I Am the Face that You Fear

 

 

You spot her walking towards you down the street, covered, modest, her hair hidden behind a swath of fabric.  You can only see her features but you ignore the peaceful look upon it.  You ignore the smile that she may cast your way if you catch her eyes. 

 

In an instant, you've judged her. 

 

You do not want to believe that the smile is genuine or friendly because that goes against everything you've been taught.  You don't want to believe anything positive about her.

 

You will ignore the new shoes that she's worked so hard to buy or the new purse which she's been wanting for so long.  You're going to wonder instead what she's doing there, sharing the same space with you.  She doesn't belong,  you think to yourself.

 

You will only see the cover on her head though, won't you?  You refuse to acknowledge the gentleness within her demeanor nor the blanket of kindness that seems to surround her.  You will not want to note that she is pretty, despite the head covering and yes, even fashionable but...that's not how women are supposed to dress, you sneer internally.  This woman is oppressed and blinded to it, you're so positive. 

 

And in those moments as she's moving closer towards you, you will only recall all the endless reports on the news regarding her ilk, her kind, her effin' kind.  Why doesn't she disappear?  Why doesn't she just go away?  Why does her people even exists, the murderous bastards, you fume within your being.  You damn her instantly without knowing a thing about her.  She must be 'one of them' you think.  And the next thought, a simmering sense of hatred spreading through your being, throbbing to life, "she's to blame..."

 

And if someone where to say to you: But she isn't.  If someone took their time to point out: She's simply walking by you.  She's on her way to work, possibly like you, or to a meeting.  She could be headed to the grocery store to pick up fixings for lunch/dinner, like you do.  She may be running to the daycare to pick up her beloved child or anxiously hurrying along because she's late for a meeting with her friends who she hasn't seen in so long, like you may have done.

 

What would you say to that person?  Most likely, "you're un-American!" 

 

But you don't see that last night she was up nursing her mother who was sick with the flu, or on the phone with a friend giving him heartfelt advice or weeping into her own pillow because she was just jilted.  You weren't witness to the happiness of falling in love for the first time, the acceptance letter to a new school/job.  You think she knows nothing about 'your' way of life, the 'American' way although she was born here, speaks the same language, enjoys pizza and popcorn and yes, even has the accent to boot. 

 

All you see is the head thingie, right?

 

You don't understand her.  She is foreign.  If you like her, God forbid if you like her, then are you a traitor too, you wonder, fighting this hard.  And if you do like her...if you dare to look at her as a person and not 'a head thingie' does that mean that you're turning into one of them?  If you stand too close will somehow her religion and beliefs rub off?  You could never face your friends and you would never be able to feel comfortable with yourself because the best place to be for you?  Is in the dark.

 

You have rejected her long before she made an appearance on that sidewalk/mall/public arena.  You have no clue as to the person she is, the thoughts that run through her  mind, the struggles she's faced, the achievements she's had, her philosophy, her morality, her purpose, her beliefs...you know nothing about her at all but...the head thingie.  You have written her off for everything you've assumed is true, but nothing that is based on any real facts.  You do not want to interact with her because you'd rather hate than understand, you'd rather blame than take responsibility. 

 

To you, she is really not human, she's something to be feared, hated, loathed, blamed.  She stands for everything that is not you and she's too stupid to realize how bad off she really is, you snort in disgust under your breath.   

 

And all along, as she walks by, you think to yourself, 'terrorist'.

 

That's it...terrorist.

 

Feb 9th and Finally A Resolution (of sorts)

Damn it, I've been a naughty blogger of late.  I haven't taken fingers to keyboard in a hot minute and the guilt has been killing me (not really).  Last week was sort of jammed pack with work, working out, work, organizing my world, work, meeting new people, work...did I mention work?

I started two new blogs in the meantime but haven't had the energy or interest to finish and post.  I'll get to them later.  For now both are hanging out in draft form wondering why I stopped loving them.  I figure if it's boring for me to write, it'll be equally boring for y'all to read hence I wait for creative inspiration to strike.

In the meantime, yesterday was unseasonably warm.  62F and the fools around these parts were already busting out the shorts.  Really, People?  You do realize that the fluxuating weather, although temporarily feels amazballs, isn't necessarily good either and isn't sticking around?  You're going from extreme temperatures and the plague is just lurking in the shadows for the right time to pounce.  Sure I didn't have a sweater on but neither were my knees on display.  Human kind can be real dumb sometimes.

Anyhow, I took a lovely long drive yesterday, listening to some awesome tunes, the sunroof open but the heater running at minimum.  The sun warmed the top of my cranium and I was...well I was okay.  Don't expect miracles now.  Be happy that I can say 'okay' with honesty because the alternative is to either bitch up a storm or lie.

I also indulged in watching the Grammy's.  Since my bro is a voting member, I feel sort of obliged but then there are the great collaborations that make it worth my time to waste plopped out on the sofa whereas I should have been working out. 

Oh did I mention that I'm working out?  I think I did.  But I am if in case you didn't read that blog which spoke at length about it.  It's been great *she says with teeth gritted*.  No but really it's not all that bad.  I've eaten healthy, sticking to a lowish carb diet while indulging every now and then in a piece of Harry and David's dark chocolate bonbon.  Otherwise a tablespoon of peanut butter is my go-to and I haven't been hungry thanks to healthy snack options.  Jeez, just listen to me.  Don't I sound like some health freak?  You can trust that I'm far from it. 

This morning the weather was significantly colder which meant hats, gloves and coats (why did I type in goats?  That would be weird walking around DC with a goat).  With meetings, I haven't had a chance to focus on much but then during the earlier part of the day I had a chance to share a post from someone else.  Here it is:

A close friend not too long ago said to me, "why are you always waiting for the other shoe to drop?" 

I recall looking at him almost blankly and responding, "because it always does."

If I had only accepted (within my heart) that one day the other shoe will most definitely drop, that would be okay.  I said the words but I can for sure tell you that I hoped against it in some deep recess of my being, I always have.  Had I embraced the concept from the beginning, possibly half the disappointments I've suffered in life would have been easier to take. 

But that's not what I've been doing even while I utter the words.  Yea, my pessimistic nature demands that I question everything and anything.  Even if I don't verbalize it, half the time I'm thinking to myself, 'What's the angle?  What's this going to cost me?  Why is this happening this way?'  However, for as negative as these thoughts are, I believe that maybe, just maybe, things can be taken at face value.  If someone says something nice about you, it's not because they're trying to get something out of you.  If something ends up working out right, it's not because it's a miracle but rather because it was supposed to.

This mentality that I've grown up with has saved me from some pretty unsavory situations/lessons in life.  But on the flip side of that very coin, it hasn't gone all peaches and cream easy either.  Due to the almost breathless anticipation of the shoe to hit the floor, I've managed to not enjoy whatever it is I'm experiencing.  Not only is it frustrating to me but to the person(s) I'm with.  Before I know it, I'm sitting back thinking that I should have really shut up and have lived in the moment.  But like seriously, who are we kidding?  I mean I'm so not like that...by nature.

Still...still...I see how destructive and ineffective towards my own happiness this mindset is hence I've decided to start to overcome.  If I had to identify a New Years resolution (even if it is Feb 9) this is what I'm resolving: No more am I going to anticipate anything and wait for that damn shoe to drop.  The shoe is either staying on the damn feet or in the closet!!  I know the reality is that nothing lasts forever, nothing.  What we have today most likely will be gone tomorrow.  Nothing also stays stagnant.  Things change from moment to moment.  The people we were yesterday isn't the same as the person we are today and will not be the same person we will be tomorrow, even from a biology standpoint.  It's important to adapt and adjust and let go of fears of change so that living in the moment becomes a pleasure, not constant stomach churning anxiety.  This is reality in it's most stark form.  I know this intellectually, now I have to simply accept it within my heart.  And next time that damn shoe/heel/boot/slipper falls?  I'll look at it, shrug my shoulder and say, "oh well, that's that."

Ultimately I've made a resolution I guess.  I'm not happy about it since we all know I don't like the nonsensical concept of resoluting anything however, this is a necessary evil.  Wish me luck.

Ugh!  It's raining.  I have to go home in this crap.  Meh.

Real Struggles of a Brown Pudgy Person

Oi...

 

I'm in pain, Folks.  Maybe not the total agonizing blinding kind (yet) but I'm stiff as hell, joints are about to stage a coupe.  Every muscle is aching, every joint is creaking.  Do I have the flu?  Nyet.

 

Last night I partook in my first ever yoga class. 

 

Now I don't know about the rest of you, but for the likes of me I always figured yoga would be a bunch of positions with meditating as a side course.  I had no clue it would even generate a sweat and most certainly that I would stretch muscles within my body that frankly I didn't know I had.  By the time it was done, I was just relieved that I lasted.

 

P was the one who had the brilliant idea to hire a friend of ours who is a yoga instructor. She's a sweet thing with such a pretty face that you sorta can't help but stare and an absolute killer body with tat sleeves.  She had offered in the past to give classes in exchange for some Indian classical dance moves but the girl needs money more than moves so we decided to gather together more friends and hold a session in our basement. 

 

As we were getting ready, P exclaimed out loud that 'yoga is for girls'.  The females in that room turned and glared at him, asking him what precisely meant.  He was smart enough to shut his trap and not elaborate.  And his smug ass learned the lesson well enough when afterwards he collapsed onto the floor panting and groaning as well as declaring in a significantly weak voice, "well hell, men don't do yoga because it's hard as hell and we don't bend that way!"  Yea, that's right, you best recognize, Fool!

 

Oh boy but he wasn't lying either.  It is hard as all get out.  I'm sitting here at work with random parts of my body crying out against the abuse.  I'm also disabused of a theory I held for a long time:  I'm brown so yoga will be a snap.  I shoulda have had my head checked just for thinking that nonsense.  Or, my brown club card needs to be ripped out of my turmeric stained fingers. 

 

Adding total insult to injury (my body is roundly already cursing me for this) tomorrow I'm taking a Bollywood Zumba class.  Not just that but my yoga instructor (and friend) is going with me because she rarely gets a chance to take classes as she says.  -_- Now I have to go to this thing with her and have a workout queen next to me beating me at my own dance type?  Seems super unfair.

 

To take it one step further and really screw my self over?  I'm even figuring that I may actually bust out the ShaunT HipHop Ab video that I bought ages ago, finally take the cellophane off and possibly sweat it out on Friday's.  That makes it 3 days a week that I'll be working out.  KILL ME NOW.

 

What the hell am I about to do to myself?  Oh, I know it's called torture.  It ain't just for prisoners of war.  Actually I know the accurate description for this behavior but I won't even bother going into it but my friends in the BDSM world knows what it is.  And while my workout enthusiast peppy buddies tell me with stomach-turning fervor that this is great, I'll feel awesome, it'll get easier...I simply roll my eyes and mentally tell them to STFU or bitch slap them into an elliptical machine.  Frankly, I hate working out with a passion.  I've said this before openly, I'll say it again:  I hate working out.  I hate it.  I hate it.  I really hate it.  No, actually I loathe it.  I do it, but I loathe every last second.  I get that as one works out with they release endorphins and endorphins make you happy (per Legally Blond), yada, yada, yada.  Well it doesn't make me happy, just more energized which in turn makes it harder for me to sleep because I can't turn my darn self off...

 

I suppose I should be far more PC about this but sorry, I can't be.  I absolutely cannot stand those anorexic chicks I see with hair in ponytails, butts encased in ridiculously tight yoga pants, double multicolored tanks that emphasis their big boobs and small waist and a yoga mat under secured snuggly under their irritatingly toned arms, giggling and laughing due to prior mentioned endorphin rush with their counterparts who are the exact copy of themselves.  *Puke*

 

WOAH!  The negativity.  Do I sound like a hater or what?  Okay calm down R, calm it down...

 

I need to stop.  I'm doing this for me.  No one is forcing me either and not because the world seems to be full of yoga pant wearing mat heads who are trotting up and down the streets enthusiastically looking for the next rush.  I'm doing this because I need this.  Just for me. 

 

So a few years ago I hit a wall of 'big'.  In fact I was huge, swelling to a size that I think may have been just this side of Nat Geo labeling me as a new species of 'baby elephant'.  I wasn't happy, I felt disgusted with my existence and I suffered such a ginormous inferiority complex that it was hard for me to get out of bed.  Even hanging out with my friends (who were way thinner than myself) was a pure downer.  One day I decided it was time for me to quit wallowing in my own misery and get the hell OUT of bed and do something about this self imposed misery.  Having tried so many ways of losing weight in the past which included a myriad of quick fixes, I had to reevaluate what would work for me, not anyone else and follow that.

 

That led me to embracing calorie counting.  Now go on, think what you wish but within a span of a year I lost over 60lbs.  I looked good, felt better, had stamina and more importantly I walked around with my head held high.  I wasn't avoiding cameras and unlike before, I wouldn't pick someone to hide behind when someone said it was picture time.  I was confident that although I wasn't the size 2 that I ultimately I wanted to be, the size I had achieved had been hard fought and a lot smaller than what I had been.  It was a total personal win.

 

I maintained that weight loss for over 2 years, living life seamlessly, cheating when I wanted, never starving myself, working out when I could and I loved that.  Then I was laid off from a job I thought I would retire from and it steadily spiraled.  Depression did it's awful number on me and what I put in my mouth became inconsequential.  To be honest, it wasn't that it was what I was eating, it was when I was eating it.  I didn't care at all and that was the problem.  I saw the weight slowly come back, my face becoming fuller, more rounded, the double-chin coming back to roost and whereas I've managed to gain back about 25 of those pounds, I find myself yet again dissatisfied. 

 

Now, I'm off again, determined to not only lose weight but more than I did before.  Worry not, my goal is doable.  I also assure you I will not become an exercising lunatic, I hate it way too much to really morph into one of them anyhow and no, my blog won't become the platform for nonstop conversations about how I'm doing this or that and motivational blah, blah, blah.  I will report back on occasion regarding progress, most likely bitch up a storm about how much I hate (did I mention this before?) working out and exercise in general.  I'm sure y'all are totally excited about this!

 

For now?  I'm indulging in an orange.  -_-

 

*Sigh*

 

This totes sucks.

 

You Don't Want to Say It? Well I Will!

 

 

I move into the 2nd day of the 2nd month of 2015 with a vast amount of amusement bubbling within my breast.  Not that I woke up with anything to be happy about.  In fact this morning has been downright awful.  Let me paint a picture here:

 

Peering out the window to gauge the weather, I grimaced and let the curtain fall gently back into space.  I honestly debated going back to bed and calling it a day but that wasn't happening since half of my colleagues were traveling and I would have to hold down the fort.  Blast it all.

 

By the time I was driving to work, stuck in creeping traffic, staring at an endless snack-like slithering line of red tail lights, I felt a distinct melancholy come to embrace me like an old lover.  There was no 'sunny side of the street' at that moment, not as far as the eye could see.  The drizzle came down steadily, occasionally a stray fat raindrop splatting across the windshield which the wiper dispatched efficiently.  Far in the distance dark clouds hovered over the small city of Rossyln that was spread across to my left.  I thought of the spaceship that hovered over the cities in the movie Independence Day.  Yea, looked something sort of like that.  My eyes glanced to the car on the right, a woman was there, her face almost resigned, smoking a cigarette as if it were the key to her survival.  A car further down full of a gaggle of sleepy worker bees sat quietly or so I figured since no ones lips were moving, the three passengers focused on the phones grasped within their hands.  I sighed, another work day. 

 

I inched along thinking to myself that I should have opted to resume hibernating. 

 

Listlessly listening to the radio I found nothing to keep my attention for long.  This particular morning I simply wasn't feeling NPR but after a quick perusal of the other channels I gave up on that and popped in the ear buds, hoping that my own music would cheer me.  No bueno.  It wasn't happening.  Instead I simply kept hitting the skip button living within the assumption that I could possibly find something that didn't totally turn me off.  Seemed like that was asking for too much.

 

The gloom in the air was really working it's magic on me this morning and on top of that the horrible traffic made me one cranky Desi.  I tried to block out the amount of work that awaited but that was hard to do with my iPhone vibrating every few seconds notifying me that new mail demanded attention.  I knew for a fact that I had a meeting that was supposedly starting in 15 minutes but there was no way...no way with the speed in which I was traveling so I had to bite the bullet and shoot off a quick email explaining my tardiness. 

 

Awesome.  All totally awesome.

 

So that was all bad enough (I won't describe how I also took 10 trips back into the house in order to retrieve various items I forgot or how my left knee cracked every time I stepped nor will I go into great detail about how half my coffee spilled as I went to pick it up because the barista as SB's didn't secure the lid properly...I mean that would be uber pathetic, right?) and I didn't think things could really get any worse.  Luckily it didn't.  Phew.  I'm often tempting fate to prove me wrong but at least to this mornings extent it spared me.  Maybe considering the last few weeks/months even the Fates were thinking to themselves, "let's leave her brown butt alone." 

 

Then what is it that brings me such amusement?  Well actually, my blog.  Not what I'm writing.  I mean I'm writing it, to some degree it has to amuse me otherwise I don't think I'd be scribbling half as much as I do.  What really got me smiling like a monkey was when I logged into my analytics to start a new blog, checked out the hits report and saw that the blog from Jan 27th received a lot of interest.  I mean a lot.  I mean more than I could imagine.  Let's put it this way, upon gazing at the number, I sat back stunned, then in my empty office I started to laugh out loud, the edges of it tinged with smug delight.

 

I took the time to re-read that blog just to see what the hullabaloo was.  Upon doing so I realized that yes, although it was written with a hell of a lot of emotion, anger, frustration, blah, blah. blah...it was also very accurate.  EVERY DAMN WORD.  The vitriol that I spewed was in no way exaggerated and it came to the point as well as from the heart.  I'm giving myself a virtual pat on the back here, People, and I'm assuming that either it's out of blatant curiosity due to the title or because I have readers that just outright follow my silliness, that you out there who also read it may be giving me mental kudos.  That blog no doubt says the things a lot of people think but dare not utter.

 

Side note:  Recently, I mentioned to my gf that I would be limiting the length of my yammering.  She was appalled by this but I patiently explained that there was a study released somewhere in some magazine that any blog over one scroll is oftentimes ignored because people found them 'too long' to read.  Apparently we all have the attention spans of a gnat but whatever...I scurried back to my own computer and checked out the general length of mine and was horrified that on an average one would have to scroll 3-4 times to get to the bottom, if not a lot, lot more.  Insecure I decided to jump onto the bandwagon of success.  Problem is that I'm not one who remains on the wagon.  I sort of have to march to my own beat.  For me, this blog has never been one which I plan to use to catapult me to stardom so what do I care how many people read, as long as a few like it from the bottoms of their hearts.

 

Discarding the idea of limiting my words to 1500 per post, I've resumed what I do best, analyze, over-analyze, breakdown and study a topic till I feel like my brain is bleeding and then banging it all out on a nice white 'sheet' of paper. 

 

In analyzing the post that has in fact incurred so much attention, I think that for the most part, we humans are chicken-shit.  Most of us do not dare to say what's on our mind, not even write it.  We are far too concerned about appearing PC, broad-minded, even-keeled...whatever.  We will literally rather bite off our own tongues or chop our fingers off in order to not speak what's in our hearts/minds.  And by doing this?  We have a world full of negativity, anger, and a pressure cooker like environment that we're living in.  Every other person is walking around with some sort of resentment harboring deep within their souls and it's just waiting for the right time/person to appear before an ugly explosion happens.

 

I did in fact start to let the steam out of my pressure cooker.  Yes, I've also had to deal with a bit of fallback from it in the form of friends reaching out to me to ask me whether I was okay, what was going on, who pissed me off...which I don't think is a bad thing.  This is definitely one way of knowing that I'm loved and cared for but the truth of the matter is I didn't write that post for anyone else but me.  I needed to.  I had to.  I could have restrained myself but all that would still be stuck somewhere within me demanding release.  Unable to very often deny myself something that will bring my mind rest, I simply let go, told myself that I didn't care what anyone else thought of the words/sentiment, and let every single feeling I was struggling with come out via the tips of my fingers.  And people seem to like that.

 

Actually, every 'controversial' post I've made regarding something I'm fairly passionate about has been well received.  Sure I have the 'fluff' that stud the directory of my webpage but those do not generate the same interest as the serious ones.  I like this.  I like learning that people are deeper than a puddle with the vast capability of intellectualizing a point and I'm glad that I can somehow stay clued into the human condition enough so that I can possibly be the mouthpiece to those things that others aren't willing to talk about, but I am. 

 

BTW, of all the recent blogs that I've written, that is the one that I am indeed most glad garnered interest.  Every emotion I poured into it is real, every single word was thought out.  I didn't even post it for many hours, most certainly not before reading it over and over again to make sure that I wasn't saying anything that I would come to regret or moreover be unable to say to any person who I felt deserved it.    

 

A friend, after reading it, said to me, "hell next time I break up with a jerk, I'm coming to find you so you can send him a 'f-u' letter."  Maybe that's my next profession?