Calling All Humanitarians...

So folks, I know it’s been a while since I last blogged, a little more than a week but things have happened.  First, work decided to wallop me upside the head and make me its slave reminding me of that old song lyrics ‘she works hard for the money’.  Yea, well I’ve ever last darn red cent, I’ll tell ya what! Second, Eid-ul-Adha arrived in a glory of goat guts and family time and plenty of yummy food.  And then to top it all off, we’re welcoming Sandy into our shores.  Not only welcome, hell we’re embracing her (even if we don’t want to) in panicked fury of water, bread and tuna can gather-ing, laying bare all grocery shelves.  I had half a mind to take a picture of my local grocery store and it’s craziness but I was too busy getting bread *winks*

Most of you probably already know what’s happening here on the east coast of the USA, and if you don’t, seriously crawl out of your caves.  This is pretty nerve wrecking stuff.  We’ve been through a few hurricanes before, I recall staying up all night peering outside at this gigantic tree I was sure would topple onto our house back during Hurricane Isabella, but this…this thing is a monster.  And yes media did its part in instilling a serious sense of mania but at the end of the day I’m glad because we east coasters tend to be know-it-all arrogant gits who think nothing can touch us…um year right.  So sure we were running around like chickens sans heads but shoot that at least saved many lives and kept people out of the way.

This is what we’d been hearing…3 storm cells converging to become one of the biggest hurricanes to ever hit the east side of the country.  Okay, I don’t know about y’all but this fact does not give me the warm and fuzzies at all.    I keep having flashbacks to that disaster movie “Day After Tomorrow”, you know the one with Denise Quaid who predicts extreme weather due to mankind’s negligence of the environment…global warming at its best.

Naturally the fact that this thing, Sandy, is bearing down on us and that the focus is going to be NYC/NJ makes me slightly relieved for myself but still plenty frightened for those who will face the wrath.  Truly my prayers are with anyone experiencing this for themselves.   Let me tell you, this is not fun folks.  I don’t care who you are or where you are, the fact is any natural disaster is not fun.  Some people down in Florida or Texas are probably laughing their butts off and wondering what the hell the big deal is, they’ve been through worse with much more aplomb and a lot less fuss.  But I think that those people fail to understand that this situation is very bizarre for us.  We’re frankly not prepared for something on this scale and when you couple our arrogance with a densely populated are full of glass and sea level living…well “hello FEMA”.

1000 miles round this thing is bearing down on us with a growl and like the big bad wolf, it’s intent on blowing us little piggy’s houses down.  Right, I’ll write more later because I need to go stand dangerously close to a window K

Okay so now here I am post storm and I am happy to report that my home is safely still on its ground soaked foundation, basement excess moisture free and miracles of miracles, none of my family managed to lose electricity.  That in itself is a stupendous awe-inspiring fact.  But for all the blessings of course I’ll have to find something to complain about.  We did manage to lose our internet and cable.  Hello…has anyone ever had this happen?  It’s TERRIBLE.  I mean cripes it’s like being blind in the dark with a blindfold in a knife factory with exposed sharp edges (dramatic, ain’t i?).  How the heck did we live without such luxuries before?!?!  Good thing in such emergencies my brain functions in panic but reasonable mode and therefore I remained glued to my phone piggybacking off wifi for the rest of the night.  Crisis averted.

But waking up the next day I realized two things once my cable was up and running:  first, our house is (mashAllah) sturdy and we were damn lucky.  Second, Sandy, although not as damaging in the DC/Balto metro areas as originally predicted, had packed quite a punch and had created all sorts of havoc (I learned this of course as soon as I was reconnected) further north. 

I watched in horror and fascination as I saw towns drowned, the very familiar and beloved Atlantic City boardwalk torn to shreds, pictures of NYC’s subway tunnels submerged in salt water and people on the streets looking resigned.  Mayors, senators, congressmen, the pres were everywhere showing sympathy, surveying damage, at least appearing terribly sad and giving hope to those who needed it more than anything else at that point.  I clicked onto FB and saw funds being raised for victims of the hurricane.  I heard on news radio as I was on my way in to work today where one woman said to the senator of her state ‘Senator, I’ve lost everything’.  And imagined what it would be like to utter those words and mean them.  Let me assure you how vehement my prayer of thanks to God was at that moment. 

And this is the realization that came to me, the thoughts I truly want to share:

Seriously people, let’s focus on our blessings for a change, can we?  I mean okay so the elections are going on here in the states (which is seriously unavoidable and rather exhausting) and it’s hard to find something good when all that’s being rammed down our throats are nothing but negatives.  I mean heck I wonder if anything positive has happened in the last 12 years K  because as far as the politicians are concerned, nope, not a damn thing.  Sure they talk about recovery or making things better, giving Americans food for political thought as campaigned after disgusting negative campaigned abound everywhere stuck to our doors, littering our lawn, bombarding our television watching…but here’s the thing, sometimes, just sometimes can we focus on other things?  Argue with me that this is important, the election of our next president is very, very significant and I won’t disagree but this is not the end all and be all to our existence right now.  There are other things happening.  This is just but a part of what is going on in our day-to-day lives, right?  Am I mistaken? 

Like, for instance, can we focus on the fact that we were given wonderful beating caring squishy hearts and thus should be able to utilize it bye allowing to feel pain and sympathy for our fellow human?  Can we cross over borders and boundaries?  Can we leap over political alliances and forget confusing facts and figures to only concentrate on the hurting and misery on our neighbor?  This storm wasn’t just a simple ‘superstorm’ it was in fact (for me if not for anyone else) a reminder that there are bigger things in the world to worry about other than which president we’ll be voting into office and who is lesser of the two evils. 

Let’s agree on one thing, November 6^th will be here sooner than later whether we like it or not, and someone (either it be Obama or Romney) will be voted our next Commander-in-Chief and that person will take office, simple.  The other straightforward fact is that our day-to-day lives will not change immediately post-election, it will not alter, and it will not become either fantastically awesome or stupendously bad due to the man in the oval office.  Life will, for the most part, actually remain the same.  Most of the political issues that we are concerned with today will slowly manifest itself with time, not instantly.  And if you think otherwise, sweethearts go smell the varnish and wake yourself up.  Oz isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, in case you didn’t realize and the Wizard was a short man who stood behind a curtain and talked in a very booming intimidating voice and blew a lot of smoke.  Hello, sound familiar?

Anyhow, focus folks, really focus.  Stop worrying about what Romney said or what Obama did.  How about getting off your tush and going to help someone who needs it?  Lend a hand to the food banks, or help a fellow citizen of the world salvage themselves?  If nothing, log onto some charitable website to give some money to those who at present have nothing (even though I know money right now is tight for nearly everyone). 

Have you ever really given thought to how horrible the word “nothing” truly is?  Nothing, not a thing, nada, zilch, zero, zippo.  I just did a total mental “yikes” at that reflection, how about you?  Do you have the capacity to understand what that concept truly means?  To be able to say that you have not one single thing to your name?  How about this…since the day of the storm, have you stopped to consider for a moment about how it must have felt for those folks who were most affected by Sandy to watch water rush into their homes while they are unable to stop Mother Nature?  Watching possessions being swept away, precious memories being taken from right under their nose and that too not by some thief in the night?  Have you sat and pondered it?  Does the enormity of what they face overwhelm you even slightly?  Does your squishy heart ache a bit?

Yes, of course we can breathe a sigh of relief and mutter thanks to whomever, whatever you wish that you are safe, your family is safe and that your possessions are also safe and that some of us averted the brunt of Sandy’s wrath but you know what, if we averted, someone else shouldered. 

Mother Nature didn’t seem to care about our elections, about the demos vs. the repubs, the rich vs. the poor…no she pretty much declared in a loud and windy bellow ‘I trump you all’ and put us back into our places.  So let’s do that okay?  Let’s focus and elect the darn president and move the heck along…let’s be humans again okay? 

Total side bar:  While you’re thanking your creator (or whoever/whatever) for the blessings that were imparted upon you please do say a prayer for those folks in India who are now facing Typhoon Nilam.  For us in the east, we should have a great bit of sympathy for what they are ‘weathering’ and keep in mind that if we had it bad, they’ll have it worse just considering the sheer size of the poor populace there who live in nothing more than tin roofed homes. 

The Day-to-Day Life of Me - Total Bummer

Originally in FaceBook I was writing ridiculously long status message updates reflecting what was generally going on in my life, something humorous, silly, funny (wait that's the same as humorous right?), sad, truthful, introspective, yada yada yada...and it seemed as if there was definitely an audience who appreciated my ramblings.  Emboldened, I kept on writing till the day came that my eyes crossed from the length of the posts and decided to transfer all these 'blog style' status updates to here and this was pretty much after I found my 'voice'. 

What is this 'voice'?  Well it's basically that thing which reflects your inner voice, which represents you as a writer.  Fancy, huh?  Who knows, could be a bunch of hooey that I've just made up but I like to believe I have some sort of depth of character or soul and that indeed I have found my own voice and it was located through those ridiculous updates on FB.  After some thinking I came to realize that may be, just may be people where a bit curious to know whether my experiences as a brown person was in any way, shape or form different from theirs (a statement that has been repeated so many times it makes me slightly ill to even type it so I can't imagine how many of you are rolling your eyes going 'yeah yeah yeah we get it, different color, different experiences, blah blah blah, move on and get to the point!').  Before I knew it even, this blog was created awaiting words to populate the space, hopefully interesting enough to generate readers.

But this morning as I drove in, I realized I had a slight problem.  I started to wonder if it would it be okay to speak of my general every day life humdrum existence which in certain situations would be completely unrelated to this blog or the purpose behind it?  Life isn't all about constant comparisons of difference with same-nesses...most of it is really boring and banal.  We go through every day with not much to note about it so when we do have something, anything, they become the stories that we tell to friends during happy hours, at the dining table with our family, gossiping on the phone with our best friend.  Frankly I find those things very amusing and if nothing they can definitely bring a wry smile in a day that was super unsmileworthy (no that's not a word but for the purposes of my world, it is now). 

Hurrying down the street towards work (seriously when am I not hurrying?), I was pondering this issue when something happened that made the decision for me.  I can only be me which includes relating ridiculous events that happen to me on a normal basis.  Now here I am writing a silly long explanation to what I'm about to narrate *smh*

Let's go back to me hurrying to work, tottering on heels that clicked far too loudly due to the exposed nail at the bottom, hair in some semblance of style (okay I'm stretching that claim a bit, it was (and is) really a mess) and the ever present 20lb bag swinging madly from the crook of my arm.  I'm chanting to myself 'please let no one be looking for me, please let no one be looking for me' even as I speed up.  I'm half way to the office building when a bum (yes and we know how much this city full of bums seem to love me) says in a perfectly well modulated voice "hello miss, may I speak to you for a moment?"  I shoot him an apologetic look, a half smile and say in as upbeat of a voice as I can "I'm sorry, I'm rushing."  I know I even sound appropriately breathless.

Honestly though, would I have stopped to have a casual chitchat with him if I had the time?  No, I admit this (with a twinge of guilt).  It's sad too because who knows, may be he could have taught me something, shown me something (get your minds out of the gutter), enlightened me somehow in the ways of life.  Possibly I missed out on a golden chance to become better than the rest, more open minded with a fantastic 'above it all' attitude but even as these thoughts flashed through my head, I heard him as clear as day "Oh so you think you're too good to talk to a black man or is it because I'm homeless?  You think you're s#@% don't stink?  Oh I get it...you B#&#&."

Right, guilt over. 

A Step Back into Valentines Dreams Shattered

My last post spoke of childhood so let me expand upon that a bit.  Not every post will tie in the whole ‘brown girl growing up in a white world’ thread but I would like many of you to read this and can think to yourselves ‘oh wow, so she went through that also?  Hmmm,’ hopefully this will prove that we are all the same regardless of color, race, creed, religion, geographical location, etc. (not to discount the fact that I probably did face things that many did not which hopefully makes this blog interesting to read because honestly where would the fun be in just basically telling you what you already know, right?).  Sounds like some sort of speech I’m about to launch into about equality and all that?  No, there are learned folks out there with fancy degrees who can speak far more eloquently about such things then me.   I’m really just trying to shed light in my own way.  Someone asked me if I thought I’d change the world by sharing my experiences and thoughts, whether I could somehow open people's minds and hearts.  I didn’t realize that’s what I was trying to accomplish with my writing.  It’s funny how people see a loftier cause in all things while you’re simply trying to share a bit of you. 

So anyhow, here we go:

The child that you read about in the last post, she was very dear to me.  Sounds silly no?  I mean she was me and yet I’m almost writing about her in a 3^rd party perspective.  But in ways she is almost a stranger, a better part of me.  She was wide-eyed and optimistic about life.  She didn’t see those varying colors in skin; she didn’t understand the differences between how she looked as opposed to how her best friend looked.  When she laughed, it was the laughter that came from the heart.  Where for the most part she was content with a bar of chocolate and cartoons, there were other times when harsh reality would set in and teach her that life was in fact not so easy or simple. 

As a very young child I didn’t see color but as I grew, my subconscious started to accept that there were indeed differences but these were not lessons learnt easily, they were in fact quite heartbreaking.

Do any of you recall Valentines Day in grade school?  I recall it with clarity.  I was in 3^rd grade.  For weeks our teacher prepared us, giving us brown paper bags and having us decorate them and told us that we would be propping them on the corner of our desks so that we could receive valentine’s cards from our classmates.  I loved to color and draw so I employed all my creative artistic skills to the task at hand while cutting out pink and red hearts from soft construction paper with dull rounded scissors and glued them on with Elmer’s glue (that magical stuff which if you put onto your palm and let dry, you could peel off in one large hand imprint).  I took such pride in how pretty my bag looked with the addition of glitter and markers.

After school I dragged my mother to Caldor (for you younguns, that store was equivalent to Walmart) and spend a great amount of time in thoughtful contemplation before choosing just the right cards, buying an extra box ‘just incase’.  And gosh how much time I had spent in perfectly printing each child’s name, mentally going down the aisle of the classroom so that I left no one out, even those certain ‘yucky’ boys that I knew I still had to give a card to.  This was back when we were not required to give everyone a card, but just that my mother said it would be the right thing to do.

The morning of, I woke up jittery with excitement, picking the perfect pink outfit (and mind you for a child who abhorred wearing dresses that was something) which I willingly donned and rushed into my mother’s bedroom only for her to stare at me in shock.  My hair was done and then redone (by still quite a shell shocked mom) upon my insistence and off I went to school clutching a bag full of cards.  I didn’t care that my shoes were too tight and uncomfortable or that the lace at the color of my dress itched.  I was just pure excited about the party.

The day of classes were agony as all we could seem to do was talk about what was to come.  Even during lunch there was nonstop chatter.  Some girls were excited at the prospect of receiving cards from the boy they seemed to like but I was not one of those girls.  My general mentality regarding boys was that they were creatures you bested, not giggled at so I didn’t participate in any of that conversation.   Even to this day, I don’t know what had me so thrilled about this particular holiday at that time in my life.  I can’t recall any of the later valentines, but that one…well you’ll see why I remember it. 

At the much awaited time for the party we were all asked to put away our books, clear our desks and put the lovingly made paper bags at the left top corners of our work spaces.  I so plainly recall the red Kool-Aid making an appearance, cookies shaped like hearts and pink frosting coating them would manifest itself on a huge round black plastic platter and 2 bags of silver Hershey kisses coming out of our teacher’s drawer. 

As she (our teacher) and her assistant poured the small Dixie cups full of red liquid happiness, we were instructed to go around the room and deliver our cards.  I was so excited as I diligently placed one in each and every persons bag.  I tried not to grimace as I dropped them into any one of the boy’s bags but I was taught not to hurt anyone’s feelings so I had to do what I had to do.

Then it was time to partake in the sweet treats which we did so with veracious appetites while the room was practically abuzz with children’s laughter and random chatter.  I remember nibbling a sugar cookie as my eyes scanned the paper hearts strung from the ceiling, the festoons of pink and white swathed across the windows to the left and big fat colorful cartoonish cupid plastered to the inside of the door.  But soon I was ignoring all that when my teacher called for us to open our bags full of cards.

So there are pivotal moments in life, moments you don’t easily forget.  Those are the ones which you do not really connect to how you will be shaped later on in life, not at the moment in which it’s all happening.  I most certainly didn’t know then that that’s precisely what that Valentines would become for me.  A life shaper.

I reached for my bag with all the excitement of a child and even as I vaguely acknowledged others pulling out fistfuls of small white cards (even some candy) from theirs, my eyes eagerly looked into mine and I saw…5.  In a class of nearly 15 kids, I had received 5.  Hopeful that someone else would have gotten as few as me, I glanced around but no, everyone had far more than 5.  And I knew without opening those cards who they were from for I had only about 5 girls I could say in that class who would talk to me (not friends, but would talk to me). 

All that pink and white beauty from moments before, the wonderment of it all faded in a flash.  I was left with 5 cards that represented much more than just 5 people liking me, it was 9 people who did not like me even the slightest bit to give my feelings a second thought.  The tears also came naturally but I blinked them back determined not to show weakness.  To be honest by that time I had already experienced much heartbreak due to such rejection (although not identical) so I had almost perfected the art of not crying…almost.

I sat with eyes shimmering with tears, avoiding meeting the gaze of others while carefully opening each card (hunkered down in my seat hoping that my very existence would suddenly vanish).  I could have gotten through that moment just fine simply thinking to myself that things like this happened, kids were mean, but then, the ultimate in adding insult to injury.  A boy, a repulsive repugnant little snot-nosed bully of a kid who unfortunately sat right next to me leaned over and said in a real loud voice ‘you just got 5 cards <insert barking laughter here> may be it’s because you smell like spices, no one wants to get near stinky girl.”  <Insert more rude horrible laughter here>

Not before that instant had I considered it was…because I smelled of anything other than soap and water and child sweat, but this kid basically laid it down for me.  I smelled like spices?  That’s why I received only 5 blasted cards?  And why did this surprise me really?  I knew that many laughed at me because of how I looked or what I ate or what I wore.  I had heard snippy comments regarding this alleged ‘spice’ fragrance that seemed to emulate from my being.  At that moment I thought I must be like Pigpen from The Peanuts cartoon, someone who walked around in a cloud of (instead of dirt) masala.  I went red and unable to maintain my aplomb a moment longer, I ran for the bathroom.  I sat there for at least 15 minutes on the toilet crying.  No one came after me, not even my 5 friends but I hadn’t expected them to.

After a while, my teacher came to ask if I was okay, I told her I had a tummy ache and she seemed to buy this story.  Luckily the party was at the end of the school day so I was able to escape with the loathed bag of 5 cards clutched in my hand.  I met up with my brother at the corner and we walked home the rest of the way together and of course he didn’t notice anything wrong.  My mother was there to greet us at the door bombarding me with gentle questions about the party and did I get lots of cards and did the other children love the cards I gave?  I answered her with as much truthfulness as I could muster then made an escape to my room. 

Once there, I stripped off my dress and I still recall holding it to my nose and sniffing it like a maniac, turning it around and around.  Nothing, no spices.  Next I pulled my hair out of its two pigtails and held the ends to my nose, still no masala.  I grabbed all those clothes and shoved them into the hamper, flung the bag of cards disgustedly into the back of my closet, grabbed a towel and marched into the bathroom to scrub myself raw.

From that day on, I was maniac about taking a shower in the morning, putting clothes away so they were not exposed to the air and closing the bedroom door while my mother cooked.  I never told her or my father about that day, and if they read this now they’ll probably be surprised.   But I’m glad I’m finally putting this down to be honest because at the end of the day, what that experience taught me was that no matter how I didn’t look at the world in colors, others most certainly did see me that way. 

Now, don’t feel bad for me or her, she had to go through what she went through to become the woman I have become.  I have no regrets although if I ever saw that punk kid again who ratted me out, I swear I’d beat the snot out of him.

FB Blog Past - General Every Day

Here are a series of shorter blogs that I was requested to post as well...

September 25, 2012

As usual I was slugging into work this morning muttering my every day prayer that traffic would be light and then subsequently cursing because of course in this area it NEVER is but praying nonetheless hoping that one day God would take pity. Choosing to adopt the same look as everyone else so I can truly feel a part of society, I allowed the glass-eyed 'what am I doing out of bed and is this really my life' look to fall into its usual place.

I listlessly dragged my feet down the crowd-ish streets of DC, sighing mournfully as I hauled my 20lb purse (and seriously what the hell is it with women and purses anyhow? Why can't we just carry a damn wallet around like men and NOT feel as if the world is ending without our mascara and lip-gloss?...oh yea that's cause we're women and awesome...but I digress) and clutching my java as if it were a darn life line while heading towards the building that will most certainly house me for the next 10-ish hours.

Just as I was fantasizing about turning around and going home to snuggle under the covers, I felt a breeze brush my face, ruffle through my hair and I heard something strangely familiar but unidentifiable. Without warning my lips curved upwards as I tilt my face into the slightly cold nippy air as if to catch soft spoken words. It was fall. Fall came whispering to me of autumn leaves, hot cider, pumpkin patches, chubby cheeks under (slightly) spooky costumes with eager smiles, the smell of apples baking in flaky crusty shells and the utter childish comfort of warm blankets and cozy sweaters. Suddenly the morning didn't seem so horrible.

Yes, fall my friend, thank you for that and welcome back. I missed you.

September 25, 2012 Part 2

Why is it that the Starbucks lady was able to get right the order of a "Grande skim latte with two shots of espresso and blah blah blah (Like I could remember the rest even if my life depended upon it)" at the first go from the annoyingly skinny chick in front of me who persisted talking with her friend on the phone WHILE practically shouting out her order in a fairly quiet business establishment (startling a dozing baby who was napping in her stroller a few feet away...true story), but couldn't get my 'sweetened iced tea' right? She asked me 5 times what my order was, much to my shock and frustration. I wanted to ask her if it was necessary for me to add a few more nonsensical unnecessary fancy terminologies to my order so that she would have no problem in understanding me. I held back I'm glad to say.

September 26, 2012

I think today I'm in another sort of forgiving mode.

I got to work this morning with enough time to nearly skip to Starbucks for my java fix, gleefully contemplating all the way what I would order (and trying to not do what the anorexic chick from yesterday did..."blah blah blah..." coffee woman, its coffee). Normally I'm rushing and reduced to imbibing in the crap stuff that they call 'coffee' at the office but not today...no sir, today it would be the good stuff. I approached the store and was relieved to note that there was no obnoxious line spilling out into the pavement so I flung open the door (with too much zest because I nearly bashed myself in the beak) and was a bit taken aback by at least 30 folks milling around waiting for their order (that too in various states of annoyance). I think to myself "great" and proceeded to line up.

With patience and a smile I placed my order and stepped aside. After a long bit (where I was doing some breathing exercise closely resembling labor breathing in order to control my temper) they called my order. I thought 'not bad' and moved forward but not fast enough apparently because I was totally blocked (and that too by a be-suited bald dude who had a big gamin grin and was far too upbeat for my taste so early in the morning) and the hot liquid nectar of life was swept right from under my outstretched fingers. I stood stunned trying to reason that possibly he had ordered ahead of me and that I should just wait my darn turn but what were the chances he'd have the same exact order (I know there are perfectly good chances of this happening but hey it's early, I'm heading to work and I want to be unreasonable)?

So I scuttle to the chick behind the counter and murmur that I had the same drink and she realizes that in fact I did and that he had usurped my goods. I turn to look (not glare I swear) at the guy and he already has his lips firmly in place and gives me this sort of shrug and a wholly unapologetic look but says 'wow, I think I have yours'. I think 'no shit Sherlock, you are a genius' but instead say 'oh it's okay, I'm not rushing, she'll get me another one'. Which is actually true, I wasn't rushing but what the heck? Did some happy bug come and bite me in the butt that prevented me from throwing down the possessions in hands, pulling out my broadsword that is ever-present in my purse and screeching out an epic battle cry that would have curdled his very blood in-turn causing him to beg me to forgive him???? Must be since all I did was smile sweetly, sweep up the coffee that the very apologetic barista handed to me and left with a toss of my hair.

Let's see what the rest of the day brings and if this forgiving mood persists. I'm thinking no.

September 27, 2012

Okay, I declare this is my 'rant' day. Today, twice, and I repeat TWICE, I came face-to-face with some jerk who apparently doesn't believe in common courtesy. I mean I get it, women’s lib and all that; I know we asked for it but seriously where be this mythical concept of 'chivalry'? Is it truly that dead and gone and buried that holding open a freakin' door for a freakin' female who is bogged down with crap in her hands (and clearly struggling) becomes an inconvenience? I mean example, this morning I’m rushing (really is anyone shocked?) to get to work due to crawling traffic keeping me in one place on 395 for what I felt was akin to a Koon age (which I’m not sure is precisely how long but probably about as long as I always seem to be stuck in traffic). After parking everything was on fast forward. And of course I had my previously mentioned 20lb bag, coffee and a few other odds and ends I felt I couldn’t live without simply to get through the day.

I come to a door and there’s a guy ahead of me. I’m a bit relieved that I don’t have to risk dropping any one of the aforementioned items and slow down my approach to the door politely. The guy glances back, opens the door and…walks through allowing the door to slam behind me and subsequently in my face. :0| Seriously? Really? Dude. Too rushed to truly vent my anger with an outraged cry (although I did squeak in protest), I moved on. Coming to my office another gentleman (in a suit and looking quite spiffy) is ahead of me at the elevators. I’m several feet behind as he’s just getting in and instead of holding the door; he lets that slid shut in my face.

No seriously, what the heck?? I do get that we asked for liberation and to be treated like equals but please someone tell me when this precluded being polite? I can’t remember ever reading in history where we wanted to be given our right to vote and be equal to men and oh also please be rude to us and never mind about holding doors open and saying thank you because that would insult our senses and make us feel inferior. Doesn’t matter to me if you’re a man or a woman, get your head out of your butt, remember that karma is a bitch and will find you laying flat on the pavement one day because the sidewalk came up and tripped you, and hold the damn door for someone. Personally I don’t think this is asking for much. <rant over>

September 28, 2012

Last night I was sitting on the couch dozing and thinking that I really needed to take my behind to bed but negotiating the stairs seemed daunting in the face of laziness. The chances were I would fall asleep on my way to the bedroom, most likely on the stairs; therefore the safer bet was to just stay on the sofa like the potato that I must have resembled. P tried to cajole me to move but I blatantly ignored him, sniffing in response to any pleas and aimlessly flipping through channels. Just as I was happily sliding into that space between slightly conscious and passing out, a loud sound literally jolted me up into a fully sitting position. My heart raced, I felt totally disorientated and immediately wondered if something hadn’t plowed into my home. Now I will tell you that I’m a fairly brave person by nature, I will conquer most of my fears or at least try to face them, I am not generally afraid of bugs (however I really hate those that leave slime behind and spiders creep me totally), I will stride bravely into pitch black rooms and basements with a snort of derision and I’ll even maintain my gate while walking past dark alleys. Oh yea, I’m bad!

But okay so I admit, cracking thunder which literally resembles to me like the hammer of God coming down to strike us all, does not give me any sense of comfort. I wasn’t the kid who would shriek and run to her parents when thunder decided to come calling, I was the kid who would pull the blanket over her head and pray reverently to Allah for it to all be over (which included bribes). So last night I’m sitting there like a deer in headlights as I realize we’re having a thunderstorm (because I hear no rain pitter pattering upon the windows). Stomach clenching in apprehension I turn on the computer and decide to distract myself with some innocent online shopping. First the fact that I would chose to pull something in my lap that was in fact connected to a power source while in the midst of such a storm was dumb. Second, the skittishness that I was feeling wasn’t going to disappear simply because my need to shop sometimes overshadowed all other common senses. And third, this dislike for thunder was deeply rooted so no matter the distractions, I would always be aware. The second two things lead me to drop my computer at the next deafening roar that ripped through the otherwise quiet night.

Was I alarmed that I had just unceremoniously dumped my lovely (yet ornery) red lappy onto the hard wood floor? Nope. I was more wrapped up in the belief that my house was being targeted by God and even at that moment my roof may be on fire. Concern for property drove me to go outside (yes, can you believe it? Wimp extraordinaire going outside during such a scenario), lean back and peer up into the black night. The air was warm but windy, the trees were moving in a manner closely resembling audiences at a metal concert and I could smell rain in the air (laugh but you can). I’m relieved to see no flames licking up my roof and with that in mind I decided bravery and property be damned I was not staying out for another second. Zooming in, I slammed the door shut and sprinted up to bed as fast as I could and dove head first under the cover (P was fast asleep and didn’t stir even an inch…stupid man). Suffice it to say I didn’t sleep for hours.

Did I mention that I intensely dislike thunder?

FB Blog Past - 8

October 18, 2012

I love when people give me ideas for blogs, particularly when I’m struggling to think of one that would be even remotely interesting.  This time it was suggested by someone that I write a bit about being a desi in un-desiland.  Knowing that this could and would possibly be a long post which would reach back years, I decided that the best way to tackle this would be to write it in several entries over the next few…well who knows, I’m fairly unreliable with timing.  So here goes. 

Growing up Brown Amongst the White Man…

My parents dragged me here when I was but a toddler tearing me away from their motherland.  I know for a fact how difficult this decision was but they had done it for the betterment of their family.  Since I’ve garnered the ability to retain any sort of memory, I’ve always been…here.  I vaguely have had memories about some other place, flashes of moments, sudden recollections of events but truly they are nothing but shadows.  Still as a very young child I somehow grasped that my home smelled different, that I, on occasion, wore different clothes (far more colorful and ornate) and I knew that the language spoken at home wouldn’t be understood by most of whom I was surrounded by.  But to be honest, did I really see the brown girl in the mirror?

No.

Neither was it shouted at me that I was different.  Back then the competition was between the blacks and whites, not the browns.  We didn’t have much say in our communities, we were only known as the quiet “Asians” down the street who would pretty much keep to themselves.  My parents were not unfriendly people, not by a long shot but for the most part we were not invited to the neighbor’s homes to celebrate Christmas and nor we sharing in summer time barbeques.  However I can recall watching my father standing next to his car in some animated conversation with the guy across the street or my mother leaning over the fence speaking with the lady of the house next door.  Even if we didn’t go to their homes, it didn’t mean they didn’t come to ours or that their children weren’t equally and warmly welcomed.

Even then, when the desi population in the US was very slim and there was no such thing as communities of browns (like there are today, and yes, there are such things everywhere you go now) we managed to eek out those with common skin color and that for the most part kept us grounded and somehow connected to “home”.  There were Friday nights when all our friends would come over, yummy spicy foods would be cooked and we would sit around the VCR and massively clunky television and watch some newly released hindi movie.  On special occasions we would pack into a few cars to go sit in a movie theater that was about a 2 hour drive away to partake in samosas during intermission and watching Rishi Kapoor and Neetu Singh falling in love in snow. 

Weekends were immersed in our culture, weekdays, in the other.  Yet I never could differentiate.  Childhood consciousness isn’t something that’s as in-tune or jaded to those obvious things around us such as racism, sexism or any other “ism”.  We did what we were told to do, we felt what we naturally were inclined to feel and we thought those things that were drilled into our rather undeveloped and sponge-like minds.  My parents were intent on making sure that I knew that I belonged, that I was never to think I was different nor better nor worse.  I was who I was and I should always be proud. 

So I was…there was no shame to my game. 

I was the kid who would go to school wearing a salwar kameez with pride, who would (on occasion) pull out her sabzi and roti while at lunch, who would sometimes slip up and use a word that others just didn’t understand having to strain my brain to remember the correct English translation.  I was also the little girl who could not wear shorts, go to sleepovers nor eat a pepperoni pizza.  I observed Ramadan even at that young age, sitting in the cafeteria while those around me wolfed down their meals at alarming rates while teasing and tempting me with food.  Even while I shot them nasty looks and wished the plague upon their families, I wasn’t bothered.

I did have some difficulty though, times when I just didn’t get it, when the differences made me feel alienated rather than being special; for instance, holidays.  No not the ones I observed, but the ones ‘they’ did.  Try to make a child understand why, when she was growing up in an environment where everyone was preparing for Santa Claus to visit, she would in fact not be receiving said caller without a river of tears being shed.  Yea, trust me, that’s a hard one. 

So what was it like to grow up in a white world?  No different than you probably.  I didn’t look at the world in colors, I didn’t sit around thinking I was different because honestly to me I wasn’t and they were no different then me.  I mean I was a kid right, I went out and played in the sun, the snow, amongst the leaves.  I threw fits and tantrums, I laughed and smiled, I was enthralled with Saturday morning cartoons, I loved candy and was determined to be able to master the art of double-dutch.  My parents were the center of my universe, my brother the person I most wanted to hang around with, my bed time was the one thing I wanted to dodge and school…well hell school was school.  I loved new scuff free shoes, I got dirty in the play ground and I got spankings.  As far as I could tell, my friends (white, black, brown, yellow, green, polka-dotted) all pretty much had the same lives. 

So, did I see the brown girl in the mirror?  Nope.  What was it like growing up brown in a white mans world?  At that time I would have said to you, “they’re not white, they’re just…people.” 

FB Blog Past - 7

For those newly following my writing, this was something I posted a while back on FB.  Just to start I'm adding this, and a few others, here also.  For those who are on FB with me, you don't have to read this, most likely you've see it already and therefore you will fall asleep once you've read the first sentence. 

Note:  This blog does not really reflect the new turn that my blogs will be taking, a more desi prospective of living in the USA.  Then again, not all my future blogs will do that consistantly.  Anyhow, enjoy : )

October 17, 2012

Seriously, I’m a walking talking ball of cluelessness.  I’ve been told this before by many but naturally I was clueless as to what they were talking about.  I’ve always found myself to be a very aware sort of human.  When I mean aware though I suppose it’s more on an emotional level or even intellectual but for the most part, things slip by me easily even as I stare at them in the face.  Here’s a great example and I’m a little nervous about posting it but honestly it’s funny so laugh and don’t judge. 

When I was working at the x-firm, I used to go to the local Starbucks like clockwork, once in the morning and once in the afternoon for that pick-me-up that we all need to just crawl through the last couple of hours in the day.  I loved that bit of time to myself or with my friends where you felt that slight loosening of corporate ties, even if it was for about 15 minutes (and you were clutching your blackberry for dear life).  I would go alone sometimes but for the most part a varied amount of acquaintances started to recognize my schedule and tag along. 

Now, I can’t help it if I’m by nature a nice person, nor that I can easily make friends or at least get people to like me with minimal effort.  I used to get teased to hell because on more occasions than I can count, I have been given something for which I did not need to pay simply because the person seemed to like me.  Some of my friends gently razed me about it but that didn’t bother me, I mean hey if I got it goin’ on, then I got it goin’ on right?  Now here’s one problem though, this whole concept of ‘got it goin’ on’ can also lead to uncomfortable situations.

So here’s what happened sometime last year.  Trust me when I tell you, this came out of right, left and center field and I realized at about this time how I have always had a habit of wearing blinders.  One of my besties at work was let go and I was left without my coffee buddy.  Devastated I went to get said hot libation the next day on a cold dreary rain drenched DC afternoon feeling sad and sniffling back tears (okay may be nothing as dramatic as that but it does add to the story no?).  I walk into the warm interior of the store and shake like a dog to get rid of the droplets of rain clinging to me.  I approach the barista, a woman who I would see all the time and who always was super uber friendly to me, going as far as asking me when I would next come back. 

That day, she must have noted the sadness lurking around my eyes and then she also took quick note of the fact that I was alone so she asked me where my friend was.  I told her that the day before had been her last day and that I was feeling the blues due to it.  She reached across the register and gave me a sympathetic hug and made me my drink.  As there were not many people there that afternoon, for braving the cold weather wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time I guess, she had the opportunity to chat with me.  After exchanging a few pleasantries, she suddenly asked me a question that sort of surprised me.  “Are you by any chance a lesbian?”

I don’t think my mouth dropped open in shock, but I’m sure I did look a bit confused.  I responded in the negative, flashing my ring.  She said ‘oh well I’m not the one asking, it’s my manager, she’s curious.”   Then after a pause she says “I mean, because you talk to me and well, I’m a lesbian.”  I did not know this, nor did I particularly care anyhow but I nodded my head and smiled and said “nope, been married to a foolish man for 15 years.”  I smiled and left without thinking.

After getting back to the office I walked into my buddy V’s office and told her about the conversation and she sat there amongst piles of folders and immediately burst into laughter and through that she called our other friend E into her office to reiterate the story, E too started to chortle.  Now I thought they were simply laughing because someone assumed I was a lesbian.  But no, that wasn’t it.  They both informed me that it hadn’t been the manager that was interested in my sexual orientation, but in fact the barista herself which would explain why she was always so nice to me, and why she provided me with so much free drinks.  I argued with them that I was a nice person (damn it) and that it’s not hard to like me.  They agreed of course.  Then it dawned on me and I collapsed against the wall laughing. 

My friend who I often went to get coffee with was (let me repeat again) one of my besties and as women are want to do at any age we would often giggle while standing very close to one another, it wasn’t odd to find us hugging or even making suggestive remarks and 9 times out of 10, she and I were always together.  She also often tried to blatantly steal my lip glosses and when I wouldn’t let her, it wouldn’t be totally off the wall to see her threaten to smooch it right off my lips (as she puckered and made fishy faces).  As I stood there recalling in V’s office (laughing all the harder), I remembered how many times she (my crazy friend with the fishy lips) pulled this stunt at that very Starbucks and how many times that barista was there to observe this.  You can imagine her assumption.  Lol.

Yea well after a lot of discourse and analysis regarding this between V, E and me, and also realizing that the barista had actually been dropping hints upon her interest in me for months leading up to that day, I could come out of V’s office assured that I was about the most clueless woman on earth. 

P.S.  I think she lost interest in me after a while L Sigh, another one bites the dust *sigh*

FB Blog Past - 6

For those newly following my writing, this was something I posted a while back on FB.  Just to start I'm adding this, and a few others, here also.  For those who are on FB with me, you don't have to read this, most likely you've see it already and therefore you will fall asleep once you've read the first sentence. 

Note:  This blog does not really reflect the new turn that my blogs will be taking, a more desi prospective of living in the USA.  Then again, not all my future blogs will do that consistantly.  Anyhow, enjoy : )

October 12, 2012

When I first watched the Movie “Sabrina” one certain scene stuck to me like glue.  It was when she was in Paris and her mentor tells her that she shouldn’t be afraid of being alone and that ‘I met myself in Paris’.  That got me thinking about the concept: comfortable being alone.  Now keeping in mind this was years ago and I’ve steadily thought about it since then.

So what does it really mean, meeting oneself?  Is there an assumption that you left yourself behind?  Or may be that you didn’t know you were missing and now you’re running around looking?  Did you make plans to get together somewhere?  Or did you sort of stumble onto yourself and said ‘oh there you are!’  Admittedly these were all childish questions that I asked myself back then but in many ways I was precisely that, a child.  Growing up in a very protective cocoon surrounded by an uber protective family, extended family and community, I didn’t have any concept of what ‘to be alone’ was and therefore the need to find myself was never an issue. 

I was never left alone long enough to have thoughts about myself and when I did contemplate what I truly wanted to do with life, in life, I knew I wouldn’t have heard a round of applause and cheers coming from my loved ones.  Why bother then?  I mean I just wasn’t brave enough for those fights nor was I self assured enough to think that may be, just may be, what I wanted was better than what they all wanted for me?  I was happy to live in complacency basically (and ignorance).  After that came marriage and responsibility.  So, meeting myself?  What was that?

Then years later, I’m with a very dear friend and I question her about her rather solitary life and she looks at me and said ‘I used to be really uncomfortable about being alone, now I’m okay, I’ve understood myself’.  Hmm…what an interesting thought and yet I still didn’t have the time to delve into it for long since I still was quite surrounded. 

I don’t think in my life I would have had much time to think on these lines, the idea of finding, meeting, and understanding self.  But then out of the blue I was left abandoned.  Sounds more dramatic then it was.  At my prior job I was surrounded by a bunch of lovely people who were my everyday.  I saw and spent more time with these folks than even P.  Sharing the banal details of the day to day grind with them, always knowing I had a lunch date, crying to them, complaining to them, these things became natural.  And I’m sure many of you have that one person (or may be more than one) who you find comfort in and true friendship with at your work place.  I couldn’t imagine life without their presence but as the story always goes, good things must come to an end, as that too did.  One day they were gone.  Well not in like one giant poof or there was some sort of mass exodus but yea, slowly they went on to bigger and better things leaving me to wave goodbye.  Basically ‘and then there was one’.

I recall sitting in my office feeling sad and pathetic not to mention quite friendless.  I would see others leaving in groups, laughing and talking excitedly heading for the elevators around lunch time while I avoided eye contact and tried to look busy.  I would skulk up to the cafeteria, grab some food and hasten back to my office to eat in quiet solitude.  I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said it epically sucked.  After a few weeks of this nonsense I decided that I could no long hide from seeing the outside world and eventually put on my big-girl panties to venture out…alone. 

The first few times it was uncomfortable and I was horribly self conscious making sure that I looked occupied as I sat staring resolutely at my phone.  Soon thereafter I became a bit more confident and started to do a lot of internal musing.  Sitting at a bar at some restaurant with no one gives a person plenty of time to mull over existence and even face a few demons.  More of self reflecting opportunity was presented to me when I was laid off and had nothing but hours and hours in a day to myself while it seemed to me the whole world was working.

I can’t say I have answered all the tough questions in life about myself during this solitude, nor that I feel as if some radical changes need to be made (well okay a few have been made but I don’t want to get into that here, after all something’s are far too personal to share even in a ridiculously long blog like status update).  Neither can I say that I’ve met myself totally but here’s a fact, I’m okay with being alone, I don’t shudder at the thought any longer, I enjoy the solitude now and I feel as if I am no longer dependant on anyone.  Not bad huh?

Moral of this story:  If you want to grab lunch sometimes…give me a call ; )

FB Blog Past - 5

For those newly following my writing, this was something I posted a while back on FB.  Just to start I'm adding this, and a few others, here also.  For those who are on FB with me, you don't have to read this, most likely you've see it already and therefore you will fall asleep once you've read the first sentence. 

Note:  This blog does not really reflect the new turn that my blogs will be taking, a more desi prospective of living in the USA.  Then again, not all my future blogs will do that consistantly.  Anyhow, enjoy : )

October 10, 2012

A good dose of embarrassment is just the right way to kick start hump day I’m thinking. No not really.  *sigh*   So…I get into the office this morning and shoot off a message a girlfriend of mine via messenger complaining about something.  She of course, being a woman and sane, would understand and show me the right amount of sympathy.  But instead, and to my horror, the message was sent to a male friend who I am not that close to, would certainly never share personal information with and who would probably have a heart attack upon reading my message (which sort of blows since I have no interest in causing someone’s death and that too on a random Wednesday morning). 

Mortified I thought of how to rectify (heh I said rectify) this and realized that there was no recall button on YM.  Darn it.  So I quickly sent two following messages apologizing and telling him that he was not the intended recipient.  I assure you that I shall be avoiding him from here on out for a bit at least.

But this actually led me to think about how truly dangerous these multiple modes of instant communication be, particularly when you’re multitasking.   Its not like I haven’t learned this lesson before in equally humiliating and painful ways which is why before hitting ‘send’ on any email I double, tripe, quadruple check the ‘to’ people to make sure that I wont have to do a lot of apologizing later for it.  Still sometimes I glance over something and off it goes to someone who most assuredly won’t appreciate what it is I’m sending.  I mean if they wanted it, they’d be on the initial distribution list, right?

Anyhow, as usual I have a ridiculous story that of course will highlight most of the thoughts I have, so here we go:

When I moved back to the east coast from California, I was able to score a job as a contractor at the DOJ.  Happy to just have something that paid me enough (barely enough) to rent an apartment and pay a few bills, I snatched it up and realized fairly quickly that…well the job sucked.  I hated it and was ready to get out as quick as humanly possible.  I mean I had my damn sneakers on at all times and revving my engines (okay now don’t take me literally).  Still being the hard dedicated worker that I have always been, I put my all into it and was glad that for the most part my manager seemed to like and trust me along with the group I was working with.  However my managers boss, notsomuch.  The guy disliked me from the get go and I wasn’t sure why.  I mean I stayed out of his way, I worked hard and yea I was (and am) sort of a smart butt and have this habit of letting you know if I think what you’re saying (or doing) is stupid through my facial expressions but still…I don’t think I ever did that to him.  I made a conscious decision to stay out of his way.

Then one day I was forwarded an email.  You know one of those random ‘animal facts’ emails?  Come on you know what I mean, it’s like, how long is a buffalo preggers for and a lobster mates for life, yada yada (naturally there are a few more shocking information on there that I really don’t have to nor shall repeat here).  I’m not big into spamming my friends but the email was funny enough and coupled with the fact that I was bored witless, well off it went.  I go back to being bored quickly thereafter.

A day later though, I look up and horror of horrors my managers sucky boss with his smirky smile and his oversized suit (I mean seriously, stop wearing your daddy’s clothes dude) comes swaggering over to me with a “I got you good” look.  He asks me to follow him because HIS boss (talk about a tier system) wants to see me.  Realizing that this isn’t good in the least I walk into a very sophisticated yet stern looking mans office (whose suit is perfectly tailored) and sit down trying not to twitch.  He hands to me a piece of paper and I recognize the email (yea, the animal one) and my eyes widen and this brown girl completely paled.  I did a mental ‘oh s***’ and prepared myself for unemployment.  After a beat, I looked up at him and said in a smallish voice, ‘I’m sorry but…I mean it was sort of funny.’  Then added brazenly ‘how did you get this?’

That’s when he told me that it was forwarded by me to someone of the same last name as someone I must have meant to send it to.  Yea confusing but whatever, basically the right person did NOT get it and in fact the person who did was someone pretty high up on the DOJ food chain.  Right, really time to pack my bags and go.   But clearly the dude I was talking to, no matter that he resembled my old elementary school principal, had a sense of humor.  He said to me, ‘next time just check the recipients more carefully.’  You would think I would jump up and zoom out of there?  Nope, my dumba** said in a confused voice ‘so I’m not fired?’  And he said with a rather pleasant low chuckle, ‘no, you’re still employed so don’t run off looking for a new job.’  That’s when I did jump up, thanked him profusely and was about to leave but came face to face with a very self-satisfied jerk of a boss who thought I would be in hand with a pink slip.  That look though was quickly wiped clean when the big guy said ‘oh and I forwarded this on to my friends, they thought it was hilarious too…who knew about that pig tidbit?’ 

Ahem.  Right, seriously attention to detail Rubina, attention to detail!

FB Blog Past - 4

For those newly following my writing, this was something I posted a while back on FB.  Just to start I'm adding this, and a few others, here also.  For those who are on FB with me, you don't have to read this, most likely you've see it already and therefore you will fall asleep once you've read the first sentence. 

Note:  This blog does not really reflect the new turn that my blogs will be taking, a more desi prospective of living in the USA.  Then again, not all my future blogs will do that consistantly.  Anyhow, enjoy : )

October 9, 2012

What was that song?  “Baby its cold outside” That’s it!  And let me say, yea.

How is it that last night I’m so exhausted that I plop onto the bed (no, not INTO it, onto it) and lay there curled in a ball refusing to admit that I need a warm blanket?  By the time P comes banging into the room and sees me like that, I’m frozen stiff and my nose could cool down your drink in a second if it were to be dipped into it (right that’s a rather disgusting visual). 

He looks at me and asks me in a matter-of-fact voice why it is that I’m not getting under the covers I’m presently laying on and I tell him that it’s because it’s only 7:00 pm and I refuse to be in bed this early.  He just rolled his eyes at me and went off to do whatever it was that he did after coming home from work.  I lay like that until I started to shiver and my teeth began to chatter.  As much as my jaw enjoyed this, I finally gave up and crawled under the covers and pulled it clear up to my eyes, peering pathetically out at P who kept his eyes a-rollin’.  Any other time I would have yelled at him to keep his peepers (and thoughts) to himself but my lips were sorta frozen so I decided to focus on E News.

This morning, the goose down comforter (oh how I j’adore, love, am passionate about my goose down)  refused to let me go (no really, I swear I didn’t want to stay) but somehow I batted it away and wrenched myself out to go shivering into my closet.  I was turning around in circles wondering what I should wear.  It’s that time of year where the weather lingers between warmish and coldish (Mother Nature is clearly unable to make up her mind) so one is ever sure what would be appropriate attire.  In the mornings it’s chilly, by afternoon the sun is out and by evening it’s windy and gloomy.  I know I said I loved fall but this isn’t the fall I love, let me clarify that.  Fall to me a hue of delicious warm rainbow-y colors, sunlight streaming through tree limbs being striped of its leaves and wafting scents of baked goodies.  This, on the other hand, is bleh, pure and simple bleh.

But bleh will not get me down.  I (almost always) try to look at the bright side of things which this time is the half of my closet that has been ignored throughout the better part of spring and summer.  Sweaters, turtlenecks, wool pants, boots and loads of scarves and shawls to choose from (and really I wonder at men and their wardrobe, I mean no offense but it’s just not as much fun for men to get dressed as it is for women…nor half as painful) and a fantastic array of hats!

So trying to feel upbeat and repressing another shiver, I begin the every day chore of preparing myself to hit the mean streets of DC by first pulling on this, then that, then oh yeah that too and I’m off with boots in place and bag in hand.  And I sing all the way to work “…but baby its cold outside!”

FB Blog Past - 3

For those newly following my writing, this was something I posted a while back on FB.  Just to start I'm adding this, and a few others, here also.  For those who are on FB with me, you don't have to read this, most likely you've see it already and therefore you will fall asleep once you've read the first sentence. 

Note:  This blog does not really reflect the new turn that my blogs will be taking, a more desi prospective of living in the USA.  Then again, not all my future blogs will do that consistantly.  Anyhow, enjoy : )

October 8, 2012

Laziness is such a curse and clearly I have a terminal case of it. I probably can’t count all those things I’ve missed out on because of this particular disease although at the time the excuses I made seemed perfectly reasonable and rational. Stomach aches, foot aches, back aches, too cold, too hot, no body part nor weather pattern has been spared to be used as a ‘legitimate’ excuse in the past to achieve my goal in ultimately staying home and doing nada. Of course the other problem usually was that if I did manage to score the time inside my lovely abode, I wasn’t sitting and watching TV while snuggled under a comforter, no I was just stupid enough to be cooking, cleaning or completing some other task which I suppose ultimately doesn’t make me THAT lazy.

This weekend though none of my excuses seemed to be cutting it. P was bound and determined to haul my bootay to the city to partake in the “Taste of DC” festival. With a groan, a sigh and a peak out the window to eye the gloomy dank weather, I whined that I was still feeling a bit sick from the week before <insert pathetic wholly unbelievable cough here>. P looked as if he was sympathetic, patted me on the head and even offered to get me medicine and after I refused he leveled a smile at me and said in a bright upbeat voice, ‘okay we’ll leave in an hour then!’ I scowled at his back as he bound into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. Conversation over. *sigh*

So about 2 hours later (cause of course which woman can actually get ready in an hour when it seems that the bed and her can’t easily be parted?) we’re parked in my work garage and joining the excited locals and tourists. I stared at their happy cheerful faces and had the overwhelming urge to smack them with a dead fish, mentally wondering what the hell there was to be so darn happy about. I quelled that particular feeling and trudged down the sidewalk towards the entrance. To top it off, we left our umbrellas in the car. Fantastic.

However, I’m glad to report that all in all it was a good time and I even ignored the wet steady drizzle that permeated our clothes and totally ruined my hair. But that was a small price to pay when the bounty before us was so tremendous and fulsome. People everywhere were in high spirits, music blaring over sound systems from all directions and helpful event staff with big smiles guiding the way. I have to admit I’m not big into crowds but this really wasn’t bad. Soon I was smiling and bopping long to the music and grinning while gripping P’s hand.

After consuming such delicacies as Pad Thai, Teriyaki Chicken, a slice of deep dish pizza, fried shrimp, corn on the cob dripping with butter, a chicken wing from Nando’s and two different desserts (at one point I was blissfully scarfing down a piping hot funnel cake and dancing in place in happiness so I knew I was happy), we were stuffed to the gills. Granted most of these things P had consumed much to my awe and shock while I nibbled but still, that was a heck of a lot of food and I wondered how we would make it back to the car. Luckily my new work place basically sits on Penn Ave so we took a breather in my office to get warm and use the restrooms (call me crazy but my idea of fun times does not include a trip to the port-a-potty).

Once home as night had long since descended, it was a blessed relief to be dry again but the euphoria from the day lingered. P at one point turned to me saying with a very smug smile ‘now aren’t you glad you moved your lazy butt off the bed?’ I wanted to sniff and tell him hell no but the truth was he was right, I was glad and he was right (darn it). So I very grudgingly nodded, threw him a dirty look and disappeared into the bathroom to towel dry my frizzed hair