momentary flashes of inspiration

Call me old fashioned...

2007-12-10T23:17:00.000-05:00

...but I like my men without makeup. I know, I know, how terribly last century of me. The thing is, I quite like manbags and mannies and metrosexuals. And I wish I knew more guys who cry at sad movies. But, I draw the line at guyliner! (I didn't mean to pun, I swear, it just slipped out!)

The article quotes Pete Wentz dispensing advice on how a guy should apply eyeliner: "Smear it because when you're a guy, you don't really want your makeup to look perfect."

Ummm... sure, Pete. How about: when you're a guy, you don't really want to be wearing makeup, perfect or not.

The article does point out that plenty of guys have been wearing eyeliner for a while now. True. But -- and I'll say this as slowly as possible -- Jack Sparrow is fic-tion-al. Johnny Depp is an ac-tor. And as for the rest, do you really want to look like David Bowie?

Or Prince.

Or Marilyn Manson.

Think about it.

Apparently there are some regular joes out there with a clandestine eyeliner habit. At a beauty store in the DC area, about one guy a week buys an eye pencil, but usually behaves like he has a dirty little secret. Perhaps it's unfair that women are allowed to play with the gender lines to a much greater extent -- when was the last time a guy made a comment about a woman wearing boy-cut pants or cutting her hair nearly entirely off without being labeled an MCP?

Then again, PMS, pregnancy and higher wages for men aren't fair either. So, give us back the damn eyeliner and be a man.

And now, the bad news...

2007-11-17T00:09:00.000-05:00

Huh. Just when things seem to be looking up, we're brought crashing back to earth. The (rather depressing) results of another study:

“We found that men did put significantly more weight on their assessment of a partner’s beauty, when choosing, than women did. We also found that women got more dates when they won high marks for looks.”

He continued: “By contrast, intelligence ratings were more than twice as important in predicting women’s choices as men’s. It isn’t exactly that smarts were a complete turnoff for men: They preferred women whom they rated as smarter — but only up to a point ... It turns out that men avoided women whom they perceived to be smarter than themselves. The same held true for measures of career ambition — a woman could be ambitious, just not more ambitious than the man considering her for a date.

“When women were the ones choosing, the more intelligence and ambition the men had, the better. So, yes, the stereotypes appear to be true: We males are a gender of fragile egos in search of a pretty face and are threatened by brains or success that exceeds our own.”

Seriously. With all the so-called progress civilization's supposed to have made, how can these stereotypes still play out in real life? I mean, aren't we as a species supposed to, like, evolve?? It's so pathetic -- but, sadly, not really new news. As women, we're still conditioned by society to play down the "smarts" factor -- admitedly, my very smart mother tried to drive that idea out of my head. And she was successful, to a point. But if I'm totally honest, I have to admit I do play down my more serious "intellectual" side when I meet a new guy, especially if I'm considering dating him. Ugh. It seems even worse when I say (write) it out loud!

But, and what gives me hope, is that I actually know a few (very very few) men who defeat all kinds of stereotypes -- who aren't threatened by the women in their lives, whose egos are so secure, they can handle any degree of ambition or perceived intellectual superiority.

And seriously, which losers are sitting around measuring intelligence anyway? High standardized test scores, Ivy League degrees and the like aren't really a good measure of absolute intelligence. Those things maybe influence earning potential and job opportunity. But making a lot of money does NOT directly correlate to intelligence. Trust me. And I say that as someone who thoroughly enjoyed her own Ivy League education. We're not better than you.

Well, maybe I am. But, sshhh.. I still want to be able to get dates!

Hips Don't Lie

2007-11-13T20:20:00.000-05:00

This was exactly the kind of news I needed to hear first thing in the morning!

It is already known that curvaceous women live longer and that men find them more attractive but the new research suggests that they are also cleverer.

The study, to be published this week, shows that men who admire women with hourglass figures do so because they are more intelligent and therefore produce more intelligent children than waif-like women or those of "apple-shaped" proportions.

HAH! Need I say more? Oh, what the hell, let's pull another quote just for fun:

"Shapely hips and thighs hold essential nutrients that nurse brains and could produce smart kids, too," said one researcher, Steven Gaulin, of the University of California at Santa Barbara.

Apparently it's not just "real women" who have curves; smart ones do, too!

Overthinking things

2007-11-04T17:34:00.000-05:00

Among the many thoughts I've spent too many hours on lately:

Growing up sucks. If I could pick an age that I had to be for the rest of my life, it would be 21. Old enough for the fun stuff. Young enough to not have too many responsibilities.

Is it better to have material privileges that come with emotionally challenging hurdles or little material privilege but a lot of emotional freedom? I think the latter is preferable. Then again, I was born into the former. Perhaps the grass is greener? I don't know..

Gone With the Wind is a brilliant book and a great movie. But not the best thing to fall asleep to.. How is it that relationships are as complicated in 2007 as they were in 1857? It's been 150 years.. aren't we supposed to evolve??

Certain things should be simple. You work hard, you're rewarded. You're talented, you're rewarded. Period. There should be no "but.."

Waaay too much thinking for someone with limited time. I recently complained to my mother that the whole notion that "your twenties are the best years of your life" is crap. There was a slight pause. And then: "Of course they're not the best years! They're confusing and challenging because you have to make life-changing decisions without being equipped with the maturity and experience to do so."

Great.

Well, at least I know I'm not totally crazy. Apparently, cluelessness is expected.

Phew.

Time Capsule

2007-10-25T22:17:00.000-04:00

When I was younger, I always thought it would be fun to bury a box full of mementos -- photographs, trinkets, letters, whatever -- and then dig it up several years later and spend a day surrounded by nostalgic memories. It all seemed very romantic. Anyway, I never did it. (One major reason being that, unlike in the movies, there were no rolling fields near me where I could bury said treasure box without worrying that some condominiums were going to be built on top of it within a couple years!) But, last week, I unexpectedly had a time capsule thrown into my arms. Actually, there were four. And it was my apartment they were thrown into.

The story goes something like this: when I graduated from college four and a half years ago, I had to pack up my life. I gave away a lot of things, threw away some, shipped several boxes home and took 4 suitcases on the plane with me (yes, I paid a fortune in excess baggage). And then there were the four boxes I packed and left with family friends in Boston.

Cut to 4.5 years later (last week) and the boxes arrive by UPS at my little apartment. I circled them for quite a while, trying to remember what I could have possibly put in there that I didn't miss at all for nearly 5 years. Then, I finally opened them.

Random sampling of the contents:
-large stuffed Tweety Bird
-music box that plays the Pink Panther theme
-Tiffany address book with silver pen
-Ferragamo black pumps
-wrapping paper with "Gift from Rhea" printed on it
-a bag full of stationary
-Mont Blanc business case
-leopard print fur jacket
-photographs from when I was disturbingly thin, photographs from home, photographs from Hong Kong...
...and a bunch of other "stuff."

The great thing about it all was that I didn't remember that I'd packed any of it, barely remembered that I owned any of it, but the minute I saw each thing, I knew how I'd come by it. What was baffling (and also interesting) was pondering over why I'd shipped some really random stuff several thousand miles so that I'd have access to it almost immediately while some of these other things got packed away for several years.. For instance, I took a lot of photos home with me. Yet, I left about 12 albums in one of the stored boxes. Why?? I took back shoes I'd bought at Marks & Sparks. Yet, I left a pair of FERRAGAMOS in a box!! Seriously, why??

Okay, so the experience wasn't quite the romantic scenario I had pictured. I didn't have my treasure box, dug up from some field under some tree after 20 years. But, hey, I live in an urban jungle in the 21st century. Chances are that time capsules will arrive via UPS from someone's basement where they were unearthed during a bout of spring cleaning. But the surprise is still fun. And the nostalgia's still strong.

Wanted: Dead or Alive

2007-10-15T23:44:00.000-04:00

You know what freaks me out whenever I pause to think about it? The idea that there are monsters out and about in the world who routinely abuse living creatures.. like the unknown a**hole from this story:

The city of Paterson and animal welfare activists are searching for the culprit who burned a 3-month-old puppy that was found wandering in city traffic earlier today.

The poor little thing is in critical condition and *might* make it. I saw it on TV, with its big brown eyes and long Hush Puppy ears and it made me cry.

I realize in the grand scheme of things -- i.e. the number of people dying in Iraq or having their human rights violated in Sudan -- one burnt puppy might seem like an odd thing to be so mad about (and I'm seething). But, quite apart from my insane love of dogs, I'm horrified by the implications of the situation. I mean, what kind of human being scalds a 3-month-old puppy to within an inch of its life? And do we want that kind of psycho out on the streets among us? This is a person who abuses the most innocent, the most helpless. This is a predator.

What breaks my heart is that, unlike with humans, there's no way to explain to the little canine why he's in so much pain or why someone would treat him like that. Ugh, human beings can be such bastards.

Foodie Review: Perilla

2007-10-08T18:14:00.000-04:00

So, I'm totally addicted to the Bravo show Top Chef. Which, perhaps, isn't so surprising given I'm a self-professed foodie (my Zagat guide is highlighted, scribbled in and peppered with colorful tabs). Sadly, the third season just ended. Happily, I could still look forward to trying Perilla, season one's winner Harold Dieterle's West Village restaurant.

Apart from being pretty distracted for the few months since the restaurant opened, I wanted to try it once the hype had died down and the kinks had been worked out. So, about a week ago, a friend and I went. My first impression was positive. We had no reservations, so I walked in and asked for a table for two. The hostess was friendly and said it was no problem -- indeed the restaurant was only about half full at 8pm on a Sunday night. I sat at the bar for a little while and took in the room. Casual and unfussy, the room has a warm glow that suggests a neighborhood spot rather than the brainchild of a semi-celebrity chef.

The menu is manageable -- just about 8 appetizers and 8 entrees. I had read Frank Bruni's review in the New York Times and so was eager to try the much-lauded spicy duck meatballs appetizer. E wanted the same thing. Our server was informed and pleasant -- but, when the appetizers arrived, I was mildly annoyed that he had failed to mention that there were 6 meatballs per plate, which means E and I could have easily shared since we wanted the same thing anyway. Instead, we had 12 meatballs between us and neither of us is a big eater. The dish itself was good, though I was slightly disappointed, having expected a little more of a kick given that the meatballs were supposed to be "spicy" as per the name. The meat was tender and the quail egg on top gave it an interesting flavor, but on the whole, I thought (and E concurred) the dish fell a wee bit flat. Perhaps they should just rename it.

For entrees, E opted for a fluke and bokchoy special while I got the sauteed skate wing with pastrami, cabbage and warm mustard sauce, which our server asserted was "such a fun, whimsical dish." The skate was well-cooked and tasty and I quite enjoyed the mustard sauce. However, I'm not convinced the pastrami melded well into the dish. As anybody who's sampled the meat at Katz's or Carnegie can tell you, pastrami has an extremely strong and distinctive taste -- and it was a little overwhelming next to the mild white fish. E's dish married flavors better, but she confessed that she thought it merely good rather than great.

Which is probably a good description of my overall impression of the food at Perilla: good, not great. Even the dessert -- we ordered a fairly safe dark chocolate tart with peppermint ice cream -- was executed well and tasted fine, but I wouldn't necessarily order it again. Still, I suspect the restaurant might have some staying power -- it's good value for money and it's a laidback, friendly place. If I lived in the neighborhood, it's conceivable I'd go back to Perilla. But I can say with some confidence that I wouldn't make a special trip again.

"Visa Issues"

2007-10-08T00:32:00.001-04:00

Now don't get me wrong: I'm proud to be Indian. Without question. The only thing that irks me (if I ignore the rampant poverty, corrupt politicians and widespread bureaucratic inefficiency) are the limitations of having an Indian passport. The tediousness of submitting paperwork for visas to travel to practically every country in the world, the annoying assumption on the part of foreign border control officers that if you're Indian, you must be trying to immigrate, the complications involved in working abroad.. it's frustrating to say the least.

The good news is, I might have found a solution to the ubiquitous "H1B issue." From a website for employment in commercial Alaskan fisheries (nevermind how I got there):

The Alaska International Employer Worker Program exists so that ANY ONE can obtain VISA'S & proper documentation to work in the Alaska fisheries. Alaska is the only state to offer this, and is the easiest way for foreigners to secure employment in the U.S. legally. All that you'll need is an "OFFICIAL LETTER OF EMPLOYMENT" / PETITION from a Captain or Hiring Manager in Alaska. With over 12,000 confirmed backdoor industry contacts to mass-hire recruitment centers provided by a unique list of Alaska Employment Sites, in our Job Guide, all that is needed is a quick phone call and filled-in application.

Now, why didn't I think of this before?!?

Apparently, if you're an "able-bodied individual and are eager to work for potentially high rewards" this just might be the job for you!

Able-bodied? Check.
Eager for high rewards? Hell yeah!

I'd be making that "quick phone call" this minute myself if it weren't for the one teeny detail that's a deal-breaker (and no, it's not the inevitable stench of fish) -- it's A-L-A-S-K-A. With that level of cold, the rewards need to be a damn sight better than "potential."

Plumbing

2007-09-30T13:56:00.000-04:00

I haven't abandoned my blog. Really. I've just had a form of blog-writer's block (I can't have general writer's block seeing as that's how I earn a living).

It's not so much that I haven't had anything to say or that I haven't known how to say it -- on the contrary, there have been a hundred little (and big) thoughts I've wanted to jot down over the last few months. I think the real problem was that my last post was so overwhelming that every time I wanted to blog again, it seemed like no new post could match up to the intensity of the last one. And that thought would incapacitate me.

Nothing has really changed. My last post will remain the most intense of all my posts. I can't match the sentiment expressed in that one -- nor do I want to. My life changed forever in June and you just can't top that. The difference now -- the reason I'm now daring to blog again -- is that I finally realized that I don't need to keep up such an intense dialogue anymore. It's okay if I want to write about something silly and superficial. It doesn't trivialize the feelings I last expressed here. After all, life's full of serious moments and light ones -- and if you can't get past those sobering times, imagine how depressing life would be.

All by way of saying, I'm officially unblocked. Now, I just need to find the time to write...

Coping

2007-06-26T11:17:00.000-04:00

Death

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
let it be spoken without effort,
without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was;
there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near, just round the corner.

- Henry Scott Holland

An old friend sent me this, saying it helped her through a difficult time. The more I read it, the more sense it makes to me.. That thing about life being the same as it ever was, an "unbroken continuity" -- am realizing how true that is. Think I was almost resentful about it initially. But how can you resent an inescapable truth? Life continues as it always did. Only I have changed in an imperceptable way.

Life or something like it

2007-05-28T00:02:00.001-04:00

How do you define being alive?

Is it defined just by the act of breathing, the beating of a heart, the pumping of blood? Or is it more than that?

Is being alive, being truly alive, a matter of being able to do things with this breathing, beating, pumping body? Being able to dance, sing, walk, run, read a book, laugh, go to work, play some football, cook... how about just being able to really engage with and enjoy your family and friends? And what if you can't do any of that? Is that a life? Or, at least, is that one worth living?

And if it's not worth living, then what can you do about it? What if your body continues to breath, beat, pump? Do you just continue to exist in limbo?

And what about those you plan on leaving behind? Acceptance -- on their part -- calls for a total lack of selfishness. You'd think that would be hard. The funny thing is, it isn't. Not if you believe that a life is more than merely breathing, beating, pumping. Not if you remember who someone was when they were truly alive.

Mmmm..food!

2007-05-20T23:07:00.000-04:00

Since my life didn't seem quite hectic enough, I thought I'd take on freelance assignments from back home.

A piece on NYC's Curry Hill for The Hindu's Business Line.

Fun reading about.. hair

2007-05-12T19:13:00.000-04:00

This is how an article in the Washington Post begins:

Spring, and a young man's thoughts turn to . . . chest hair.

Also, that of the back, the belly, the shoulder and maybe regions farther south. It turns out that there is a hair-removal waxing procedure called the "Boy-zilian," the male equivalent of the Brazilian bikini wax, for which you would have to put your ankle behind your head in order to do it yourself, and we never want to think about that again.

Back north.

Your chest, back, shoulders. Summer beckons. The pool, the beach. Skin revealed. Worries: Slack gut, man-boobs, back fur, being regarded as a metrosexual. You don't want to be prissy (unless you're into that), and yet you don't want to be so hirsute that some guy comes up to you at the pool, going: "Burt? Burt Reynolds?"

You know you're gonna enjoy (and giggle furiously) over an article that begins like that. Interesting insight into the male body obsession. I take vengeful pleasure in knowing we -- women -- aren't the only ones.

The piece also offers helpful hints for potential Christmas gifts :) --

Last summer, a guy named Brett Marut in Santa Monica, Calif., came out with a thing called Mangroomer. It's essentially a shaver on a stick, designed to enable you to reach around and shave your back. He priced it at $39.95, looking to appeal to guys in Flyover, America, who were too self-conscious to go to a salon to get it done, or even let their friends know they were trying it out. He didn't have much money, so he just put a couple of ads on Internet search engines. It was an instant hit, blossomed at online retailers and, 10 months later, Mangroomer is in every Bed Bath & Beyond in the country.

Umm.. can we say, overreaction?

2007-04-26T23:08:00.000-04:00

Shilpa Shetty can't seem to stay out controversy, poor thing. And not usually by her doing.

But seriously, I was apalled and embarrassed to see this ridiculous story splashed all over international media. I caught this latest development on Access Hollywood of all places. And then saw that it had made headlines on pretty much every entertainment news service -- print, broadcast and online.

An arrest warrant? Seriously!?

Okay, so Richard Gere should probably have stopped and thought before he acted. He visits the country (doing good, as people seem to have forgotten) often enough that he should have known better. But he made a mistake -- and I cannot even believe the overreaction. What frustrates me is how "modest" and prudish we like to believe we are as a country when, in reality, that's such bullshit. Everybody's doing it; they're just not talking about it.

Not to mention, I watched the footage and he hardly "smooched" her as was being reported. He kissed her on the cheek a few times, albeit while dipping her in a somewhat suggestive way -- but, please, we see that in the movies (yes, the Bollywood ones) all the time. And nobody's raring to throw SRK in jail. Big screen PDA is a whole lot more publicly "indecent," if that's what we're calling it.

And, of course, what gets convenietly left out is that all this happened at an important event to spread awareness about an important issue. An issue a whole lot more pressing than whether two actors behaved with adequate propriety or not. Where are people's priorities? And don't even get me started on the media. As usual, they missed the bus on what's important and what isn't.

Grindhouse kicks ass

2007-04-14T19:51:00.000-04:00

And Quentin Tarantino rocks my world. Again. And again. What I think is exciting about him is you don't know exactly what you're in for when you sit down at the beginning, but the one thing you do know is that it won't be disappointing.

One thing, though -- he could be less narcissistic -- I mean, seriously, does he have to have a cameo in every movie??

I definitely preferred his film over that of Robert Rodriguez -- though Rose McGowan with her machine gun leg was one of the best parts of both features! (It made me want one.) Still, Planet Terror was a little overdone. Death Proof (Tarantino's), on the other hand, was soooo slick. I loved the random conversations that flowed so beautifully between the characters -- the women all did an amazing job. And the last 15 minutes -- omigod. The ending's a little abrubt. But, somehow, it works.

There was a lot of blood and gore and violence and thrills -- expected. But what I didn't expect was to be clutching my side laughing out loud through much of it. Both Rodriguez and Tarantino played with humor really well. And the trailers! Comic genius.

Grindhouse was totally worth the 3 hours and 15 mins. And I realize it surprises a lot of people that I would even watch it -- the general reaction when I suggested it was "really??" But deep down, I've always wanted to kick some ass with an ammo-loaded limb and a pass to cuss as much as I want.

"Really??"

Fuck, yeah!

Not BBQ weather yet, but...

2007-04-03T23:19:00.000-04:00

It's not quite warm out, but indoor burgers were easier to make than I thought. These are spiced with cumin and paprika and several other spices, so they're almost kebab-like. Which is really great because they can be served as burgers or with pita bread or even with Persian rice and salad. And the garlic curry sauce is just yum (to make it healthier, I substituted most of the mayo with yogurt).

Yes, I am that person who tears pages out of Gourmet and Bon Appetit and files them. And who thinks it's super when one dish can be served in various ways. And who often makes twice the amount and freezes half because it saves time and you never know when you need rainy day food!

It's all about domestic goddessness.

And then there was one...

2007-03-27T23:22:00.000-04:00

One of the defining features of my undergraduate life was "the boys."
"See you guys, I'm off to see the boys."
"Where's Rhea?" "She's probably with the boys."
There were four (the ranks grew over the years, but they were the core).
Completely different characters. Incredibly loyal friendships. Always up for some fun. They expanded, among other things, my music selection, my TV show choices, my bar preferences and my penchant for spontaneity. Life with "the boys" was always interesting. As were the women who popped in and out of their lives.
Cut to 4 years later.
1 married.
2 engaged.
1 to go...
Who would've thunk it?

Where everybody knows your name...

2007-03-23T23:13:00.000-04:00

Most people I talk to about why they love New York say that anonymity is a big factor. They like that nobody really knows them, that they can do whatever and nobody interferes -- "hey, it's your business."

I understand that. I grew up in a fairly big city that had a rather small social circle and yes, everyone always knew what you'd done, who you knew, where you were. Reputations were easy to acquire and hard to shake off.

At the same time, though, there's a lot to be said, to borrow a line from a popular sitcom, for a place "where everybody knows your name." I appreciate that a lot more now than I used to. Back home, there are owners of restaurants who kiss you on the cheek or the bartender at that place who'll keep the establishment open a little longer just so you can have that last drink..

Given New York's anonymous reputation, I didn't think I'd find that here -- and you don't in quite the same way (you can kiss the maitre d' at your local diner perhaps, but not at the hottest table in the city, unless you're, y'know, Gwyneth Paltrow or equivalent). But, despite it's size and the 18 million people stuffed into this city, it's still possible to carve a personalized niche in your neighborhood, as I'm realizing I have. My dry cleaner smiles and waves whenever she sees me passing by. The deli lady near work pulls Honey Nut Cheerios (my preferred mid-afternoon, need-sweet-but-need-healthy snack) off the shelf when she sees me coming. When I haven't been to the convenience store around the corner for a few weeks, they greet me enthusiastically and ask where I've been. Even my sushi delivery place practically knows my order..

(Oh God, have I become a creature of habit??)

Either way, in a city as large and relatively impersonal as New York is, it's nice to know that people do know, if not your name, at least your maki roll preferences.

An "ahhh" weekend

2007-03-19T00:11:00.000-04:00

What's an "ahhh weekend"? It's when you get to Sunday night and instead of pre-Monday blues, you've got the happy glow of 48 hours well spent. Satisfaction to the point where you almost don't mind that it's back to work tomorrow. Almost.

Friday: horrible sleet and pseudosnow and plunging temperatures outside. Ghar ka khana and Dhoom 2 inside. Quite enjoyed the action, the fact that Ash didn't annoy me that much, that Abhishek was in it (period.), and that Hrithik reminded me of a party a few weeks ago where I was told, "God, I thought you were Suzanne Khan for a minute." (not the first time)

Saturday: slept in. Scrambled eggs and cappucinos with an old, old friend I haven't seen in some 5-6 years. Caught up on everyone and everything -- as much as possible in one afternoon ("Remember the time *that girl* pretended to drown and we all nearly got expelled??"). Strolled down 5th Ave, listening to church bells chime, and without realizing it, walked about 40 blocks home. Then on to celebrate St. Patty's with a belated Holi party (!) with much bhangra and filmi music, much dancing and much color.

Sunday: slept in even more. Malaysian lunch with D and her sister at Nyonya (with memories of other recent trips we've made there with "other company"; we're going to start getting preferential treatment). Coffee and conversation. And The Namesake, which was very real, very moving. Thought Kal Penn proved he can do serious roles. Tabu was beautiful (and talented) as ever. Loved the scenes between her and Irrfan Khan. A movie can never quite do justice to a book, but I thought Mira Nair did a pretty good job, considering. Random surprise: childhood friend did the costumes. Then, on to Coldstone Creamery.

Yes, all good weekends end with chocolate.

Simply Red, anyone?

2007-03-11T17:33:00.000-04:00

I don't know when I last spent time thinking about Simply Red. I don't make a habit of thinking about them since there's usually very little to say. But my quest to find "that one good song by that band with the word 'red' in it" began last night at the cute French wine bar on 51st where we were continuing the tradition of champagne with some of the best Kir Royales I've ever had. Anyway, so I thought it was going to be murder to find a song I don't remember the name of by a band I don't remember the name of with lyrics I can't remember from a year I can't remember. But Google's pretty amazing that way. It took just a handful of experimental searches to pull up Simply Red, which sounded right, and then another quick search of Wikipedia (if it's in Wikipedia it must be true) to find "Sunrise." FYI, it was a "hit single" in 2003. So, I guess that's when I last thought about Simply Red.

Good song, though. Very blast from the past-ish. Reminded me of a particular time in my life (which songs tend to do). I think it was being back home after college and reinventing life there with all the changes that had occurred since I'd left. Though, it's quite amazing how much stays the same, too.

Anyway, have spent the better part of a lazy Sunday afternoon playing every "favorite" song (ooh, remember "Return of the Mack"?) from every era I can think of (current favorite is still "Promiscuous") All rather reminscent of those (not-sooo-long-ago) days of hairbrush-mike in hand, hair swinging, dancing around the room. I'm a better dancer now, though. And I've ditched the hairbrush.

Which reminds me of this article I read last week about how scientists think that dancing might be a method of sexual selection. The better the dancer, the more attractive to potential mates -- something about being indicative of good genes. Hmmm... and to think my dad complained that I spent most of my time in college dancing instead of studying. Apparently I knew what was good for me!

February...

2007-03-03T12:52:00.000-05:00

...was a good month. A bit of a ride -- intense and busy, hence the lack of posts -- but a very good ride. Birthday, out-of-town visitors, enjoyable work, out-of-town visitors, parties, friends... did I mention out-of-town visitors??

I could use more "February" in my life.

End of an era

2007-03-02T23:37:00.000-05:00

Okay, perhaps that's a tad dramatic. But my food & wine, activities and general good times partner in crime has left the city. So, I'm entitled to a little drama.

Rox's farewell dinner and drinks affair was... memorable. It was perhaps one of the worst meals and the worst excuse for service I've ever experienced in New York, but hey, we won't soon forget it! I think the best thing I can say about Tao is that it has a sexy, fun atmosphere. But that's where the compliments stop.

The enormous warehouse space was uncomfortably cold (hello, it is still winter, people. Turn on the heat). The food hovered somewhere between mediocre and poor (the miso sea bass was the exception). And our waiter was the antichrist. Apart from the fact that he was pretty clearly racist, there was just something incredibly disturbing about his demeanor, in general. He had vacant eyes, an inability to smile and absolutely no features that would explain why he was hired by the service industry. He hardly said a word the entire night and when he did, it bordered on rude and definitely condescending.

(Needless to say, they've lost a patron in me. I have very little patience for attitude.)

Still, as Rox said, we've rarely ever had uneventful New York experiences -- so this is one more to add to the books. Too bad it was unpleasant-eventful rather than just interesting-eventful on her last night in the City. On the other hand, it probably made leaving easier. And I'm sure new adventures in Hong Kong will make up for everything. So, cheers to that.

PS: I would post a photo of the last supper, but the antichrist was also an appalling photographer -- let's just say his efforts give "Where's Waldo?" a run for its money.

Factory Girl

2007-02-11T23:42:00.000-05:00

I didn't realize Andy Warhol was such an asshole.

Also didn't realize quite how pretty Sienna Miller is until this movie . I think she's better brunette than blond. But I think she was particularly striking because she actually looked like Edie Sedgwick. And, more than that, she did a pretty damn good job being Edie in this film.

The movie itself was both good and weak. I thought the plot line was a little wishy-washy. (Then again, if you viewed it as a pseudo-documentary on Edie Sedgwick's life, maybe it would seem less so.) And there was no real point except to highlight the miserable downward spiral the "poor little rich girl" fell into thanks to Warhol. (Though perhaps the real story of her demise lay in her incestuous relationship with her abusive father, "Fuzzy," but this is glossed over in the film for the most part).

On the other hand, there was some interesting camera work and both Sienna Miller and Guy Pearce gave strong performances as Edie and Warhol respectively. Hayden Christensen as a young Bob Dylan was pretty yummy, too (I've been a faithful fan of his since he was Anakin Skywalker; he singlehandedly made me a Star Wars fan! I know, I know, that's sacriligeously superficial to any true fan..).

In the end it was an inevitably tragic story that stirred something within. I think it could have been a lot more heart-wrenching with a little more depth. Still, it was a movie that placed art at a higher priority than depth. So, it was what it was. I guess it did for me what Requiem for a Dream did -- but on a smaller scale.

Pre-Valentines grumble

2007-02-08T23:38:00.000-05:00

So, I was trying to be gracious this year and not rant about how much I dislike the global Valentines Day mania that not-so-discreetly sets in by the first week of February. Talk about overkill -- aside from Christmas, no other "day" produces close to as much media frenzy. Anyway, in my quest to be neutral (and silent) about the whole thing, I was dutifully changing channels when ads and promos aimed at V-Day came on TV, walking past Hallmark as quickly as possible, ignoring billboards and shop windows sporting absurd red and pink heart-shaped cut-outs...

But, of course, there's a conspiracy to throw me off my path. And I refuse to shut up when Valentines Day is practically shoved through my front door. Or at least stuffed into my mailbox. Yesterday, I went to get my mail, as usual. And there, staring up at me, is this week's Time Out New York (TONY) with this headline splashed across the front: Why You're Single (and what you can do about it).

Seriously now, enough is enough. I'm not one of those bitter, single cat ladies. I actually like my freedom and independence (not that I have anything against relationships; it's just got to be the right time-right person-right place -- you know, the trifecta).

But still. Insulting cover story. Who sat around and thought, well, how can we make the cloying sweetness of V-Day worse? Ooh, here, let's tell single people why they're not fit for love. Now, the story doesn't really personally hit any nerves for me. But I can see how it could for some people. Among other possible reasons, there's the idea that you might not be in a relationship because you're overweight. Isn't that sweet? Happy Valentines Day -- easy on the chocolate!

So, blame this year's rant on TONY. If it wasn't for them, I'd have got through the year okay.

But, don't get me wrong, I love love. I think it's an amazing thing. I was talking to a friend soon after my run-in with the article and he was telling me about his current relationship. And it was lovely. I have nothing against celebrating Valentines Day per se (though I really don't understand why there has to be a "day" for love; wouldn't it be so much more spontaneous and special if the celebration came for no particular reason on any old day?). I just don't like how over the top it's gotten. Me, I still have a soft spot for those hand-made cards from my 6th grade boyfriend.

Lingerie

2007-02-05T18:58:00.000-05:00

Who usually gives you lingerie as a present?

My list of lingerie gift-givers goes something like this:
- Me
- My friends
- Boyfriends
- Parents
...and now:
- Cleaning lady

I've been polling friends in the City who have cleaning ladies -- some of them have never got a gift from said ladies. Others have been bequeathed soap or knick-knacks from the Ukraine or Ecuador or wherever. None of them has ever received lingerie. Especially not the white, stringy, sequinned kind.

What about me says: "I don't really know her that well, there's no particular occassion for a present, but she seems the type to enjoy embroidered delicates"?

Plus she had to guess my size.

And it fit.

I'm not sure which of these many details is the most disorienting...

Perspective

2007-02-03T11:06:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a high adrenaline day. You know, the kind where you're in overdrive, doing a hundred things, thinking a hundred contradictory thoughts, basically driving yourself a little closer to the edge. For me, the most reliable indication is when one drink makes me feel like I've had 4. Brakes. The stuff I was sweating was really small, not to mention out of my control anyway.

Especially compared to the other stuff going on -- for instance, my dog nearly died. Short version: found a tumor, had to operate, got infected, she lost her tail (if you know her, you know how big a deal that is; it was practically part of her personality). But, thankfully, we didn't lose her altogether. She's not out of the woods yet. Send a little thought her way if you have a moment.

"Sleeping on it" puts things back in perspective. I'm not gonna let the small stuff get to me -- at least not for this week.

An "arctic blast"

2007-01-26T18:41:00.000-05:00

That's what the weather channel's been calling it. Temperatures are hitting all kinds of record lows. Right now, it's -14 degrees C (about 7 degrees F) thanks to the wind chill factor. Not pleased at all. Was all layered up today because I'd made lunch plans last week, before this "blast" was predicted. But I forgot my hat and in about 10 minutes I couldn't feel my ears. Makes you wonder about living in this part of the world.

After lunch, I went to the salon and the guy at the front desk asked me where I'd live if I had 10 million dollars. I told him, on some island somewhere where it's always warm. How about family and friends, he asked. Hey, I said, if I had 10 million dollars, I could fly them all out just on the interest.

Though, when I think about it more, with that kind of money, it doesn't really matter where you live because you can buy comfort and luxury 24/7 anywhere (almost).

Then again, a whole lot less than that keeps you pretty warm in your little apartment, as I am now. Which always makes me think about the homeless. I can't imagine it's a great situation at any point, but it's criminal in the winter. And I know just saying it seems futile, but it's a necessary thing to acknowledge. Because often we forget that, though million-less, we're still incredibly fortunate.

It's a good thing I'm an optimist

2007-01-18T20:17:00.000-05:00

From Reuters, today (my emphasis):

NEW YORK, Jan 18 (Reuters) - Time Warner Inc.'s Time Inc. publishing division said on Thursday it will cut 289 jobs as part of realignment of its business to invest more heavily in the Internet.

The owner of Time and People magazine will cut 117 jobs from its business divisions and 172 jobs from editorial.

Eighty-six editorial employees agreed to buyouts and 86 editorial employees were laid off, a Time Inc. sopkeswoman said.

Where did the week go?

2007-01-16T22:56:00.000-05:00

I'm in list-making mode -- not because that's what I'm like, but because it seems like the only way to catch up. For a writer, I've been most unwriterly. And this is my penance. To write in bullets rather than prose.

Things that annoyed me this week:
- The Indian Consulate in New York (How are we one of the fastest developing countries when the overseas "gateways to India" are so shabby?)
- Them (Yes, she's beautiful but please.)

Things that pleased me this week:
- A fashion exhibit at the Met (Sigh, sigh... to own so much couture! If only. Oh and I'm a Valentino girl.)
- My ubersuccessful spiced beef cornbread cobbler (Am going to become domestic goddess as promised in my New Year's resolutions!)
- Mellow wine bars (Prosecco -- yummy!) with adorable mascots (Yes you, Buckwheat!)

Randomness this week:
- Realizing what a small world it is on opening night of "Guru" (it was.. okay. I just love AB2; not so much his taste.)
- Realizing, again (and again and again...) that Bangalore is a small, small pond.

Belated new year reflections

2007-01-09T23:28:00.000-05:00

First post of 2007 -- and it's nearly 10 days into the new year. I think it's just taken this long to sink in that another year has already passed. And although I'm not one for resolutions, the end of a year -- and especially one as eventful as this last one -- warrants some reflecting. So, here it is.

3 Things I Achieved in 2006:
- Completed a Masters degree
- Began healing an important relationship
- Got published a handful of times and my name on mastheads of 2 different publications

4 Things I Learned in 2006:
- That networking is an essential life skill
- That it's better to ask rather than assume
- That things do happen when you don't expect them to
- That chasing dreams is worth it

5 Things I Want in 2007:
- My dream job
- More opportunities for travel
- To be known as an awesome cook! :)
- More shoes
- More love

On a more serious note, 2006 was one of the most difficult years I've had in my not-so-long life. And perhaps I'm stronger for it. So, I guess the 6th thing I want for 2007 is that the people I love stay in good health. So... you know, stop smoking, people.

And a resolution I'd like to make and stick by (fingers crossed): stay in better touch with my friends and family. I've had a lot of distractions and a lot of good excuses for letting it slide. But hey, we're none of us that overwhelmed by life, are we? So, I guess I also want better time management skills for 2007.

Ok. So. Happy New Year.

Holiday, Celebrate!

2006-12-29T17:06:00.000-05:00

Just back from a whirlwind holiday that involved traveling 24 hours each way. But the aforementioned pampering was had, so it was totally worth it. In a week's time, I managed to:

-get three massages
-take the Mas out for 4 long spins on which her power could be experienced (a little)
-have a 3 hour hair appointment
-double the number of shoes I took with me
-eat 2 Christmas dinners
-drink about 6 bottles of champagne
-and sleep more than i have in the last few weeks.

Not bad for seven days.

And really, Christmas isn't Christmas without family. So I'm glad I flew for hours and hours. And all the presents didn't hurt either!

Revealer, Take 3

2006-12-17T01:06:00.000-05:00

The Revealer published another piece I wrote -- yay! This time I took on Nicholas Kristof! But he really needed to be chastened.

And at least my busy-ness is resulting in tangible rewards!

Frenzied

2006-12-13T23:16:00.000-05:00

The only way to describe my life at the moment. 24 hours are simply not enough. I've hardly had a moment to breathe deeply, forget being able to blog. Even this is merely a fleeting moment of semi-calm (I am, in fact, multi-tasking as I type).

Between chasing down landlords who cut off the heat when temperatures drop below freezing, attending evangelical church services for academic purposes, trying not to grossly neglect my little apartment while keeping up with social obligations, and working hard to impress at work while trying to line up even more work, I haven't had two minutes to myself where I wasn't thinking, "What do I have to do next?"

So, am really looking forward to Christmas. It's my favorite time of year -- it reminds me of home and being a little girl and all kinds of other warm fuzzy thoughts. I finally went past Rockefeller Center today (yes, I braved the thronging tourists) to peek at the tree and it's so big and breathtaking and got me even more into the spirit, corny as that sounds. But perhaps I'm most happy that I will actually be on a plane soon and with part of my family for the holidays. This poor little New York girl needs some old-fashioned pampering. And so does her blog, if it has any hope of survival.

Thanksgiving

2006-11-26T19:12:00.000-05:00

The day didn't start that brilliantly -- I woke up at 5:45 AM (and I am not a morning person), it was pouring rain, rode around in a shuttle for an hour before getting dropped off at the airport, waited for an inevitably delayed flight, finally boarded only to find someone already in my seat..

That's when my day took a turn for the better. The lady in my seat wanted me to change seats with her so she could sit with her little girl. Naturally, I said yes. There was just one little hiccup -- her seat wasn't an aisle and I'm claustraphobic. The flight attendant offered to find me an aisle -- only, the cabin was totally full. But, wait a minute -- first class wasn't!

Yup, day definitely improved. Landed in Chicago to find the weather beautiful (despite everyone's dire predictions), my favorite favorite cousin waiting, long drives with lots to talk about, gorgeous niece and nephew*, guilt-free french fries and ice cream cake, long afternoons with nothing to do but "be"...

I love Thanksgiving.

*(While my niece and nephew are gorgeous and adorable and cuddly, they did introduce me to the ultimate nightmare toy -- click on "demo" and you'll see what I mean. It's still playing in my head...)

007

2006-11-18T02:48:00.000-05:00

I think I might actually be in love with Daniel Craig. I find myself lying here thinking, Sean Connery or Daniel Craig? Sean or Daniel? Not sure I'm ready to take my Best James Bond award away from Sean Connery as yet. He was, after all, the original. But Daniel Craig has come closest to knocking him off that pedestal -- in my book at least.

Finally, James Bond as he should be, again. No more chocolate-box-pretty-boy-ubergentleman. There's such a thing as being too suave. I mean, I love Pierce Brosnan, I do (he was brilliant back in the day as Remington Steele -- and hello, the Thomas Crown Affair??). But he was too... nice.

Daniel Craig's yummy bad-boy ruggedness is so much more attractive. And so much more "Bond".

He's not afraid to get down and dirty. And you gotta love his crooked smile.. sigh...

This kind of thinking, when not applied to a figment of Ian Fleming's imagination but rather to real life, explains a lot about the choices I make.

Last night...

2006-11-12T23:32:00.000-05:00

...I realized what a difference friendliness makes. I would trek back to Brooklyn on the unreliable R train just because everybody smiled. From the maitre d' to the bartender to the waiter to the busboy. It was like being "where everybody knows your name."

...I realized (again) that I find concrete strangely beautiful. Well, not all concrete -- but the Manhattan skyline. There's something eerily lovely about it.

...I realized that knee-high boots, while making me about 3 inches taller and doing whatever it is that boots do, still don't make me feel as good as spindly-heeled sandals that show off a pedicure do. (I really need to live somewhere warm).

Expanding horizons...

2006-11-10T00:19:00.000-05:00

I met an awesome group of people tonight. They're some of the most aware, intelligent, warm, real people I've met in a long time. They are Iraq veterans.

It's always so interesting to step into a world so different from my own. And to then discover that the differences don't matter when it comes to relating to people. Of course I could never imagine the life experiences they've had -- but that doesn't mean we can't hang out, eat some dinner, talk some politics, and then just have a good time.

Did I mention they were crazy fun?

Revealer Part 2

2006-11-07T00:22:00.000-05:00

So, another one of my commentaries passed muster and was published by the Revealer. Read it here.

An introspective interlude:
I didn't quite realize before how much I like writing with a definite "voice." The whole "objective journalism" thing isn't at all what I'm interested in. I mean, I can do it. But it isn't what gets me going. Criticism/editorials/opinion pieces have really grown on me. I used to be hesitant about making my view known in my writing. But I quite enjoy it now. (Maybe a little too much -- a friend of mine says, quite rightly, that I have a very snarky side that is most evident in my writing. Especially when I allow my views to seep in. As she says, my alterego emerges. Because, in real life, I'm just a big sweetheart! Really.)

Jesus Camp

2006-11-01T20:31:00.000-05:00

It's a really well-made, provocative, sensitive, scary, totally watch-worthy documentary about Evangelical Christians in America. And I think what makes it particularly edgy is that the focus is on children. I watched Jesus Camp a couple days ago -- and I strongly recommend it.

Especially to anyone who thinks that religion today has turned a strange shade of bizarre. This particular film focuses on Christian Evangelicals, but the fact is, fundamentalists of any religion are this...mindblowing.

The film follows three born-again Christian kids to a camp in North Dakota where they're trained to be part of "God's army," an army that's fighting to bring Americans back to Christ (or to their interpretation of Him anyway). Just the idea of children as religious soldiers sends chills coursing through me. There were many moments that made me want to gag -- like when a camp leader was lecturing the kids on abortion, while handing out little plastic fetuses and red "life" strips that they taped across their mouths. Or when the leaders whipped the kids into such a frenzy by making them feel like sinners, that they began to shake and cry.

Still, the film also had many, many humorous moments -- given children's innate naïveté, that's inevitable. One of my favorite moments was when this little 9-year-old walks up to a platinum blond 20-something with large breasts under a tight shirt and hands her a religious book, saying that she felt the woman needed to "be saved." It was just so funny because I had a feeling even before she went over that the blond's big breasts would evoke the devil in this little girl's mind!

The laughter wasn't all comfortable, though. Some of the time, it was derisive(consider that this film about Evangelical kids being essentially indoctrinated was being watched by an NYU-heavy, New York liberal audience). And sometimes the bursts of laughter seemed to come at the most uncomfortable moments.

Anyway, I guess my reaction was colored by the fact that I fit the above mentioned demographic. Most extreme forms of religion scare me. And yet, I didn't entirely dislike the characters. The film has a definite political bent, but at the same time, I think there was a certain fairness of portrayal. Which means the directors did something right.

Of paper walls and second bathrooms

2006-10-29T22:42:00.000-05:00

There are two things about the way people live here in America that I have never understood. a) having only one bathroom per home and b) having paper thin walls between apartments. It shows a complete disregard for privacy -- which is odd, given that this is a privacy-obsessed country.

Right now, the thin walls are pissing me off. My neighbors, a pair of high-pitched, nasal, barely post-collegiate chiquitas (how they afford what they refer to as "the penthouse" -- told ya I can hear everything -- is beyond me. Not that it is a penthouse in actuality -- it's just an apartment on the top floor. It's not a penthouse unless there's a private elevator, in my opinion!) are having a cheesy and loud gathering. Cheesy because they're playing a lot of (now defunct) boy bands and Madonna, and singing -- badly -- along. And I can hear it all clearly. It's nothing short of an aural assault. No wonder their dog is a little neurotic.

Now am debating at what point I can go over and tell them to shut the f...ummm, you know, turn it down a notch. I really don't want to be that neighbor. But it's like being in a dorm again, an experience I have no desire whatsoever to relive. Yes, it was fun when I was 18. But I'm over it now and quite enjoy living like a (somewhat) civilized adult.

If only they had remotely acceptable taste in music -- or could actually carry a tune -- I might be able to stand it. Or join in. But they don't and they can't. And the party sounds lame.

Damn these paper walls! Sigh, at least I have that second bathroom (the small comforts of adulthood scare me sometimes!)

Buffers

2006-10-26T20:03:00.000-04:00

I am comfortably numb.

Soon, it will wear off. By then I will have figured out how to feel. But for now...

The Revealer

2006-10-18T17:40:00.000-04:00

I'm taking a class in which we keep tabs on coverage of religion in the media, so that we can do critiques. I recently wrote a piece and it was just published online: the piece.

It's exciting and scary. Exciting because editors clearly thought it was insightful enough to warrant publishing. And scary because I usually shy away from religion and politics in my writing. Still, it was an interesting, if challenging, assignment.

Almost as effective as chocolate...

2006-10-17T00:28:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I had made myself a promise that I wouldn't indulge (too much) in the know-yourself quizzes anymore. And I certainly made a conscious decision not to share the results with the world -- because, honestly, who cares what kind of animal I am??

But..umm.. this one was too much of an ego massage to keep to myself, so I shall allow myself a brief indulgence (I've been kinda low, I needed a pick up and, well, this was certainly a good one). The question was: which Victoria's Secret Angel Are You? And the answer:

You Are Most Like Gisele Bundchen

Slightly exotic and perfectly gorgeous

I swear, I'm not vain.

Ok, maybe a little bit.

India on my mind -- and everyone else's

2006-10-10T21:35:00.000-04:00

So I was watching Gilmore Girls this evening (while avoiding the reading I have to do) and it was going along predictably for the first few minutes when, all of a sudden, Rory says, "Well, I could talk about Bangalore!"

Huh??

I start paying closer attention and there's this 30 second riff on Bangalore and outsourcing -- how when you call customer service, chances are you're talking to "some nice person who speaks English in India." And just when I thought that was it, about 10 minutes later, she interrupts a (predictable) fight between her mom and grandparents by yelling, "Bangalore!" and stunning everybody into silence.

I guess that's one of many indications that India -- and Bangalore -- has really seeped into popular culture here in America. Sure, Americans have liked Indian food for a long time, and have been aware that their corner store guy and the cabbie are both South Asian. But we didn't figure in their collective popular consciousness quite like we do now:

Bangalore getting more than a mention in Gilmore Girls. A classmate knowing who Suketu Mehta is (and she'd read Maximum City, too). The words "contemporary Indian art" flowing off unlikely tongues.

And the fact that stories about India have been on the front page (or close by) of the New York Times several times in the last month. This last example, however, has annoyed me greatly. Not one of these apparently globally relevant stories has been positive. Not one. Here's a sampling of headlines:

Modern Ways Open India's Doors to Diabetes

In Teeming India, Water Crisis Means Dry Pipes and Foul Sludge

On India's Despairing Farms, a Plague of Suicides

And then there are the images, of course, and some very inventive captions, like: India Combats a Deadly Dengue Fever Outbreak.

Now, I'm not saying that any of these stories are untrue. Of course it's all happening and it's terrible and must be brought to national attention. The relevance on the front page of the Times, however, escapes me. It seems to do nothing but reinforce negative stereotypes.

I respect Somini Sengupta, the Times correspondent in India, a great deal. She does some extremely honest and necessary reporting and avoids falling into the "India Shining" trap. But while it's important to maintain a realistic perspective, there's also such a thing as overkill. And, I'm afraid, that's what's happened with the stories on India in the last month.

I expect more from the New York Times.

On travel writing...

2006-10-06T16:26:00.000-04:00

I was having a conversation about a week ago with someone who told me he thinks travel writing is incredibly boring. Not that he does any -- he finds the reading of it boring. "You know," he said, "it's just 'where to eat,' 'where to stay,' 'where to party.' I mean, anyone can do that."

Ummm... ye-ah, sure.

Being someone who dreams of travel writing -- and who has done some herself -- I was offended. Initially. And then I decided I didn't need to have anything to do with someone so... stupid. (Yes, I am judgemental about people's literary worldview.)

But perhaps I'm being unfair. After all, maybe not everyone can tell the difference between the genre that guide books fall into and that of actual travel writing. On the other hand, maybe he was just not so richly endowed with the discernment gene.

The truth is, there's serious art in travel writing. Consider this: there is a finite number of countries in the world. And yet, people write about them all the time (witness the number of monthly magazines devoted to travel), which means coming up with a new take each time. Which, believe me, is not easy. And yet, the great travel writers manage to do just that.

I was reading October's Conde Nast Traveler and ran smack into a piece by Pico Iyer (I genuflect before his talent) about Singapore -- a city written about so extensively, I'm surprised anyone has anything left to say. And yet, his article was remarkably fresh. Which is what Pico Iyer consistently manages to do.

The trick is to be part nomad, part writer and part cultural anthropologist. Then, any place becomes more than just the sum of its hotels, restaurants and clubs.

Now that's travel writing.

Baby Katie

2006-10-03T20:11:00.000-04:00

My beautiful new niece, 11 days old:

Swoon

2006-09-16T14:55:00.000-04:00

I saw Usher last night. Sigh. Two hours of Usher indoors and 30 minutes of waiting in the cold and drizzle to behave like a groupie. Wish I'd had a real camera with me, but had to make do with a camera phone and being several feet away -- with the result that you can't really tell it's him. Still, it was... sigh...

I've seen Chicago on Broadway before, but he added a whole new dimension to this experience. I couldn't stop smiling. Especially when he threw his little Usher riffs into the songs or busted out an Usher move while dancing. Totally adorable. I thought he played the part quite well -- eventhough it was hard to forget it was Usher down there and not Billy Flynn. Still, that's really my fault, not his.

Catching up

2006-09-09T22:33:00.000-04:00

I was told -- more than once -- in the last month or so that it seems like I've been in another world. The truth is, it feels like that to me, too. Without delving too much into detail, it's been a whirlwind couple months with a lot going on, not all of it good. So, yes, I think I did check out of this world and disappear into myself. That happens. So for those who thought I wasn't quite there, I wasn't. But I'm back.

Details I can share:
I was home for a blissful yet short visit.
I spent a couple days tanning here (it's an old picture; there should be pool chairs and the palm trees are bigger):

And I drove one of these:

Basically, it was a much needed hiatus from my world. I'm saner for it.

Irony

2006-09-04T22:02:00.000-04:00

There are certain events in life that truly define 'irony.' This is one of them.

For someone who made a career out of chasing danger -- and often staring it in its (large toothy) mouth -- there's no word but ironic to describe Steve Irwin's premature death. I nearly fell off the treadmill when I tuned into CNN and saw the breaking news. The experts have been all over the news talking about how stingray attacks are rarely fatal. What were the chances? And at a time when he was working on a not-so-dangerous project. It's ironic and it's sad.

I always thought he was completely out of his mind, but I found his personality and his shows incredibly addictive. And I have a phobia of reptiles. So that's something. I guess, crazy or not, he did a fair amount to educate people about creatures nobody particularly cares for. And whatever anybody thought of him, 44 is too young...

Tagged

2006-08-28T15:15:00.000-04:00

by K.

I am thinking about...
the next step..

I said...
"hi" and then i smiled.

I want to...
do more than i could in 3 lifetimes.

I wish...
i could be in two places at the same time.

I miss...
my dog when i'm away.

I hear...
night sounds.

I wonder...
if things will ever work out just as i want them to.

I regret...
very very few things.

I am...
not usually predictable..even when you know me.

I sing...
'on air' or in karaoke bars.

I cry...
easily.

I am not always...
in as much control as i might seem to be.

I write...
for a living! and also because i must.

I need...
to master time management.

I should try...
things that scare me.

I finish...
first! ok, well, not really, but i couldn't think of anything else.

no onward tags!! i find all this terribly addictive -- like the quizzes -- and i won't contribute to its spread!

For the record...

2006-08-22T06:38:00.000-04:00

...I am aware that Preity Zinta's character in Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna has my name -- exactly as I spell it, too. At least 50 people have either emailed me or begun a conversation with "Hey, do you know that in KANK.." Yes, I do know!

The bottom line is that KJo stole my identity for his movie. Not only does Preity have my name, she's in the magazine/fashion world AND lives in New York.

Honestly, I think the least he could've done was offer me the part to play myself (well, myself + future husband and child). I just hope I have better taste in husbands when the time comes.

Que sera sera

2006-08-02T23:16:00.000-04:00

What does it do to a person to be rendered completely helpless? And what if that person has always been a control freak, someone who needed to be running the show (and, often, running everyone else's lives as well)?

I think it can go two ways... the person could sigh, realize not everything in life is within our control and relinquish themselves to "que sera sera." Somehow I think that's the better way to handle a loss of control over life. Then there's the other reaction. The denial, the anger at the world at large, the refusal to change with circumstances. It's incredibly destructive -- for everyone.

It can't be easy to be relatively young (as in, not a grandparent as yet) and unable to function normally. But you've got to wonder at the purpose being served by pushing people away at a time like this. Sometimes I think age has nothing to do with wisdom.

Reading minds...

2006-07-24T20:00:00.000-04:00

Don't you sometimes wish that people could read your mind? That you didn't have to say, they just knew? I've been feeling like that for the last few days...hoping someone would notice that I needed to be asked. And then I realized how futile it is, especially across states or oceans or even vast tracts of Manhattan. But you know how you get caught up in being happy and not really acknowledging how you might feel? It's hard to snap out of it and ask for a hug.

Question: how long is 16 days? Too long? Or so short, it'll fly by? I'm hoping for the second. You don't need to know what I'm going on about -- just tell me it'll fly by. And my smile will reach my eyes again.

Prada and Gucci and Choos....oh my!

2006-07-21T10:27:00.000-04:00

You know that thing people often say about the business world -- that everyone notices shoes and bags? I used to think it was a bunch of superficial crock and that while there would always be the brand-conscious who raise their eyebrows at anything less than Manolos (Devil Wears Prada, anyone?), most people didn't focus on your ability to accessorize. Well, I think I overestimated there. Because...ummm... it turns out, that's the first thing even I notice.

I was at a conference this week of minority women who hold senior positions in Corporate America. Walking around the reception area, I could hardly get my eyes to move beyond their feet and hands -- Vuitton, Chanel, Fendi, D&G, Prada, Gucci, Armani, Hermes... name a designer and he/she was represented in full force. Bags and shoes. I didn't even notice the suits.

That's not to say everyone always judges you on brand. I'd assume that most employers would know that a young 20-something just beginning a career couldn't afford to arrive at an interview with an Hermes bag (that takes 6 months to get) hanging off her arm. It's just about presentation -- nice shoes and a nice bag, label or not -- just no scuffs.

I'm glad I'm not the sort of person who needs $700 shoes. But, man, is it fun to watch them walking around!

My Walter Cronkite

2006-07-15T09:09:00.000-04:00

I will always remember July 14th 2006 as the day Riz Khan gave me a hug. Sigh, happiness. And I don't mean just because he looks like he does and is charming and suave and uberintelligent (though, those things don't hurt!). But because he is one of the best, most important journalists of my lifetime. He is my Walter Cronkite -- and he knows it!

Grace... and disgrace

2006-07-09T19:03:00.000-04:00

There's a lot to be said about grace in sports. I've been pretty impressed through the World Cup. While there have been several little skirmishes, nothing utterly unpleasant happened -- until today. What was Zidane thinking??

It's so unbelievably disappointing. I've never liked Les Bleus, but Zidane was different... had so much respect for him. And I can't imagine what made him end his amazing career in such a disgraceful way. Honestly, what could Materazzi have possibly said that warranted that viscious headbutt? And no matter what he said, Zidane should know better than to lose his cool like that.

He showed grace in so many other situations this World Cup -- especially with Figo during the Portugal match (I was so disappointed they lost, but couldn't hate Zidane because I thought he was incredibly sportsman-like). So I don't get it. What happened to the grace?

After all, it is just a game. An amazing, passionate, all-consuming game. But still, just a game.

And then there was light...

2006-07-04T23:57:00.000-04:00

I've finally discovered the thing that brings people together -- people of all ages, races, personalities, cliques, sexual orientation, gender... fireworks. Seriously. The display over the East River tonight was just spectacular. We all stood, mouths open wide, applauding, oohing and aahing (if I hadn't been so distracted by the pretty lights, I would have laughed at the heavily tattooed, muscle man who oohed right alongside the little girl in a stroller)... who would have thought a bunch of pretty multi-colored lights could keep your attention for a whole 1/2 hour. I felt like a little girl again. But, I think, no matter how old I am fireworks will always be just... mesmerizing.

Happy 4th of July. It's been quite a day.

One of those days...

2006-06-30T23:44:00.000-04:00

Ever have those days when everything seems to be good and going right? Today was one of those days -- much needed, seeing as I've been in a bit of a rut lately. And it made me wonder how much of our days are influenced by our own outlook. When you're in a top-of-the-world mood, do people sense that and react in a particularly positive way?

It all began with the conversation I had with one of my oldest and closest friends earlier today. She took the crappy stuff, knew what to say, and then got me excited about the parts of my life that are going great. Perspective is such a wonderful thing -- and you usually get it from the people who know you best. After that, I was in this happy, floaty place -- and people, random strangers, seemed to be playing off it.

For instance, there was the guy at the store (I won't say where so as not to get him in trouble) who decided that a student shouldn't have to pay so much for stuff that is education-related and so he's knocking off nearly $200 by using his discount. For no reason except that he felt bad charging me so much. I didn't know that this kind of thing ever happened in New York. It means I'll have to wait on my merchandise for a couple extra days, but hey, altruism can't be entirely perfect!

And the rest of the day... I can't quite put it in concrete terms, but there was an extra-friendliness to all my interactions today. A lot of smiles and jokes and politeness. And there was the Italian maitre d' who kept trying to get me to go into his restaurant (apparently I was wearing Italy's colors -- and they just steam-rolled the Ukraine). And there were phone calls.

Whatever it was, it was nice. Days like this don't come around often -- and perhaps they wouldn't be appreciated if they did -- so I'm just high on the fact that it was "one of those days."

Quizzical

2006-06-29T23:50:00.000-04:00

For someone who requires that her job vary from day to day, it's totally contrary that I can imagine being happy filling forms, answering questions all day. Seriously. I think that's why I'm easily addicted to multiple choice "tests" -- not the ones you have to study for, but the ones that allegedly tell you something about yourself (that, presumably, you didn't know before, but I wasn't exactly surprised when a test told me I am most like Rachel from Friends or Jackie from That 70s Show -- I mean, hello? Who else would I be from those shows?!).

Today, ended up doing a couple more quizzes because I stumbled across them in the process of blog-reading. Then, out of curiosity, went to the Tickle (used to be Emode?) site and found that I've done like 70+ tests. And these are just the ones that have been saved on one site. So, I know all manner of things about me now -- for instance, apparently my body double is JLo (hah, I wish!) and I'm a Passionate Kisser. My Inner Goddess is an Angel (!) and my best quality is Independence. Hmmm... how much do we subconsciously (or consciously) manipulate these results?

So anyway, is interesting that one of today's tests told me that I'm always looking for something new, for every day to be different -- which is true. Hence the need for creativity in my work. But still, I maintain that I could fill forms all day. Maybe that's a business idea? Huh.

June 30th: Thanks, Sim, for fueling my addiction! Here are the results of that test:

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are a wanderer. You constantly long for a new adventure, challenge, or even a completely different life.
You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds.
You believe that people see you as larger than life and important. While this is true, they also think you're a bit full of yourself.
Your near future is likely to be filled with great successes and accomplishments. You just need to figure out how to get there.
For you, love is all about caring and comfort. You couldn't fall in love with someone you didn't trust.

Inside the Room of Your Soul

Emotional drainage

2006-06-26T22:48:00.000-04:00

Can you love and hate someone at the same time? Can black-and-white people ever get along with those who see life in shades of grey? Can you wish someone out of your life, while knowing you'd miss them if they were gone?

It's not supposed to be this hard. And yet, it's been 25 years and never particularly easy. So why would it start being now?

The thing is, life's pretty good most of the time. It's just these little big things. But hey, I'm stronger than that.

Running to stand still

2006-06-23T10:57:00.000-04:00

Every time I've thought about updating my blog in the last two weeks, it just seems overwhelming and so I go do something else instead. I don't know if it's the onset of mild ADD thanks to the sticky hot New York days or just that so much is going on, I can't get my head around it. I feel like time is flying by and I'm constantly going... family stuff, things ending, things beginning, work, classes, people in town, people out of town.. sometimes, I want to push pause, take a breath and stop my head from swimming. But running full tilt keeps my mind off things.

Fourth of July in a week and a half and still no solid plans.

I want to lie back today and read a book. I think I might just do that.

Normal is boring?

2006-06-10T19:49:00.000-04:00

I often tell my friend, Mush, that life is never boring when he's around. Somehow his presence results in at least a couple interesting or out of the ordinary happenings. He was here for all of 24 hours -- and now I'm in recovery mode.

We started out chill -- old friends catching up after what feels like a long time -- and we ended chill -- watching the Argentina-Ivory Coast match (woohoo, World Cup! Had to be said!). But there was the period in between...

After barhopping in the Meatpacking District for a few hours, we ended up in Chelsea at possibly the strangest party I have ever been to. The scene...I imagine that's what being on something chemical and illegal is like. Or I imagine it's what the inside of Dali's head looked like. Very very surreal. People dressed as neon angels...a fishnet body-suited mermaid...and everything in between. My eyes were heavy with fatigue but it was like walking into another world and not being able to tear your eyes off people. It wasn't M's idea, but I sure as hell haven't been anywhere like that until he shows up in town.

Then there was the scary incident, which is the first (and I hope the last) really unnerving one I've had in the City. It was almost 6am, the sun had risen, and we were walking down my block, almost home, when we hear people shouting and a guy and two girls come tearing around the corner toward us. At first we think it's just obnoxious loud drunk people, but something wasn't quite right and so in a split second, M sticks his foot out and trips the guy. He falls but gets up immediately and keeps running. By now we have an inkling that the girls are in pursuit of this guy, they're screaming "No!" But a few seconds lapse before one of them tells us that the guy has just snatched one of the girls' handbag. M takes off down the street after him, but the thief had a big headstart already. I'm torn between worrying that M will get shot or something (this is New York) and trying to get the handbag girl to stop crying and making sure her friend has called 911. To cut to the chase... cops came, M and another guy who joined in didn't manage to find the thief but they returned safe, and we finally got home. But it shook me up. I don't always think twice about walking half a block late at night in what feels like a safe neighborhood. It just shows, you never know. I'm never again going to do that. From now on, I'll get dropped off at my doorstep.

Like I said, never boring...

Happy Birthday, Baby!

2006-06-04T22:37:00.000-04:00

It's my baby's birthday today... 9 years old, she's not so baby anymore.

Hung over

2006-06-04T22:18:00.000-04:00

Mixing drinks is so bad. I know that's Drinking 101 and yet, so many years later, I'll still do it occassionally. I'm only ever hung over when I've switched around between kinds of alcohol. Sometimes you're trying to numb thoughts as quickly as possible, tho, and you do it even when you know you'll regret it the next day.

Anyway.. it was fun last night. We went to the East Side Company Bar. Hidden between shuttered pizza parlors and stores. No name on the door. We almost walked right past but then found it. Gotta love going to places that are word of mouth rather than advertised. Interesting interior design -- it looked like a bunker. I mean, I'd hunker down there if there was a threat to New York. Of course, if you threw in the bartenders and the yummy drinks, who wouldn't want to be stranded there?

Wished I could just stay in and nurse my aching head today, but it was not to be. Had to go befriend the pedicab guys on Broadway. I think they're amused by me. Fingers crossed it stays dry the next few days so I can continue to hang with them.

Money...

2006-06-01T00:08:00.000-04:00

...can be a really good thing and a really really bad thing. Depending on who's holding control of it. Sometimes people work almost like banks. Almost worse, though, because with banks it's black and white.. with people, there's always that grey area.

Has been a fairly uninspiring week. Haven't felt like I had anything particular to say. Or at least, not anything I can say to the world at large.

Bad. Because it defeats my belief in living with intention, like every day counts. Sometimes you have a string of not-so-great days, though. And the inspiration is hard to find. Let's hope the phase is passing..

Perks

2006-05-22T20:41:00.000-04:00

Speaking of star-struck, did I mention that I had breakfast with Susan Sarandon last week?

When I feel like I haven't slept enough and joining the morning rush on the subway seems uninviting, I think about the perks of the job. Like that breakfast. And the fact that part of an assignment I was on today involved getting a massage. Suddenly, waking up early doesn't seem so bad.

Cosmo Pseudo Feminists

2006-05-19T23:34:00.000-04:00

Amitav Ghosh is just brilliant. I don't know what else to say, really. Went to a reading-discussion thing on the Upper Eastside tonight, primarily because he was going to be reading from his new book, Incendiary Circumstances, along with another writer. I am always star-struck around Amitav Ghosh (in Bangalore once, I chatted with him a little at some event about how I went to Brown and his son wanted to go there -- and couldn't stop thinking about that for a while!), so of course I thought it was all really interesting. Until the Q & A time.

I really think that if people don't have anything particularly intelligent to ask/say, they should just desist from talking. The first girl who asked a question had clearly never been to India (though she was of Indian origin) and her question was about whether the situation of women in India is better now than before. Which would have been an okay if unanswerable question (how do you lump all the women in India in one category??) on its own. But then she goes on to make a really ignorant comment. She says, "Oh, all urban women in India now are watching soap operas on Sony TV and reading Cosmopolitan magazine with the result that they've turned into 'Cosmo Pseudo Feminists'."

Ummm... excuse me? I was sitting with a couple of people I had just met, one of whom was a woman who lives in the Bay Area but is from India. She and I just looked at each other and she whispers to me.. "Wow, didn't know we were Cosmo pseudo feminists, did you?" I could swear Amitav Ghosh raised an eyebrow, though he and the other panelists tried to be polite.

Anyway, apart from that, the event was pretty good. Amitav Ghosh (yes, I do have to keep writing his full name. I can't do "Dr. Ghosh" and definitely not just "Ghosh") was so refreshingly honest and funny. He talked about how India is much better off in certain ways than post- 9/11 America, in terms of freedom of speech, etc these days. He told a facinating story about how he wrote a piece prior to the Iraq war about empires and why they ultimately fail. And the editor of the New Yorker -- you know who he is -- wanted to add a paragraph in the beginning with a disclaimer saying that America is not like the colonial empires of yore because it doesn't do things for its own self-interest. Yeah. I nearly fell off my chair, too. This from the New Yorker, a publication I hold in great esteem, it's so excrutiatingly disappointing.

He said a whole lot of other interesting things. Wish I had had a tape recorder or something. It is good to know that he hasn't lost his deep attachment to India, despite living over here for 13 years. I guess that is reflective in the fact that his writing is set primarily in and around India. He did also say "being in America is like being in an empty room" -- what he means is that America doesn't interest him as a subject, so he uses it as neutral ground from which to write about the places and people that do interest him. Quite fascinating.

Anyway, amazing what you can learn in one evening on the Upper Eastside. Most un-Cosmo pseudo feminist of me to be engaging in intellectual exchange on a Friday night. I should have been, mai tai in hand, practising the "10 Ways to a Fulfilling One-Night Stand."

Water

2006-05-15T19:37:00.000-04:00

I am recommending Deepa Mehta's film, Water, wholesale. Went to see it this weekend and, although I wasn't sure at the time if I was going to enjoy anything so intense, I am really glad I saw it. Yes, it's intense. Yes, it's hauntingly sad. There's an undercurrent of despair running through the whole film. But it's so eminently watchable.

The reviews way over in this part of the world have been overwhelmingly positive. I was somewhat skeptical before I went to see it, in part because I find that the media here is impressed by displays of "third world intolerance." So, just the fact that Water stirred up so much trouble (with the sets being set on fire by religious fundamentalists, etc) and the fact that Mehta had to move the production to another country and the whole process took 4 years, is enough for many newspapers/magazines here to kowtow before her courage in pursuing the project. Also, let's face it, have never expected a whole lot from either Lisa Ray or John Abraham, acting-wise.

But, it turns out, my doubts were unneccessary. The reviews were spot on. The art direction is beautiful. The whole film is done in wonderful hues with carefully crafted scenes. That much I expected and was not disappointed. I also trusted Mehta to avoid sensationalism (because I thought she did a fairly delicate job with Fire) and she managed that pretty well, too -- while still getting across an important message.

And the characters. They really were the best part. The little girl (Sarala) who played Chuyia, an 8-year-old widow, was just so charming and endearing. And she had never acted before; she's from a little village in Sri Lanka. Lisa Ray, who played Kalyani, the beautiful widow (of course!), was surprisingly good in her part. And, drum roll, so was John! I had a really hard time taking him totally seriously for the first 1/3 of the film. Because, well, he's John Abraham. And he still looks like John Abraham, even with the Gandhian glasses and with his sculpted body hidden under loose clothes. But for the rest of the film, when his character (Narayan) came to the forefront more, he did the part justice. It's definitely the best thing he's done so far. But by far, the best actor in the film was Seema Biswas. Her character, Shakuntala, was also the most fully and intricately developed one (apart from Chuyia) and her performance was just powerful.

The movie seemed occassionally didactic, but we have to remember it's exploring a topic that most viewers -- in India and abroad -- are not particularly familiar with. I mean, I grew up in India and, while I was aware that widows had it bad in parts of the north especially, I never fully realized what that meant. And although she is trying to create awareness of a social issue, I think Mehta allowed the story -- and the message -- to evolve out of the relationships between the widows, which is a really good way to do it. Because the strength of the film lies in the individual personalities of those women and how they interact -- either fluidly or explosively -- with each other in the situation that society had put them in.

It's very bittersweet. But, if you've seen Fire, you'd already know that. The despair never quite goes away, but I suppose... that's reality.

Musings

2006-05-12T19:28:00.000-04:00

The sky is turning a dark threatening grey. It's supposed to rain most of this next week. I've never been a rain-loving kinda gal. Which is interesting given that Bombay is in my blood.

But it was sunny and warm during the day, so I walked around a bit, very much in my head most of the time. Random things kept occuring to me.

For instance, I was going to be a total girl and go shoe shopping. Was meandering through Union Square considering heading toward Nine West. Then I saw Sephora and thought, why not get perfume and cement the girle girl feeling. But I got sidetracked by Barnes and Noble en route. Spent much time wandering through aisles and aisles of books, totally lost in that world. Emerged armed with some purchases -- I can't go into a bookstore without getting something -- and realized I'm happier having bought books than I would have been with shoes. Who'd have thunk it?

Passed an old man handing out flyers for a beauty salon and almost walked by without even looking at him and then felt a little bad. What a job for someone that age. It doesn't bother me to brush past young people standing in the street doing this all day. But somehow, with elderly people.. I feel obligated to take the ad because it makes me sad that they're spending these years of their lives doing something so... anonymous. People walking by all day, not even noticing they exist. Ugh.

Also feeling a bit antagonistic toward dairy products today. I know, it's really random -- and it's partly my own fault. I went to the grocery store twice yesterday and forgot, both times, to buy more milk. So, this morning, I discovered that the little bit of milk in the carton in my fridge had gone lumpy (so gross!). The sell-by date was May 11. Today is the 12th. Seriously, dairy products are so fragile. You have to be so vigilant or else they go lumpy, grow fungus or undergo some other equally distasteful transformation. Had to have black coffee instead of masala chai.

Went to the grocery store twice yesterday to buy ingredients for dinner because my brother and I were entertaining at my place. Turns out my baby bro is even more accomplished than previously thought -- the boy can cook now, too. If you looked up "all-rounder" in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of him. Pre-med, manages a bartending agency, can fly planes, plays sports, can act, and is funny and smart and charming. But most importantly, he's a good kid. Down-to-earth and caring. Growing up with an example like this of what guys can be like... must be why I still believe.

Weekends..

2006-05-07T18:42:00.000-04:00

Had almost forgotten what it's like to have real weekends again. No waking up on Saturday and Sunday mornings and staring at piles of research, reading or writing. The first weekend of my four months of non-academic life (well, I am taking a class, but it's not a full course load) bodes well for the rest of summer. It's a pleasure to sit back and be part of the randomness of the City again.

Friday: Cinco de Mayo margaritas among the banker types (they're a whole breed on their own, aren't they?); the caped wonders in white tights and red masks who took pictures with us; the random tidbits of information offered by strangers; walking into ML for the first time and running into a Brown classmate I hadn't seen since graduation; a dog wearing shoes; an unexpected compliment from a married man..

Saturday: Melon martinis, foie gras, loud Southern European types, California guys with moms, blondes from Dubai, ginger margaritas, maitre d' "Miguel," Juilliard Russians who "love Raj Kapoor," learning the practical utility of the phrase "nyet, spasiba"..

Bright lights, big city..

2006-05-04T13:36:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was my first day at work. It was good. The work content has potential. And everyone I met at the office seemed professional and chill at the same time. Reminded me a bit of when I worked at Verve. Dynamic, yet not intimidating -- I mean, it'll take a little while to settle in, but once I do, I think it could be great.

But... and I'm going to be such a wide-eyed little girl here... the moment that struck me most was when a colleague and I went down to get lunch. The office is right by Grand Central and so the area is uberNewYork. Busy busy busy. People with things to do, places to be. Beautiful people in immaculate clothes and trendy shoes. The hot lattes, the constant cellphone conversations, the cigarettes smoked quickly as they charge down the avenue. Being in the midst of it, one among the swarming masses, it was exhilarating. I know, it seems so country-girl-in-the-big-city, which I'm not. But I'm not sure how else to explain it. It's like having your finger on the pulse of some large, exciting, dangerous animal.

I think it's a matter of being part of what makes the City tick. And as a student, you're still in a bit of a bubble, a little removed. Now... I actually feel like a New Yorker.

For a change...

2006-05-01T23:12:00.000-04:00

Normally, when guys catcall or make suggestive comments on the street, I keep walking and ignore them. The comments -- and the guy's attitude -- are usually either sleazy, aggressive or pathetic. But today I realized that, on some rare occassions, a random street comment can make you smile. Was on my way to the hair salon and three guys were loitering on the street. As I walked by, one of them said, "You're looking really beautiful today, Miss." There was something about his tone (polite), his manner (unaggressive) and the fact that he called me "Miss" -- I paused for half a second, looked at him and said thank you. He replied, you're welcome. And that was it. No sleaze, no moves, no nothing. Just a genuine comment of appreciation. And, for once, it made me feel good. And yes, I smiled.

(Total contrast to later on in the evening when some guys kept getting in our way and trying to get us to smile at them. Was way too intrusive and there was too much inuendo)

Anyway, was on my way to the hair salon, like I said. And today, I was interested in a change of some sort. Nothing terribly drastic like cutting it all off -- I'm just not that kind of person. But I felt like change was important. And so... baby steps... I got bangs. Not all the way across, but the kind that are on one side -- he used a picture of Charlize Theron to model my hair! I like it (of course it's left to be seen how the layers and everything work once I try and blowdry it myself). I'm sure mum's first comment would be that my hair is constantly in my eye. Which it is. But I'm kinda diggin' it so far..

A dilemma..

2006-04-28T00:03:00.000-04:00

Decisions involving people you love are always the hardest to make. I'm having trouble with such a decision myself right now.

I've written something about someone I love, something personal. Not about how I feel about this person so much, but about an illness that has changed my life, his life, our relationship, my view of the world, of life and death. I've never written anything this difficult, I broke down twice during the writing, but it was cathartic. And it was written from very deep within me.

I shared the piece with a few people, including a professor -- a professor who thinks it's publishable material. But...I haven't shared it with this person I love. And I'm not sure I want to. Not because it says anything intentionally hurtful. But because it unearths some uncomfortable truths about how this illness and its treatment has made me feel (although it does end on a positive note). And I'm...almost scared about how he'll react. And yet.. I can't even begin to think about publishing without telling him..showing him...first.

But is it worth it? Is it worth maybe upsetting him and making things between us worse? Or is it worth taking the chance to see if a view into my heart will help him understand me better? And most of all, is all of it worth it to see my work acknowledged? I know this is a piece I can be proud of... one of the few that I don't feel tentative about (all writers have self-doubt otherwise). Or is it worth keeping it private because publishing could feel like an invasion?

Sigh, I don't know yet what I'm going to do. But, a word of advice: don't ever write anything really personal if you care about people's feelings. It's a very awkward position to be in.

Published in Pakistan

2006-04-24T16:48:00.000-04:00

[This post was all screwy the last time -- let's hope the link works this time around]

Sundays are usually good days anyway. But yesterday was particularly good because I got published in Pakistan for the first time! A class assignment turned into an article that a newspaper wanted to use... which is always nice! So, indulge me while I post the link to the piece here. I'm like a little girl with a 6-scoop icecream...

Here it is.

(Does this make me "internationally published" now??)

Women gone blind

2006-04-22T00:55:00.000-04:00

So, what is up with the run of losers with either a) hot women or b) multiple women? Seriously.

We were at Haru tonight, all dolled up in our New Yorker finest, impractical shoes included, downing green tea margaritas and saketinis as the music pulsated and trays of uberfresh raw fish landed rhythmically at each table.

In the booth across from us, was a guy, just an ordinary-nothing-special guy, seated between two fairly attractive women. One disappears part way through the meal and Nondescript Guy starts making out with the remaining one. Then, about 15 minutes later, Makeout Girl disappears, the other one comes back and he starts to make out with this one too. So, now we have Makeout Girl Parts One and Two. This alternation carried on one more time and then they -- thankfully -- left.

It was like Dinner Theater, mystery story and all. Why would these two women be making out with this guy? But, like bad Dinner Theater because you already know the answer.

Anyway, side-bar entertainment aside, was a really good night. With just one caveat: tempura cheesecake does not work!

Ah Brown..

2006-04-16T00:47:00.000-04:00

Have had a very Brown weekend... it's nice to know that, deep down, none of us has changed a whole lot. It's easy to revert to being "so Buxton" again. So Buxton, so Brown, so... us. The comfort zone returns, eventhough I haven't seen some people in a long long time.

My flakiness returned in full force tonight too. I'm telling you, it's all their fault -- my friends! (Yeah, Nans, wipe that innocent look off your face!) So, here's the embarassing Rhea story for the night. We were standing around, waiting for a table at a Peruvian restaurant on the upper eastside when this fancy Mercedes convertible pulls up. The guy driving it was the most non-descript man ever -- oldish, short, balding, bad fashion sense. And the girl was young, Asian, pretty, well-dressed and tall. We looked at each other and reached a conclusion quickly: it's got to be about the car! (what can I say, we get bitchy around each other!).

This is all fine until we wander about two feet away and start talking about this other guy we knew at Brown, trying to describe him to the one non-Brownie. Suddenly, I'm inspired by an illustrative description and, pointing to the Mercedes, cut in loudly with: "He's like that guy, only without the Merc!" I see Jaewoo's expression and know, instinctively, that Merc Guy is standing right behind me.

I thought I was going to die! The only saving grace is that Merc Guy and his girlfriend were just picking up food and left about 3 minutes later. But not before he shot me the dirtiest look. Ouch! I did feel bad though. Especially because I think we were right on the money (literally) about why that girl would even date him (trust me, he didn't look like he had personality either). And it can't be nice to have uncomfortable truths pointed out by strangers.

Yeah, Brown reunions bring out the bitch in me. Most of the rest of the time I'm really nice. Really.

Chicken or the egg?

2006-04-12T23:53:00.000-04:00

.... And speaking of things we inherit from our mums, I finally got permission to use a particular photo on my blog (had to go the permission route or incur the wrath of the mums)... the photos do speak for themselves at some level. But, the question really is, who went wild first?

The mothers? Or the daughters?

What kind of wife are you?

2006-04-08T23:23:00.000-04:00

How come plans inevitably revolve around food?

Thurs: Ethiopian (and tequila and comedy)

Fri: Dhansak and kababs (and wine and girls)

Sat: Pizza and peanut butter (and poker -- made it all back and then some again!)

Sun: French toast (and mom-time)

Is the need to feed one of those things we just inherit from our moms? At the end of Friday night, I got told that I'm all ready to be a "good corporate wife" -- throwing dinner parties, entertaining... Have to say it gives me great pause to be considered wife-like at all. Though, I am getting pretty good at the domestic goddess stuff. Then again, people have been telling me what sort of wife I'm going to be right from when I was 19 (note: being told you'll make a good "trophy wife" is not a compliment!) and I'm nowhere near being one yet, so I guess it's not really an indication of anything.

Besides, my good corporate wife image holds up only as long as mum will still make the kababs!

On writing...

2006-04-03T01:21:00.000-04:00

Papers lie scattered all across the table. Notes scribbled in blue, black and pink on sheets lined and unlined. A bottle of water, a take-out cup of coffee, a porcelain cup of chai teeter on the edges of books.

I sit down and read. I stand up and pace. I sit back down to write. I stand up again.

Time has no meaning. I can't feel the seconds go by. Nor the minutes, nor the hours.

I am hot and then cold and then hot again. The sweater comes on and off every hour. I want my hair tied back, I want it piled on my head, I want it hanging to my shoulders.

Everything is hazy except the words on the screen. The blank white space filling with words. Words arranged a certain way, words that say a specific thing. Voices of people I've talked to jostle for space in my head. Their words are wild, unmanageable. I need to restrain them and force them onto the white space. I can't sleep till there's no more words left to say what I need to say.

I love it. The total absorption of creating. The hot and the cold, the coffee and tea, the restlessness and ensuing calm.

The day floated by in a state of semi-consciousness. I am spent. Now, I can sleep.

Feels like home

2006-03-30T18:38:00.000-05:00

Late night chats.
Strolling through the sunshine.
Shopping for things necessary and not.
Godiva dark chocolate squares.
High drama television, curled on two ends of the couch.
The smell of spices wafting, comfort food.
High chai.
Presents!
And news from home.

A mother makes such a difference to a living space...

Bollywood Hollywood

2006-03-26T20:35:00.000-05:00

Have you ever sat down in a theater and then the movie starts and you're wondering if you're in the right place? Went to see Inside Man today. It's about a bank heist in NYC. Clive Owen, Denzel Washington, Jodie Foster. So, I was certainly not expecting the opening scene -- clips of NYC -- to be accompanied by 'chaiya chaiya.' Yup, the SRK-Malaika train-top song from Dil Se.

Very very weird. Though, it was amusing to be able to pick out all the desis in the audience in the dark. They were the ones bobbing up and down in time to the music and giggling and whispering in surprised undertones (not unlike us. I tell you, the beat's infectious!)

Anyway, then the movie continues and two hours, ten minutes later, the credits roll with... chaiya chaiya remixed by Punjabi MC. The whole thing was such an anomaly. There was nothing remotely desi about the movie. There was one Sikh guy in a minor role. That's it. There was a huge song-movie disconnect.

So, I've been searching the internet trying to find an explanation. Grady Hendrix (Asian Film blog writer for Variety.com) seems to think it's because Spike Lee loves Dil Se.

Ok, well still, it was a strange choice. And now I can't get the tune out of my head.

Talk dirty and get lucky

2006-03-26T00:18:00.000-05:00

You know how I said I just need to get better at poker? I think I just did (ok, it was probably luck, but I need a little room to brag here). I made it to the final three, won back more than I put in and it was only the second time I've played. Yeah, I'm kinda getting the hang of it.

Even aside from the game, tonight was destined to be a good time. The conversation began in the gutter and stayed there all night. I don't think I've laughed that hard in a while. All I know is I'm bringing plenty of one dollar bills with me the next time because clearly some people won't take dollar chips as a substitute.

City girl

2006-03-19T18:43:00.000-05:00

I've become much too much of a Manhattan princess. More specifically, I'm an Eastside princess -- put me in Chelsea or the Upper Westside and I'm a little disoriented. So, today I ventured out to the 'burbs, lured by the promise of adventure and good food.

I've lived in NYC for about 1/2 a year now and I'm sorry to admit I've never taken the N or R south of 8th Street. So, it was the strangest sensation to suddenly emerge from the bowels of Manhattan's underground into the sunshine, speeding along, suspended above the river. Even stranger was to look behind me out the windows and watch the Manhattan skyline recede (I'd say, "into the the distance," but that seems a tad melodramatic. It takes all of 3 minutes to cross the water). For some reason, I felt like I was leaving home. Which confirmed the idea that I really need to get out of Manhattan more. I'm getting a wee bit too Sex and the City (remember when Miranda and Steve decide to move to Brooklyn?)

Anyway, turns out, Bay Ridge, Brooklyn is charming. They have *gasp* space! No 8x8 sq ft rooms. And they have one of the best places for Greek food that I've ever been to. In fact, I don't think I've had better in Manhattan (shocking!). I was altogether pleasantly surprised. The only hitch, really, is that lunch takes 4 hours because of the commute. Which was fine today cos I had sacrificed Saturday night to work, but on more loaded weekends, would be tough.

Now, just can't wait for the weather to cooperate so I feel like exploring beyond my side of the island more. More Brooklyn, more Westside, more Queens, perhaps...perhaps even Bed-Stuy. Umm..ok, maybe I'm a little too "princess" for that.

Momentary flashes of insight

2006-03-16T17:29:00.000-05:00

You know those moments in your life when what you're doing suddenly makes sense? I think I had one of them yesterday. It wasn't an I'm-bringing-people-a-better-understanding-of-world-hunger-as-a-journalist-eureka moment (honestly, I'm not sure I understand it myself). No. My moment was at a coffee shop, while talking to a young man (YM), who I'd met for the first time yesterday. Two hours and one vanilla latte later, YM says to me: "I don't really know you. But... I think I'm going to ask you something anyway." The question was about a girl. 20 minutes later, I'm vehemently insisting that she likes him, "take it from an older woman who knows how women think." And that's when it hit me. YM and I are on opposite ends of every kind of spectrum there is. And yet, in two hours, we'd built a trust. I understood where he was coming from (which is totally separate from agreeing, I still don't) and he felt comfortable enough to confide in me. And it occured to me that this is it. This is what being a good journalist is about -- being able to see things, standing in another person's sneakers, whether you agree or not, and having the person realize you won't judge him. Because that's when he really lets you into his life.

I'd been wondering for a while, before this, whether the comfort level I reach so quickly with strangers is normal. I mean, a couple weeks ago, I was meeting with a senior journalist for an assignment and out of nowhere we were talking about my relationship with my father. Then, a few days later, my career services counselor and I veered off "magazine journalism" and ended up discussing long distance relationships and whether 30 and single is ok. And last Thanksgiving, I visited some people for the first time, went to a huge family dinner with them where I knew nobody, and yet, by the end of the night, everyone assumed I was the younger son's long term girlfriend -- a guy I had just met that evening.

I'm not sure what all this says about me. But I know what it says about how I see other people. I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I think most people are interesting. Ok, I'll amend that. People who live with intention, whatever the intent is, are interesting. And I think that's what leads me to form an intimate writer-interviewee bond with them. Because I want to know what's going on inside. I guess this could have made me a decent psychologist too. But the thing is, I also think I'm interesting (hey, I'm an Aquarian, we're vain, can't be helped) and am tempted to share my life. Which wouldn't do for a shrink. Writers, on the other hand, have enough room in their professional lives for an ego. Yeah, I think I'm in the right place.

Behind the velvet rope

2006-03-12T20:51:00.000-05:00

You know it's been a good Saturday night when you start out catching up with old friends in the Village and end up partying like a rock star in the Meatpacking District with people you don't really know.

Somehow I envisioned myself falling into bed before 1 AM. The night started out innocently enough. A friend from college was in town with his wife (who I'd never met) and there was a little reunion with "the boys." Good food, good drinks, great company, good times.

Later, I was en route to my apartment when I got a call. Redirected the poor cabbie (he had to swerve to switch lanes!), made a pitstop at Union Square and went on to Lotus. Inside, we end up in the VIP section, behind the velvet rope. Didn't know anybody except the friend of a friend who invited us. The table, one grand just to reserve it, was laden with mixers and glasses and Grey Goose and ice. Every time the bottles reached the 1/4 mark, a waiter swooped in and replaced them. I'm not sure what they're paying bankers these days, but clearly it's enough for them to drop several grand a night at a club. But, as a guest, who's complaining? The music was good, we were out of reach of the crowd of sweaty bodies, and we found ourselves dancing on the couches. It's a wonder the heels of my pink mules didn't rip holes in the upholstery.

[Random sociological observation (no claims to universal applicability): it seems the more money people spend, the less sophisticated they need to behave..]

And I've decided the only cure to the morning after a rock star night is lots of fluffy french toast, eggs, and a dose of the most intense movie available -- one that stretches your nerves taut and gets rid of that hazy feeling in about 5 seconds. Go see "Crash" if you haven't already. It's totally worth it.

Happy endings

2006-03-10T14:36:00.000-05:00

So I was having this conversation earlier today and it got me thinking. I used to keep a diary religiously when I was younger... almost til I left for college. And when I go back now and read through it (I should say 'them' since there are multiple volumes), I'm struck by a) how there was always so much drama in my life and b) despite the drama, I was an incorrigible romantic, always optimistic. And I can't help comparing that to now, which makes me realize I've become a lot more cynical about love. I guess bittersweet experience is responsible for that, but it makes me kinda sad.

Last week, in the midst of all the mad work I had, I took a break at 11 to watch 'Sex and the City' reruns as usual. I'd been watching all of last semester and then again since I've been back and we were at the series finale. You know, the one where Big shows up in Paris and rescues Carrie from the bad (tho hot) Russian, saying "Carrie, you're the one." Now, I have inexplicably always loved Big, eventhough he treated her like crap for years, and always wanted them to end up together. But last week, watching that episode again, I was like, that's such bullshit. How often does that really happen? And it annoyed me that SATC had turned mushy at the end.

But, although she gets buried under the rubble of cynicism sometimes, I think that romantic little girl is still alive in here somewhere. Because, deep down, I do still want to believe in happy endings. So, I've convinced myself that it was just general grouchiness over work that made me react like I did. And that it is possible for things to work themselves out before it's too late. At least, sometimes..

Spring break ain't what it used to be

2006-03-09T17:32:00.000-05:00

Bliss. Spring break has officially started for me. And I'm looking forward to an evening of nothing but trashy TV and chocolate!

Of course, spring break doesn't mean the same thing in graduate school as it did when I was an undergrad. Back then, I could actually take off for a week and fly to Reykjavik to soak in hot springs, to see my friend nearly tumble into a dormant volcano, to party til 4 in the morning, to admire chiseled Icelandic men (though, the women were hotter).

Now, spring break means time to do in-depth research for stories that are due the second classes resume. The professors seem to think we got partying out of our systems back when we were irresponsible little undergrads. Hah!

But still...even if it's only a technicality, spring break does mean 9 hours of sleep and yes, time for some fun, even if it's in NYC. I can hardly complain too much, this is a great city to be stuck in.

Blank noise project post

2006-03-07T12:00:00.000-05:00

Danger lurks in the shadows around me. At least, that's how I've felt for the last few days. The sexual assault and murder of a grad student in the City last week shattered the illusion of safety I've depended on since moving to New York. I suppose what's most shocking about it, in a city with a pretty high crime rate on any given day, is that this one could have been someone I know. It could have been me.

The safety bubble will return. I know that. It does, every time it's been blown to bits. The time we walked from the bus stop back to the house and a bunch of guys, several years older, came up and touched us, using the excuse of Holi and the "friendly smearing" of color. The time I was nearly knocked off my bicycle because someone reached his hand out toward my chest and made me swerve into traffic. The time some balding, paunchy old man pinched my rear and winked. The time I was propositioned near the DMV by someone at least 45 years old, eventhough I had mentioned I was barely out of my teens. The time a well-dressed but creepy old man followed me for half an hour and two train changes before I met a friend and finally lost him. The time someone I knew left bruises, some of which were invisible. Each time, the bubble popped. And a few weeks later, back it came. For the preservation of sanity?

For now, though, there is an uneasiness that pervades the air. I am scared by the guy who hisses a sexually suggestive term at me as he passes by on the subway platform. It's broad daylight. There are people on the platform. Nothing will happen and nothing does. But my heart races for a minute.

[I completely forgot about the Blank Noise Project blogathon date. And now it's not the 7th in Bombay, Delhi or Bangalore...but I thought I'd put my two cents worth down anyway]

Girlie girls

2006-03-05T00:22:00.000-05:00

It's been a long, rough week. And it won't let up for at least another five days. But there are the moments that keep me sane...

Taking a mid-week afternoon chai-coffee break and sitting up in an NYU studio apartment being girlie girls. Shaadi clothes ("I want mine to be a deep red and weigh like 15 kilos!"), gay Pakistani designers ("Bride ko badam khilao!"), people with no taste, people with fabulous taste...

Having a leisurely Friday night dinner, talking more than we eat. Rolling eyes at Pajama Girl ("What is she wearing?? I used to sleep in those!") and Scarlett O'Hara Girl ("It's not supposed to be a corset, honey.") and laughing over high school politics...

Yes, girlie girl moments are fun. Though, of course, the boys are now going to think this totally justifies the times when we're sitting around, talking football and one of them looks up at me and goes, "Oh sorry... Guys, let's talk about Lakme's new shade of lipstick."

Hmph. I happen to like football. It's the best-looking sport.

Libations

2006-03-02T18:40:00.000-05:00

Today's the second day of March, but nobody's sent the memo up to the weather Gods. The forecast is 'wintry mix.' Whatever that means. According to James (poker pal and fellow future journalist): "It sounds like a cocktail." Which it does.

Speaking of drinks, I ignored the lure of Starbucks and, instead, had bubble tea today for the first time in a long, long while. I remember when it was really big a few years ago. I think my first one was in Beijing with Jo and then I scouted out all the Taiwanese food stalls in Hong Kong. Food fads are funny, how they come and go. Weren't Pop Tarts popular sometime in the... early '90s? Anyway, I was handed a cup of sea green, opaque liquid, which alone should have set off some warning bells. But I was distracted by the "bubbles" at the bottom and warmed by happy memories of sunny days at outdoor Taiwanese cafes. Yeah. Never again. Let's just say I'm now acutely aware why some things are just fading fads. My taste buds will recover at some point and when they do, I'm sticking with my tall-non-fat-sugar-free-vanilla-soy-lattes, thank you very much!

Blood and gambling

2006-02-26T01:03:00.000-05:00

Ever notice how real blood looks fake? I ended up, yesterday, with pools of blood all over my light wood floors and it occurred to me that it looked too red somehow. Like an exaggeration of 'blood red.' Very weird. (Note: I cut my foot, hence the blood. No need to call 911, though flowers would be nice..)

On a completely different note... I'm beginning to understand the national obsession with poker. It always seemed unfathomable to me that people watch it on TV and play it online and that even the Hollywood stars spend their weekends playing (though, I suppose that last one is less mysterious since that's where the serious money's at). But now that I finally succumbed to the temptation and spent an evening playing, I see the allure and it could be addictive (which is really bad news for someone with my personality). Now, I just need to get good at it.

Boys will be boys will be boys

2006-02-24T16:19:00.000-05:00

I think what I'm loving most about grad school this semester is that I spend a lot of time just reading amazing books. And I don't have to feel guilty about the hours spent curled on my couch, book propped up against my knees, peppermint tea in one hand and a pencil (to underline my favorite bits -- yeah, I'm that kind of reader!) in the other. I'm actually required to do this!

And when you're reading this much, it's inevitable that things catch your eye. Some of them actually make you laugh out loud. For instance, this quote from a ten-year-old boy:

"I have a lot of girlfriends, about six or so," Japeth said, turning contemplative. "I don't exactly remember their names, though."
(From The American Male at Age Ten, Susan Orlean)

And I'm thinking to myself, Japeth, you're already a man! Kids do say the darndest things..

According to Orlean's article, psychologists say that 10 is around the age "when guys get screwed up about girls."

Hah. What were you like at age 10?

Words..

2006-02-23T00:22:00.000-05:00

"The places I've surfed sometimes seem like so many beads on a memory string, a rosary of hundreds of small stereopticons, wherein multicolored waves break in amber."
(William Finnegan, "Playing Doc's Games" in the New Yorker)

That sentence is so beautiful, I swear it almost made me cry. (The day I can describe something like that, I really will cry!) Everytime I think I'm getting closer to where I want to be as a writer, I read something like this and think, man, I have a long way to go. I feel awed and humbled.

I know, it seems a little melodramatic. But it isn't when all you want to do is write -- and write so breathtakingly that people are stopped in their tracks by something you created, even if it's just one sentence. Or one turn of phrase. And then maybe they'll take that sentence and blog about it. Then, you've arrived.

This is New York

2006-02-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

So the long weekend is finally at an end. Class tomorrow..

I think what I love most about New York weekends is Sunday brunch. It's like a ritual. And is never boring. That's the other thing about New York weekends -- you go out and encounter all the various species of strange folk that populate this crazy city.

Take this Sunday, for instance. We went to brunch around the corner from my place. It was fairly early (had woken up early-ish with the deluded belief that I would actually "get work done in the morning." Hah!). Anyway, it was past noon but before one. Which meant that the restaurant was buzzing with the over-thirty-fives and under-tens. Most self-respecting 20-somethings were probably just emerging from bed..

We got seated quickly. To the right was an older lady sitting by herself at a table, wolfing down mini muffins. As we looked around for our waiter to get coffee, we noticed this rather interesting phenomenon. Older lady takes a sip from her coffee cup and then summons a waiter. She points at the lipstick mark on the rim that she just left and asks for a new cup. He obliges and brings her a new cup. She takes a sip and then summons him back to point to her newly planted lipstick mark. And asks for a change of cup! And well...you get the picture.

Anyway, much as this was a fascinating scene to watch, I was getting impatient with our waiter. He hadn't come by to get the order yet and the two girls to our left were doing the whole "Omigod, so i totally didn't get laid last night" thing, which was very annoying to have to put up with sans caffeine.

Our waiter finally comes over and practically collapses onto a chair. He takes our order but his eyes are a little glazed over. He forgets to ask Roxanne what sort of tea she wants. About ten minutes later, still no coffee, he comes over again. "Hey guys, I'm sorry. Did I take your order already?" We exchange looks and nod. He starts to make us repeat ourselves and halfway through, goes "Oh yeah, now I remember!" and shuffles off. We never see him again.

A few minutes later, two new waiters come up, retake the orders of all the tables in our section and the maitre d takes off his blazer and starts serving us. Very very weird. And most of this happens with no coffee. Which is really the only thing that fazed me. After all, this is New York.

Beginnings

2006-02-20T01:03:00.000-05:00

I never thought I'd blog. Ever. I've always been a pen and paper kinda gal. There's something of the old school romantic about me when it comes to writing. I feel like if I'm going to bare my soul, the medium should be attractive. Preferably pink and scented.

But I've spent the last 6 months listening to a very insistent professor tell me it's the future. And though I've cursed the day he made me start blogging for class (yeah, I have two work-related blogs already), I respect him way too much to be totally oblivious to his insidious suggestions.

So, here it is. The beginnings of a blog -- just for fun. My attempt at catching up to "the future." Call it a momentary flash of insanity..