He looks happy.
No, he is happy :)
He looks happy.
No, he is happy :)
You guys see what south asian women have to deal with?? You guys think I’m joking when I say that people actually think like this.
OK, I am not going to rage-blog about cultural appropriation, because I have already done that at length on this tag, and I am too tired to rehash tonight. (Also too tired to rage-cry. Goddamn, y’all need to hand me a drink before putting White Bindi Bullshit on my dash.)
This casually cruel bullshit is exactly why I automatically despise white girls wearing bindis - because this is what you are stepping into, this is what you are doing to me, to all of us, when you decide that you want to “appreciate” my heritage by stealing my cultural & religious symbols.
- “all [the] hot girls [wear] bindis except the Indian ones they shouldn’t be allowed to wear them”
- “damn, hotter than any Indian”
This racist fuckery is what you are encouraging. This blatant theft, this idea that we’re not good enough to touch OUR OWN STUFF, this idea that white people are more worthy of performing my own fucking culture - this is what you’re participating in when you decide to wear a bindi because it’s shiny or whatever.
I am sure every random white girl who wears a bindi “doesn’t mean it like that”, but guess what? Your individual intent does not matter; both of us are part of a larger sociocultural context which devalues South Asians who engage with their own culture and religion, while simultaneously praising & admiring white people who play dress up with our lives.
And when you haphazardly participate in this bullshit, please reign in your surprise when people react poorly. If you stomp on somebody’s toes, they are not obligated to be polite when telling you to step off.
Wow, people actually think like this? I’m not sure what to think, honestly. It’s really disgusting.
Today my cousin Tay had came over and I realized that there is something different about people. I noticed that seems to be the case that is pervasive about this family. A really big difference becomes noticeable when you have not seen that person for quite some time. That difference becomes obvious when you know that the family is nothing but an illusory insignificance to you and there are people that you should know, but you do not know at all. Whether you are young or old, when I was young, I remember being around the family frequently, now that I am older, we are more apart and everyone is off elsewhere and I have no idea where. Family these days seems to have become a mental burden to me because of the aforementioned fact: that there are people I myself should know but do not know at all.
I do not even know how old they are, I just found out today anyways—I still don’t know their favorite food, their birthdays, their favorite color, what have they been up to with their lives. It just seems to be a really upsetting situation of meeting a stranger in your house. A rare stranger who makes their presence to you know at their convenience when it pleases them. They consider themselves adults now and the time has past since we were all young and adventurous and kept together. No, not kept together, at least we were frequently around each other. I honestly do now know what to make of this family. One minute, a girl comes by to stay over who is family. It was a short stay because of my temperamentally disturbed mother cannot seem to have patience for anyone. There is a lot of deep imbedded psychological issues that my mother seems to have for anyone who is an offspring for someone who she has had bad tidings with. In addition to that, people often reflect certain aspects of ourselves with which we distaste being reminded of.
[Perhaps this could lead to why it’s so difficult for me to relate to people? No, I can relate to people if I chose to. But what is it that I cannot do well? Have a relationship? Meh, need I really make this post so self-hating?]
Her friend, Itay, I noticed that there was something a bit off about her. She was very off about certain things. She is quite tawdry and her mouth is brazen. I was thinking to myself “How did Tay come to know her? What circumstances did they meet each other?” It mattered not honestly. I also strongly suspect that they both talk the same when it pleases them. It’s funny hearing family talk in such a way. People definitely reflect each other in ways you would not believe. But then that is a minor possibility; it could be a reflection of nothing at all. People are people, and opposites most certainly magnetize to each other (attract).
They watched the Steve Wilkos show, all of that boring sensational drama for people who probably have enough drama in their own lives. I find such shows to be uninteresting. When there is so much more (un-)interesting things going on in my life. Why bother with that?
In any case, I will cut my thoughts off from there about family. There are other matters to discuss and I am honestly going to digress for the moment.
The day at the library was pretty nice. I got in on time and helped out some patrons. Found out that one of the girls that I was crushing on is actually a mother. That was a bummer; kind of ruined it for me in a way. There was also the possibility that she could have been engaged too, like the other girl I liked. I would not have any way or knowing without asking, I’m no sleuth when it comes to interpreting people and people are very good at concealing such things. I also had failed one of my test: To get to know someone, at least speak to one stranger last week and get to know them, preferably a girl. I would like to; I just cannot bring myself to it. Maybe I should place myself in the circumstance where the probability is high.
I’m always browsing the shelves. Nothing pleases me more than the sight of books. Their consistency in my life leaves a satisfying permanence that I can rely on constantly. Just recently read Tim Wise’s Dear White America. It was a great read. Reminded me of the incurable history that America has always wanted to expunge itself of. And the pervasiveness of it to this very day. Now I need to go back to read something more, something about history. Perhaps, this book I found, 1491 New revelations of the Americas Before Columbus by Charles C. Mann. History. Ah, yes. History. A topic I have touched on very frequently throughout the year. Let’s read on the times before Columbus fucked things up for the indigenous people. The True Americans. Books are my only lovers really. Sure, some may tell me lies; it sounds odd, but at least I can always go back to them and leave them feeling refreshed and renewed.
Today was another good day at the library. I found that after all of my thinking about it and asking around. I could actually see myself being a librarian for quite some time if I so chose. I remember a long time ago I would have never thought of myself being a librarian. Despite my love of books, the idea never came across my mind. I have always seen myself as a scientist once, then when I went to that godforsaken school that is [soon to be ‘was’ heard that they are closing it down, but then, they’ve been saying that since before I graduated in 07.] August Martin High School I saw myself as a Pilot. But honestly, I do not see myself as either of those possibilities. Perhaps on my leisure time I could fly a plane if I so choose to take the classes to become a pilot. Perhaps if I so choose I could continue my education to become the scientist that I have once dreamed to be. A chemist of sorts brewing chemicals for the good of people. Or similar clichés of that imaginatively charitable nature for my human kind that generally does not share the same sentiments without further complications.
But I honestly have digressed. I was supposed to go over about how good my day at the library was. There is just something about it honestly. Being there and socializing with different people and age groups. I honestly would have thought that it would have been more difficult than that. But it is not and to my surprise it was not. Then there is the fact that there are books. Through out my mid teens I have developed a fervor for books of all kinds and backgrounds from urban base smut to profoundly esoteric philosophy. I’m a bibliophile who tries to curb his enthusiasm for books but according to my library card, it is still not enough.
My bibliophile dream come true right before my eyes. I have information at the touch of my fingers, at the browsing of a nearby shelf I can guide myself to whatever book takes my interest and borrow it for free if I so choose with minimum penalty if I am not careful But that is rare. I can learn about the sciences in within a day. The Arts within another, and the Histories of a country I have never heard of in an hour. The books, I love browsing them. It takes me on an adventure that I never knew of. I could not understand why would people just sit at computers all the time when there were so many neglected books about. Oh well, more for me honestly.
Then there are the readers. The READERS. I watch them as they check out books and I wonder what book they are reading. Not to appear stalkerish but I am genuinely interested in why they choose that book to read. I wonder if it is any good myself and if it does take my eye I place a hold on it for myself. I take my time and deduce immediately how a person is much more than they seem. It’s amazing the people I see reading certain kinds of books. I recently saw a twelve year old boy check out several finance books. He wants to be rich, so be it, he’ll get there.
In short. I love browsing them, taking note of who reads what, what should I myself read next and what is most interesting title for the day and making sure I get in my hands the next week and engrossing myself in it completely.
This is one of the best perks that I like about being here. Out of the house, away from the redundant nit-pickings and the constant walking on unnecessary eggshells. This is merely a taste of what things could be like. Now, if only I was getting paid. Doesn’t matter. [Well it does honestly] This is nice and the employment opportunity was always there. I just needed to find it and as a bonus, prove myself for it.
Now, for the idiocy that I had to deal with for a small part of the day.
David, I spoke to him about my employment prospects. He called my volunteering ‘slave labor’. The audacity of this farcical dickhead who can’t even keep a girl, much less find a woman, did not faze me honestly. I am fully aware he is dealing with his drama girl(-friend) Cynthia. Who is just an incorrigibly dissembling coquette. A flirt of a girl who vies for the instinctive attention of men until she knows she can get what she wants from them and has them on a leash. As David is. He is merely venting his little petulance in small acerbic spurts of bitterness. However, I also mentioned to him that I plan to get my real estate license so to be able to have more income. He was more receptive of that. “Just be sure to do your homework and you’ll be all right, I don’t know much about Real estate though, why ask me?” I told him that I liked to hear what he says. When he’s not being a sarcastic idiot, David has the potential to make sense. He just needs to work on not eating his own foot.
Anyways, that is about it honestly. I have so much more to write on, but I’ll leave it at that.
It never occurred to me to browse through the credits of Ridley Scott’s 1979 film Alien, to find out who was underneath the monstrous black mask.
The man was Bolanji Badejo, a 7ft tall Nigerian design student picked up from a bar in West London to fill the title role. He worked on the film for 4 months. Spending every day wrapped in a suffocating custom fitted rubber suit, working to exude a presence of pure evil.
Despite his incredible contribution to the film’s success Badejo never received any publicity for his involvement. Ultimately, it would be his only film role.
for their entertainment
to appear as beasts
at the heart of their economic success
yet denied proper credit in history’s book
to be the main character
denied the spotlight
where have we seen this movie before…
Yep, as with most shit minorities do, we don’t get the credit for it… regurgitating redundancy at it’s best.
Today I was supposed to be at the library at around 11Am. It’s 1:20PM now. But in all honesty, I really do not care. I do not have an official schedule in printed paper before me so that I would have been convicted myself to sleep earlier so that I would wake up early to get there on time. But then, I have other things on my mind. Such things on my mind that are honestly of little tangible significance I wonder why I am thinking of them. The rhetoric of being human is an uncanny thing. I think of things that are of little to no importance to anyone else and they take the better attention of my mind for hours on end.
Thoughts on relationships like, why can’t I get a girlfriend? Why can’t I keep a girlfriend. Why do I even want to have a girlfriend? It’s pointless circle-jerking…
Thoughts on my self-inflicted solitude. Why must you do this to yourself? What better way to cope with things than to be alone? The majority of my friends do not care for themselves, I must care for myself. No one else can do this better—so why do I need anyone else? Look at the society that I am in, do I really think now is a good time to go out looking for someone? I must not chide myself into a disillusioned possibility that will lead to self-inflicted heartache and even more despair. In this nation, this society that I live in, relationships are a commodity, people are a commodity. Feelings are a commodity. No one cares. I cannot say that I am the only one that tries to at least care for someone, if not for a relationship but at least for something more than that.
Why do I feel that fewer and fewer people are caring? This is not something that I honestly want to dwell on too long. I have to go out soon. At least do my eight hours for this week. So much has been falling into place. My father is always looking out for me. That old man. What is it that he needs me to do? Ah, yes. He wants me to get into real estate, he met a gentleman that he’s renting a lot from. I have written of this somewhere before. I have a bad habit of writing everywhere and never getting it typed.
In any case, I’ve been offered an opportunity to become a real estate broker’s apprentice. I want to do this. One of my goals is to actually learn the trade of real estate. I do not care what it takes. Did I also mention that my volunteer months are over? I have learned so much in three months. The art of negotiating with people, professional networking, conversing with people of events and job opportunities. I’m not such antisocial person as I thought I was, so long ago… wow. Things are so different now. I never thought it would be… so simple.
I have to persist. There is always more to things than meets the eye. It is a start that I am willing to begin. Let me get to the library now.
Rad, ;) these ecards are something else honestly.