or tofurkey for my veggie friends.
Had a big dinner earlier, it’s 2am and Im still stuffed.
But Im still about half ready to make me a turkey-leftover and tomato and mayo sandwich.
gobble gobble, bitches.
Ive had plenty to whine about these past few weeks, but i didnt today. Lets all take a day off from bitching and reflect on what we’re thankful for.
Happy Thanksgiving!
He won.
amazing.
was at a friends place watching the television coverage until about 12:30am last night. They had a bunch of people over. Champagne bottles popped open, everyone screaming. A few of them decided to head out into the city to take part in the street-side celebrations that were springing up everywhere.
I stayed home.
What’s wrong with you? they asked. Secret McCain fan?
They didnt get it. They arent from the States, and for them, this was just a celebration. This was a lot more for me. I was just as happy as they were, maybe more so, but in a different way. It was pretty emotional for me… I just remembered watching the last two elections, and the disappointment I felt…and all the hard times we went through these last 8 years, with September 11th and the subsequent gloom and widespread anti-arab sentiment, and the wars that claimed the lives of friends or friends of friends, and the economic situation which caused many of my friends to lose their jobs and/or all their savings, and having to listen to the radio each morning to see if I still had a job that day…even if Obama hasn’t officially done anything as president yet, he’s already imbued me and countless others with a profound sense of hope that better times are ahead, and confidence in the belief that he has the wisdom, compassion, and courage to pursue ideals that appeal to the common man. For this alone, I am grateful. His speech was inspirational…I couldnt control the shivers, and some point, the tears.
A new journey begins…where will it take us? Where will we take ourselves?
I hope to have the courage to project this new-found sense of confidence and empowerment into something worthwhile in my life, and in the lives of others.
best,
Z
I was reading an old post (actually the last one but I’m a lazy bastard and my last post was almost 2 weeks ago) about how I always break or damage or lose my phones, and I was listing some examples of how these things happened. I mentioned that once my phone was run over by a truck. I began to recall that episode in my head. I remembered the truck being yellow, and fairly small. It had black dashes painted along the side and a lit sign on top with glowing numbers. The driver looked like one of the bad guys in True Lies.
It was a taxi cab. A small regular sized taxi cab.
Had I forgotten this minor detail? No and no. No I did not forget, and no this detail is not minor. But I didn’t lie on purpose, either. I was just writing, lost in my own thoughts and madly orchestrating my fingers to weave a web of words on my keyboard, tangled or otherwise. In my writing trance superfluous details such as facts are sometimes usually disregarded. I’m actually surprised that I didn’t go for a little more. If I could do it over, it would have read as follows:
So I was backwards-worming down the street and my brand new phone that I bought like 12 seconds ago slipped out of my pocket and onto the 10-lane highway. Cars were blazing by for almost a full minute, but amazingly my phone remained unscathed. When the light changed I forward-wormed back out onto the street to get it, but just then the train that runs above-ground in my neighborhood careened off the tracks and plummeted 50 feet right onto my motorola RAZR just as I was leaning in to scoop it up. I easily could have died and I would have (and according to many, should have) but fortunately (unfortunately according to those same aforementioned people who feel that I should have died) Arnold Schwarzenegger saw the train racing towards me through the air and charged and tackled me while yelling Get DoOoWn before his rabidly gutteral Austrian gargle was drowned out by the train exploding directly onto my cellphone. Luckily no one was hurt.
My version would be called “Little Falafel Boy”.
You see how I skillfully toe the line between reality and fantasy? This is a master at work here, folks. Here’s a tip for you newbie bloggers (upstart novelists, screenplay writers, journalists, court reporters, etcetera) — don’t over do it. Por ejemplo, I could have said that when I went back out onto the street to get my phone, I backwards-wormed, just like I did before when I was crossing the street. Yes, backwards-worming is more impressive. But if I was backwards-worming when I was walking down the street then naturally I would have to do the opposite whilst backtracking. Turning around just so that I could backwards-worm in the another direction would be just plain ridiculous. Furthermore, backwards-worming twice in a row would be so shockingly impressive that it would detract from the excitement of the derailed train (for those of you who disagree, SCREW YOU because you have clearly never seen me backwards worm). That’s why organized religion stinks — the scribes who wrote it just went way too far.
That’s just the name of the game folks. The blogosphere gets boring when people only wanna pretend to know about politics or regurgitate whatever they read in the paper that day. We gotta spice this shit up. My blogging name is Zuér. My real name is Leslie. See that? Sex[iness] sells. That’s why I put this picture of myself on my about page — I look dead sexy there, and if I didn’t you wouldn’t be reading this right now. FACT. You see how when you saw my picture you said to yourself, “god DA!mn this dude looks smokin hot”? That’s exactly what I was going for. And I got it. Why? Cuz I gives you what you want.
Here’s another fact — my blog audience has increased in size by 300% since I learned how to embellish (from 1 to 3 regulars). It’s elementary. Chapter 1 of How to be a Playa (which I also wrote).
On a serious note, I’m always honest in my blog other than when I’m going for a laugh. If you read this post and didn’t realize that it falls under this category, well, then, shame on me.
This was a delightfully painless Monday after a great weekend. Have a great week!
The summer is flyin by, and I’m not happy. Gotta make the most of it while we can, folks. Ive been trying to, but that’s only part of the reason why Ive been seriously slacking with the posts…believe it or not, Ive actually been busting my ass at work. Despite my best efforts to evade acknowledgment and remain anonymous in all aspects of the company other than the payroll, word got out that I actually exist and have the capacity to tackle a larger workload. Sons of bitches…
Here’s another patented ramble to update you on my life, and ruminations on everything relevant (to me) outside of it:
•Just back from a weekend down on the Jersey Shore, where I stayed at my friends awesome beach house. Saturday was a fucking monsoon and I got kicked out of the water because the sissy lifeguards were afraid of the raging lightening. Wimps. Sunday made up for it though…started the day early and got in plenty of sun, and my arabian skin did great under the pressure (I only used SPF 8 sunblock). Came back to work today lookin extra crispy, wearing white to accentuate the contrast, which made all the home-bodies in my office hate my guts. Mission accomplished.
•Reading Things Fall Apart right now. It was assigned in college but I Sparknote’d that biatch. My friend Andrew gave me a spare copy and I thought I should actually read it, being it’s a classic and I haven’t read any other books set in Africa. More to come on this. No spoilers, please.
•I lost my phone in a taxi after it fell out my pocket. No one called or tried to return it. I hate that. Ive found phones before and went to crazy lengths to get it back to the owner. Feels pretty crappy, cuz I know someone found it… Ah well, I have insurance cuz I know I always lose or damage my phones; the list is pretty impressive. I’ve dropped a phone down a sewer grate, in the toilet, in four feet of snow and couldnt find it, one fell on the street and got ran over by a truck…I could go on for a while. That’s why I am the only person in the world who has no interest in an iPhone…I know Im gonna lose that shit in a week. Not much of a gadget person anyway…long as I can make a phone call and it’s smaller than the one Zack Morris used to pull out of his ass in Saved By the Bell, then I’m all good.
•SPORTS. Ok, plenty of quick thought, cuz each is deserving of it’s own post… Brett Favre is a selfish bastard and the Packers are assholes for now declaring that he can compete for the starting QB job, after all this freaking talk about being committed to Aaron Rodgers. They totally gave in to this drama queen. They drafted Brian Brohm because Favre said for the 716th time that he was definitely hanging up his helmet. He put the Packers in such a bad spot, and for that reason alone they shouldve had the stones to move on. Federer is losing his #1 ranking, but is still the best player in the world. I think he’s gonna bounce back in a big way, and people are nuts for prematurely predicting his demise. Manny to the Dodgers is good for both teams. He is gonna play great there (a motivated Manny is the most dangerous hitter in the league), and the Red Sox dont deserve the negative backlash theyve gotten since the trade. That team won 2 championships because of team chemistry, and Manny gave up on them and called out management on a daily basis. Francona is the best skipper in the league and he needs respect from everyone in his clubhouse. They gave up a lot, but in getting Jason Bay and ridding themselves of a clubhouse cancer, theyre a contender that will only get better. Team USA basketball is looking great in their tuneups, and D-Wade is STRAIGHT UP NASTY. Do not sleep on this man!! He lost some luster in the eyes of many the last two years because of serious injuries, but somehow he looks more explosive than ever and has been their #1 highlight reel so far (and he’s a only sixth man). I’m not afraid to say it: USA Basketball is gonna dominate the Olympics. Write it down, bitches. Ron Artest to the Rockets? I’d be lying if I said I’m sure it’s gonna work, because Artest truly does deserve his rep as a headcase. But the conditions are as good as they can be, as he’s playing for a coach who he actually respects, in a system he can benefit from, will be asked to contribute offensively and handle the ball at times, which will make him happy since he’s always clamoring about not being utilized offensively, and Shane Battier can come off the bench as a top sixth man who can play multiple positions. The Rockets are my fav team after the Knicks, and, if by some strange turn of events the Knicks do not win a championship this year, I want the Rockets to go all the way. T-Mac is too damn good to never get out of the first round.
•McCain is a dirty bastard and his attack ads are ridiculous. Trying to knock Obama as a leader by comparing calling him a celebrity in the likes of Paris Hilton and Britney Spears? That shit is weak.
What a loser. Later y’all.
I was watching videos of George Carlin on youtube and man, that dude was a genius. RIP man. The great satirists just have a skill for cutting through the bullshit and explaining things to people in a way that not only makes sense, but is also funny as hell. And it’s not just about politics — it’s about all of the many forces and waves tugging at and crashing around us that try to move us, shape us, scare us so that they can then be the ones to comfort us, and turn us into sheep so that they can herd us into cages locked the second we let others think on our behalf.
But the greats like Carlin and Bill Maher and Jon Stewart clear the fog a bit. Not to say you should believe whatever it is that they say, but if you listen, youll notice that theyre not telling you what to believe, like your politicians, parents, teachers, and priests (rabbis/imams) do; theyre telling you to open up your eyes and start thinking for yourself.
Here are a few great clips i came across:
this one explains why I am a francophile:
More videos to come, but I have to leave the office before they make me do work.
ciao
My new nephew, born Saturday. I’m proud to say that he doesn’t resemble an alien as much as most newborns usually do.
But in a polluted world, he may come to resemble one. He might breathe in too many exhaust fumes and his two eyes could merge into one big eye in the middle of his forehead. I think that happened to some kid in Azerbaijan last year, or some other place youve never heard of. A cyclops baby would have a hard life. What if he needed glasses? He’d have to strap a monocle to his head. I dont think his insurance would cover that. And what if he walks by a cute girl and winks at her? He’d walk into the pole he didn’t see while his eye was closed. He would be laughed at, mocked, driven to seclusion, and write a book no one would read.
Im keeping an eye on my nephew’s future.
Seriously though, I can’t help but think of him now while I read the news…I wonder what the world is gonna be like for him when is an adult. It scares me a little. But then I remember that the world he will live in will be the world that WE have created for him, the world that we are creating right now. What more motivation can we ask for in order to start taking care of our planet…and of each other?
I’ll offer a tip for those of you who need help getting the ball rolling: consume less. It’s so freaking easy to do. Buy a sturdy water bottle that you can refill with your own filtered water. That simple task can save you hundreds of dollars a year by avoiding bottled water costs; eliminates the need to dispose of the bottles; decreases the demand for goods in plastic bottles which in turn saves millions of barrels of oil that are used to make all that plastic, increasing the supply and driving down costs so you also save at the pump; decreases our consumption of declining fresh water resources (at least in some cases, because many brands of bottled water get their product from the same sources at public tap water); and makes our world a lot cleaner.
Of course my brother would not want you to read this… he keeps telling me about the yuppies who come into his store and buy bottles of Fiji water for $4 a pop. You guys are making him a rich dude.
But the fact is, in effect, the real cost is much greater. I hope it’s worth it to you.
Here are my favorite ways to safely vent when something really pisses me off or when Im just having an all around shitty day:
1- Curse. Thats the beauty of curses — they are words that have a strong meaning, but theyre still just words. Observe: “Hey dude, FUCK YOU!” See? I expressed my rage, but I dont really wanna fuck the dude in question. And I put so much effort into the expressive FUCK YOU pose that I actually let off some steam there. Just dont curse out someone bigger than you…then it would cease being safe.
2- WORK OUT. When I started working for a big financial firm my brother advised me: “When you get stressed out, dont start using heroine, like most of your coworkers. Just go to the gym and take all the stress and channel it into your workout.” Seriously, Ive reached new limits at the gym by going when Im really pissed, and Im on the road to dieselness as a result. Thanks for making me work last Saturday, douche bag boss. Im gonna turn that into washboard abs, get really sexy, and screw your wife.
“Yea, I’m gonna need you to go ahead and work this weekend, mmkaay? That’d be greAaat.” This dude will have you cleaning out your ab lines with a Q-tip in no time.
3- Call your best friend and ramble in a really loud voice about everything thats stressing you out. A good best friend will let you do 95% of the talking, interjecting only occasionally to express understanding or empathetic rage (e.g. “What, she really did that?? Youre right, she is a fucking whore!”). Keep going until youre exhausted and youll find yourself able to conclude the call by saying, yea this fuckin sucks but, whatever dude, I guess shit happens. And isnt that the goal of venting? I think it is.
4- WRITE. I was gonna include this as a variation of #3 because writing can be a form of rambling, but writing is different in a way because it takes longer and, most importantly, it’s tangible. You can see what youve written, read it over, and edit it. Editing it is really important because it can be a slow process, and reviewing your rambled writing really forces you to think conscientiously about what youre feeling. Taking care to memorialize your thoughts can be incredibly therapeutic. The final draft often coincides with a feeling of closure, and you can move on after that. Blogs are a great option. Some prefer writing with their own blood on the doors of people that broke their hearts. Either works fine. (Crap I forgot that these are supposed to be safe ways…that’s really limiting. Ok…use fake blood…or ketchup. But trust me, it’s not as effective.)
5- CHOKE A PUPPY. Preferably a small one. A poodle perhaps. YES!…Im just imagining myself walking in the ritzy Upper East Side and jumping one of those filthy rich snooty ladies, pulling the pure bred groomed poodle out of her $2000 leather bag and choking it until its tail stops wagging. Wow thats already cheering me up, and Im not even stressed out! This method IS safe (for you, not the puppy) as long as the poodle doesnt have sharp teeth and the lady doesnt have pepper-spray.
Ok FINE #5 is not a good way to vent, but I forgot what #5 was supposed to be and I cant remember for the life of me.
Im open to suggestions.
Ive been saying for a while now that I want to live abroad, for a short while at least, and experience life in a completely different environment. Ive begun to travel a lot recently, but that has only motivated me even more to get off my ass in pursuit of adventure. I have a great job here in NY, some stability, friends…but there are other great places besides NY, my friends will still be here and I can make new ones anywhere, and stability at 23 is kind of overrated. It sounds romantic, but living abroad for a while is becoming an itch that I have scratch.
Actually, it’s more like an infected, open wound. Why? Because getting a Visa in the EU (my preferred destination) is so damn hard. What happened to the good old days when an American could just go and settle anywhere he wanted just because he was an American? OK I don’t know if those days ever existed, but I think it was easier before because Americans never fell into the group of skill-less mass migrants who threatened to rely on public assistance; American workers generally had more money and skills and were usually a boon to foreign economies. But the way things have been going, the EU has its own surplus of skilled and educated workers, and work visas are much more easily obtained by laborers from third world economies than skilled foreign competition.
Being an American sure has lost its luster. What the hell, Europe! Dont you want me to bring democracy to your people! Freakin commies…
My company won’t relocate me to a European office because, frankly, Im not nearly important enough here to warrant visa sponsorship. I don’t feel like studying abroad just so that I can get a work visa, which is what I really want — that would be way too expensive. Basically, unless I marry me a Frenchie, I’m on the outside lookin in.
Chicago is looking like the more likely destination if I plan on getting my ass out of NY anytime this decade.
I texted this message to my friend on my way back from dinner, where I discovered that someone I care about is huge liar and hypocrite. It was a depressing discovery because I had a lot of respect for him before… my friend wanted to know how the dinner went, and here is the message I sent, in it’s original texted format:
Not too bad. But bad. I need to start doing drugs. Numbness is good. Short term at least. Words have limits. Theyre pretty worthless. But powerful. Weird. Limited, worthless…but so powerful. Mayb the impact is a result of the realization that theyre worthless…when you didnt believe them to be b4. Thats powerful.
Relax, Im oK i swear.
I dunno how I feel about this now, as I read what I wrote…I guess words arent totally worthless, cuz if they are, why am i even writing this? But maybe words are just the conduit through which we share our thoughts and feelings…ourselves…making words shallow in and of themselves, yet precious in effect. Hypocrisy, more than anything I think, illustrates that words are nothing in and of themselves, and that they derive meaning from their source. I’m gonna start paying as lot more attention to the source going forward.
Whatever. Words are overrated sometimes. I’m gonna bike to the park and lay on the grass for a while.
I was so glad to read this story.
I wrote about the plight of Khalid al-Masri in this post back in October, describing the disgraceful US Supreme Court decision to exercise a loophole and avoid hearing the case of man who was abducted, sent to Afghanistan where he was tortured and interrogated, and then later abandoned by the CIA. But al-Masri hasn’t given up yet. Along with a growing bastion of supporters, he is again putting pressure on the German government (he is a German citizen) to acknowledge what was done to him hold accountable the agents involved.
The ACLU has taken up his case in the US. We’ll see how far that goes.
Good for al-Masri for sticking to his guns and having the courage to relive this horrible ordeal in order to expose governmental corruption and receive the public apology he desrves. I hopes he gets a few billion out of it as well..though a billion dollars probably only exchanges to something like 3.5 euros. Good luck dude.
To read more about this case, click here.
Weren’t we here in NY just complaining 2 weeks ago about how we were enduring an impossibly long winter, causing us to wear sweaters deep into May? And now were on the verge of topping 100 degrees in early June, setting a new record? And this humidity is like an energy-zapping parasite that drains the life out of people. You can’t breathe out there. This is scary to me because even though we all know by now that industrialism has taken toll on the environment, the rate of tangible change is more rapid than I ever thought possible. I grew up here, and the weather was so different then. I can imagine telling my kids this story one day:
“When I was your age, we had 4 seasons.”
“Wow, really papa! Is that true? Four whole seasons!”
“That’s right kids. Summer, winter, and two things called Spring and Autumn. They were magical things. We had breezes, and air you could breathe easily.”
“Wow papa! Can you tell us the seasons story again!”
“Sure. When I was you age…”
Be sure to hold onto your Spring and Autumn memories so you can tell your kids about them one day.
Oh, and also….START TAKING CARE OF THE FREAKING ENVIRONMENT by conserving as much as you can and being conscious of the effects of your consumption. We only have one world. Let’s take care of it.
This really pissed me off. I’m going to Turkey for a few months on vacation; it has always been my dream vacation. I think about it as a crossroads of modern human history, where so many civilizations have made their mark on the world, a mark whose beauty is reflected today in the diversity of the Turkish culture.
That’s why I was so pissed off by the news report today that the Turkish High Court overturned a legal change issued by Prime Minister Erdogan that would allow women to where the headscarf at Turkish universities on the grounds that the change violated laws protecting Turkish secularism.
Read that sentence again. The purpose of the overturned legal change wasn’t to require women to wear the headscarf; it was to allow women who choose to wear it to attend a Turkish university.
I know the history of Turkey is complex and that there is a strong general desire to protect secular laws from religious extremism, but this isn’t a question of zealotry or “Islamism” or security. It is a question of liberty, justice, and equality. Secularism can be maintained while preserving individual liberties. These kind of laws cannot be made to assuage irrational fears; think about where the U.S. would be if lawmakers and courts never took a stand against irrational and often ignorant public opinion. The decision of the high court is appalling because Turkey is trying so hard to kiss EU ass and prove that it is progressive, yet refuses to pass laws securing individual liberties for it’s own citizens (the other well known grievance is the strict code of expressive censorship Turkey enforces). The courts are also considering banning Erdogan and his widely popular AKP party from politics altogether…they have banned entire parties in the past and are expected to do it again here.
Obviously there are many other countries in the same boat, but I guess I just expect more from Turkey. I am also especially sensitive to human rights violations that are validated by the courts…I place a lot of faith in court systems as the guardians against corruption, and I feel indignant when they instead become the purveyors of it (I wrote about a similar story a few months ago regarding a US supreme court decision).
Here’s hoping that Turkey can be a place where all people are afforded equal rights, and that any protests that result from this decision are widespread, yet peaceful.
Five minutes. Yea, it didn’t go so well. I’m slightly ashamed.
On the other hand, the ice cream I’m eating right now is so damn good.
I started thinking about cutting animal products out of my diet after reading a lot of blogs about how vegan and raw food diets can really transform the way we look and feel, for the better. The testimonials are boundless in praise, relating the stories of people who swear to have twice the energy, half the fat, buns of steel, filled in bald spots, whiter teeth, better LSAT scores, cheaper gas, and farts that smell like roses. And as I’ve been becoming more health conscious, cutting the crap out of my diet and going to the gym more, I said to myself, hey, I want me some roses. And if I can avoid the 2-hour long food coma that I endure after most hearty servings of meat, then that would be an added bonus.
So the next day I wake up ready to live the lean-and-green life. I usually walk straight to the kitchen from bed to make coffee and a small breakfast. That usually includes eggs. (Mmm. Soft, warm, creamy eggs. Vegan diet or not, eating too many eggs probably isn’t good for you, but I haven’t slowed down..theyre so easy to make, can be prepared in so many ways, and are just about the best thing in the world for breakfast. God made eggs so that people could eat breakfast. It’s true.) Clearly, I knew ahead of time that I couldn’t eat eggs if I wanted to be a vegan. I’d just find something else to eat.
Easier said than done.
Cereal? Need milk. Oatmeal? Need milk. (oatmeal with water is NOT an option). Soy milk is an option, just not a good one, far as I’m concerned (although ice cold chocolate soy milk is delicious). Cheese? Uhh, no can do. Bread? Ok, I can eat bread. Let me spread some butter on that…crap, can’t eat butter. Fruit? Why not… oh wait, that orange in my fridge is a big ball of penicillin…ok, how about that banana. Yes, bananas are great. I’ll have a banana with my coffee..my black coffee. Ugh, I don’t drink black coffee. Guess I will today…gonna have to go a little heavy on the sugar though…there, ok, not too bad. Damn, I’m still hungry. What’s that shiny thing over there? It’s a little heart shaped chocolate thingy…mmm, little heart shaped chocolate thingy looks tasty. Yes it’s the morning, but only good things can come from a little heart shaped chocolate thingy. Gotta get this damn foil wrapper off…mmmm, this is some delicious milk chocolate. Oh, CRAP.
As is usually the case with diets, chocolate was the culprit.
Yes, MILK chocolate. As in anti-vegan chocolate. Ehh, whatever dude. Throw some eggs on the griddle and let me get back to reality.
Now, I know that there were plenty of other things I could have eaten; I’m only pretending to be this ignorant, I swear. But the truth is that being a vegan – or making any other radical change to your diet, or any other daily routine – takes a lot of planning, especially when you start. You need to really make a commitment to it, and that means shopping properly so that you don’t feel like you’re denying yourself every time you see a heart shaped chocolate thingy staring you down. And there are actually plenty of things a vegan can eat…
…but not too many things that don’t cost twice as much as stuff a vegan can’t eat. Vegan-friendly food, and even healthy food in general, is expensive. Everything is expensive these days, but go to a health food store and stock up for a week, and then go to a regular supermarket and compare the bills. It’s crazy! I cringe every time I pass by the produce stand near me and see the price of avocados (my favorite thing in the world…$2 each!), but I still manage to eat healthy by sticking to basic vegetables. And though I save money by never buying prepared foods, I still sacrifice by rarely buying things I love to eat cuz they cost too much — fish, red meat, good cheese, fancy condiments — and being a vegan would take the sacrifice thing to a whole new level.
Not only is price a concern, but the ingredients found in a diverse vegan diet — what planet are they from? Try to make some vegan and raw food diet recipes and you’ll find yourself in Mongolia looking for a rare root that grows only in the mountains between June 4 and June 12. Wheatgrass, hemp seeds, bee pollen, seaweed..this stuff is not found in the typical Queens supermarket. Goya does not make tofu seasoning.
Dinner? Do I look like a freaking rabbit? Diets like this are what make Ben & Jerry’s so successful.
Vegan and raw food diets become especially difficult if you’re trying to cut down on the carbs. It would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t mind eating rice and pasta for dinner every night, but I do, because I’m trying to cut down my body fat and get in shape. That bread I saw that morning for breakfast? i could have eaten it with peanut butter and that would have been fine. But I don’t want a big piece of bread for breakfast every morning…I love it, but it isn’t great for you and it gets boring after a while. Take out the carbs, and these diets become damn near impossible.
Of course I know that it CAN be done, and many people do it everyday. But instead of making a huge leap, I’m just gonna take it one step at a time. I’ve started by adding a lot more veggies to my diet, and have gotten used to eating less meat. After that I can work on cutting back on the eggs and milk. As for the sweet treats like ice cream and chocolate, I actually prefer sorbets and dark chocolate anyway, and buying expensive fresh fruits can be my reward for eating well. I doubt I’ll ever come to the point where I’m having a seaweed shake for lunch every day, but I don’t have to in order to enjoy a healthy diet. I think the moral of the story is that as long as we are conscious of what we are putting into are bodies and moderate our intake, a healthy lifestyle can be achieved.
I’ll start right after I finish this ice cream.
Ay Dios Mio.
If you’re gonna punish an animal like a human, shouldn’t the animal be given human rights? I highly doubt the Donkey was Mirandized, or even given a phone call. And good luck providing him with a jury of his peers…I’d love to voir dire that one.
Not only that, but I have evidence proving that the Donkey was drugged and incapacitated against his will prior to the alleged assault, and therefore cannot be held responsible for his actions:
PETA would have a field day with this.
People are weird. Especially people you meet online. And if you’re planning on letting these weird people you meet online rent out your apartment, do yourself a favor and think about it real hard.
I’m planning on going away for a few days and figured I’d try to recoup some of the money I’m spending on my trip by following the lead of a few friends and renting out my apartment when I’m not there. Basically, the idea is that if you’re going away for a while on vacation, and being you in a tourist hot-spot, there would probably be a bunch of people who’d be willing to rent out your place while they are in town. Sure, my place might be considered a slight downgrade from the Mandarin Oriental, but it’s a nice apartment in a great location, and not staying in a five-star hotel means that the guest won’t pay five-star prices. I’m just looking for a normal dude who wants a cheap, comfy place to sleep and shower. Not too much to ask for, right?
OK, the view from the Mandarin is pretty nice… but my fire escape/laundromat view is right up there.
Well, it didn’t quite work out that way for me.
I put an ad on craigslist and only got one response (I posted it kinda late). I spoke to the woman on the phone and she sounded really polite and sincere. She was visiting from Florida and her parents were visiting from India, and they have family that lives in the area, but they didn’t want to stay with them (understandably). We arranged for her parents, who were already in town, to come see the place that night.
So they get there, and they seem normal enough. Pretty quiet. They bring their brother-in-law. He goes into the bathroom and stays there for five minutes. I’m near the door. No tinkling sounds. This dude is totally snooping through my meds…or taking them (was actually hoping he’d take some deodorant, because the dude was stank). The parents are walking around, not saying much but exchanging a few comments in Hindi. We start shooting the breeze a bit, and they seem very friendly and interesting. By now the brother-in-law is laying on my couch, perusing my coffee table books. Things are going well with the parents, until:
Mother: Your apartment is very nice.
Me: Thank you.
Father: But, uh, can you move some things?
Me: Huh? Oh yea, sure, I’ll clear space on the dresser for you guys to put your things on, no problem.
Father: No, uh, other things.
Me: What things?
Father: These things (pointing to picture frames littered throughout the room) and those things (pointing to the posters on my wall).
Me: What? You want me to take down my pictures and posters?
Father: Uhh Yes. Yes.
Me: Why? You know this only for a few days, right?
Father: Yes.
Me: So then…? (giving a wtf are you talking about look)
Father: Maybe someone will come who doesn’t like those posters and these other things.
Me: What? Why not? Who will come? Are you planning on having guests?
(Father abruptly pulls out a phone and starts talking to someone in Hindi for 3 minutes, then turns back to me)
Father: (Looking at wife, then me) OK, we will be frank. Some people will come to see us here. (pause) And they cannot see these things. (pause) We would not keep these things in our house. (pause..notices my intensifying glare) OK, because, we are going to tell them that we live here. That this is our apartment. So we cannot have these pictures. You see now…you know the truth!
Me: But, how would, why would, are you saying that..
Father: Yes YES exactly! You see now! I am a hindu priest, I cannot have these things! Hookah? No I don’t smoke a hookah, you have to hide this. And these children [in the pictures], they know my daughter, these are not my children. You see now!?
Me: ………..
Mother: You don’t have to take down everything.
Father: No, no. Just this, that one, these things, yes just take them down, those things, yes see it can come down quickly (nearly ripping poster)..
Me: Don’t touch that poster!
Father: Ok you can do that later of course. Ok so here is some money where do I sign?
Me: Um yea I don’t know about this..
Father: Oh yes dont worry here take the money we have to go now take the deposit call my daughter to arrange dont worry heresthemoneycalldaughter.
(Door closes behind them)
Ok. WTF just happened? Telling people they live here? How many freaking people were they gonna have over? Why would they lie about that? What else are they lying about? If there weren’t posters that wouldve busted there cover and would have been impossible to discreetly remove, would they have bothered to tell me this? I doubt it. And I don’t like the idea of them moving all of my pictures, plaques, posters, arab-esque decor and anything else suggesting that this apartment is not usually inhabited by a conservative Hindu Indian couple in their 60s, which would be a whole lot of stuff. I’m not trying to come home and re-decorate my apartment, or worse, see something missing and have to put a 60 year old Hindu priest in a head-lock. Not to mention the fact that they seemed ready to have a Diwali party in my apartment (I thought that wouldn’t be a concern with 60+ year old guests)… and if I came home to see the tall, lanky brother-in-law sitting on the couch, wearing my underwear and watching a pay-per-view bollywood movie, I’d have to kick his ass, then just set my apartment on fire and find a new place to live.
Actually coming home to this Diwali party would be pretty fun…
Even if none of this actually happened, having these thoughts run through my head is not my idea of peace of mind, and that is something even more valuable than the small amount of money I wouldve gained for the short rental. How much value it has to you is something you should strongly consider if you’re ever in the same boat.
Last night I went to bed at 2AM, much later than usual, and even then I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too busy formulating arguments, acting out imagined confrontations, and wondering how their consequences would shape my future. I was thinking about remote places I could move to so that I could avoid similar confrontations, then chided myself for entertaining the idea that even an ocean would provide a carpet vast enough for me to sweep my demons under. Sure, Fiji is pretty far away, but the demons that inhabit my head would still be within a whisper’s reach…unless I could somehow unscrew my head and punt it into orbit. Yet even then, would I finally find solace, or would what once were whispers turn into ear-splitting screams, increasing in pitch after every attempt to drown them out?
Probably the latter. But I didn’t go quite this far last night in bed. I was just pissed. I had just finished a two and half hour long “conversation” with my older brother. We barely speak unless we have to, and these days, I strongly prefer that arrangement. He does not. He wants me to call him more often, and he wants me to want to call him more often. He wants to be close, the way were raised to be, the way brothers are supposed to be. To many this may sound logical and wouldn’t be the subject of much debate. But when dealing with personal relationships, especially familial ones, how can there be a blueprint for the way they are “supposed to be”? Don’t all siblings have different relationships with each other? Relationships are based on mental and emotional connections between people. If every person is different, would not a relationship reflect that distinctiveness? Shouldn’t it?
The problem lies partially in the fact that my brother has an idea of the kind of relationships brothers should have, and he wants ours to conform to it. But I don’t feel that way. Not that brothers should not be close, but rather the relationship should be built on that mental and emotional connection, rather than the inherent physical one that family members are born into. I do believe that there is something innately unique about the familial bond, the idea of a shared origin and history. But I also feel that my brother, and many other people, get too lost in the melodrama of “the same blood coursing through our veins” bullshit and forget the bottom line – I’m and adult, you’re an adult, I’m this way, you’re that way, I believe this, you believe that…and in this case, I believe that you’re way of being and adult makes you an asshole.
There, it’s out in the open, sitting on the table both of us were envisioning in our minds as we spoke on the phone. A little box that my brother’s astral form walked over to and opened, pulling out the sweater that my astral form knitted for him. It was a thick, heavy sweater with an unattractive horizontal stitch that made him look fatter than he was. And in the middle of the sweater, it read, “ASSHOLE.”
He refused to wear the sweater, of course. I tried to explain to him in a sincere and sympathetically blunted fashion why it was a perfect fit for him, but when I held it up to his chest and he stole a glance in the mirror, he didn’t like what he saw, and threw it back in the box. But I explained to him that I didn’t knit that sweater alone; he had been knitting it with me, guiding every pierce and pull and knot of thread. Whether or not it looked the way he wanted it to look is irrelevant. We both made the fucking sweater. Wear it, Goddamit. I’m sick of hearing that the sweater should read “BROTHER” instead. If you want, you can make it read “ASSHOLE BROTHER”…but he never relented because he didn’t believe that the two words could form a meaningful phrase.
But you know they can. You have a sibling. You share a deep bond that will probably last your entire lives. You say you probably love him or her in a way…but really you know you do and just don’t like talking about it. You haven’t had such a fucked up lifetime movie-esque past that would cause you to completely deny those feelings, or to outright abandon them. But you can love someone and still dislike them. How you interact and socialize with someone on a regular basis – not when compelled to by circumstance, but rather on the basis of trust and comfort – will be governed by whether or not you like that person, rather than by virtue of a shared genetic code that too often unravels and takes the shape of a noose that tightens with every struggle.
Unlike my brother, I am OK with not being that close; our relationship is 23 years in the making, and I accept it for what it is. I cannot will myself to change how I feel about him, nor will I attempt to in an effort to recreate p. 17 of the Happy Family Handbook. I am not against change, but if it happens it will happen naturally, just like it always has. I am lucky enough to have people in my life who I genuinely like and trust and can count on for support, mainly close friends. And while my brother spent a lot of time last night on the phone trying to impress upon me the fact that friends can never be family, and warning me that they cannot be counted on the way a brother can, my past and recent experiences, as well as my observations of the experiences of others, have proved to me that anyone who believes this has not been blessed enough to experience true friendship. Your brother or sister may also be your friend, but then again, they may not be one at all. My brother was quick to regurgitate what he felt were time-tested nuggets of traditional wisdom, but given that he has proven himself to be unworthy of my trust, they were interpreted to me as nothing more than clichés – hollow and meaningless, and certainly inapplicable. I can’t help but imagine someone sitting in small lonely boat out on a lake, hookless, baitless fishing lines deeply submerged, floating stationary and lifeless as the fish swim by, attentive but not persuaded.
What I’m trying to say is that while family ties are special, they should not be taken for granted so as to simply assume that they can forge and maintain a healthy relationship amongst those between whom they exist. It is not that easy. Meaningful relationships rarely are, and they shouldn’t be. Trust may lie in the heart, but it is not necessarily bound by blood. And while the grounds for closeness might be more fertile in the family plot, it also requires a hell of a lot more water. If it’s important to you, you would be wise to tend to it often, because even if the flowers never completely dry up, it is actually quite easy for them to grow apart.
ZuNormous 
