embarrassed by these thoughts, but they're not the sort of thing you tell people.  so i'm thinking back to this weeks mad men episode and don's going, (paraphrase coming,) "why does everyone insist on talking about things?" and she shrugs and says, "i don't know, but for whatever reason they feel a little better after they do."

so what's that saying?  that this self indulgent analysis is remotely progressive?  is it?

probably not.
but i'll tell you anyways.

good lord, i am lonely.

.

wore a backless bodysuit to work today.

(and pants.)

co-worker asked me if i was wearing a bra? i said no. she paused and said, "that's impressive."

preach

i always, always return here. always.

how many mores times

am i gonna be able to confidently tell other people, they are going to be okay - with such confidence, and assuredness - before i am able to tell myself, in the same way?

never say i don't give you the details

it is amazing, to take your real life experiences, and then frame them, using both, constricting, and liberating, online paramaters.

my perception of my own life changes drastically.  it transforms from an IRL feeling - one in which i feel inadequate about both the space and time i occupy, into an OL feeling - one in which I am reminded of the rich conversations, people, and experiences, I have the honour of knowing.



from:

existential crises


to

being awed

from

burgers and smart girls i get to call friends


to

attending a 40 year old house-party, wherein a goddess of a mother/rock-journalist/clinical-psychologist, DJS


from

girls night #7204723042


to

late night pool parties


from

a scene straight outta, Girls, or it's eventual spinoff - Blissful Youth:


to

summer


from

reading the sign that says, "no getting weird in the pool"

women who think they have too many high expectations of men? shutup. men, have too many low expectations of men.

there used to be a time

when i would long for real life experiences.  i would romanticize the crap out of life, outside of the borders of my room.  inside, i would have mini dance parties, by myself, in the middle of the night, with my headphones, and fresh, pink ipod.  but i'd watch way too much tv, and assume that, "in the real world" there was all of these experiences, i would want.  i remember once, when it first began, the musical growth, really - a man, who we will forever refer to as a hero of mine - he participated in these late "concerts" if you will, while i downloaded the live recordings.  i remember writing something about this then, and whatever journal i kept around at that time.  and there was a specific song.  and the first 4 beats of that song, instantly overwhelmed me with nostalgia.  for no real good reason.  it just instantly reminded me of being out, in the downtown streets, late at night.  that's how overprotected and naive i was.  and the song gave me chills for that world, i thought i'd never know.

all this to say, that a lot has changed.  i am more than familiar with 4am downtown, by now.  in fact, this very evening, i come to you, having just attended a seriously, cool, fashion show, in a cool, warehouse, with cool dressed people, and a very cool atmosphere.  and now i'm in my bed, thinking, and nibbling on cheese.

those first four beats of that song don't scare me so much anymore.  in fact, now it reminds me of high school play practice.



and this?  this was an immediate, gut-one.  yesterday?   yesterday was eye opening, and fucking scary.  very fucking scary.  

my best friend and i's favourite professor is telling me things today,

"what do you feel, when you have a problem?"

"you don't want the conditions in front of you to be there. you want the solution."

"you have a desire to replace something in front of you with something that is yet to come"

good to know, internet.

"If You are Currently in A Relationship, Ladies ....

coffeemusicandinfinitemoments:

I regret to inform that NBA 2K13 has been released. It is important you stick with him through this difficult time. Symptoms include lack of concentration, extreme laziness and broken promises."

your tits may be bigger

but mine are cuter