Fayetteville as in Fate

Since I've moved here, I've grown increasingly interested in how an immigrant, or people of immigrant descent, specifically anyone of non-Caucasian descent define their identity in America.

Some of these definitions make me cringe, some make me cock my head to one side and think, some are closer to my heart than others, but all of them, are interesting. And of course, this is not the most eloquent post I've ever written. But ignore me... go on and read / listen to Dr. Mohja Kahf's "Fayetteville as in Fate"

(*edit: Thank you, NH for introducing me to the poem. )

K.to K.laugh or K.not to K.laugh

There's just so much wrong with it that I don't know where to laugh or cry.
I have mentioned the attack in passing before, but the more I hear of it, the more sorry I am for the state of affairs back home.

Here's what the upholders of our dignity and virtue have to say:

...to protect women from the evils of western culture is our right. It is the duty of every Indian citizen to stop such activities as pub culture is not ours,’ Muthalik asserted.

I'm sure he's never ever had a boner, leched at a Katrina Kaif poster or watched a Shakila movie or even been with a woman - its their honour and virtue at stake, eh?

oh sweet gods! I'd rather die than be protected by these assholes, really
What kind of protection are you talking about really? when you physically assault a woman?

and what the fuck for?

violating traditional Indian values, you say?
like not drinking, smoking, wearing jeans, cutting my long hair, talking to boys save husband, father and brother, kissing, having sex, going to a pub, dancing, hugging men, saying fuck-off, choot etc?

damn.
I have to now self-combust and die of shame for I desecrate all Indian values.
nahiin!

The Blue Hermit

The sibling and I were in conversation today where she compared me to her (the character, not the actor) and by some incredible co-incidence, she and I thought of the exact same person - chemical hermit, who went off our radar a long, long while ago.

I cannot even begin to describe to you what a hilarious shared memory that is - suffice to say it involves teenage drama, cuteness and cooties... well sort of the cooties.

Aight... so despite the evil things we say about the yogi there is one incredible memory that I have stashed away that involves him: the big 21st birthday midnight.

I had had the worst ever midnight ringing in of a birthday with the then boyfriend.
(Think long drive punctured with unpleasant silence)
I came home to an ultra-awesome family + cake and sing song
...the icing on the cake truly, was having Hermit call from someplace outside the des
and in his ahem, sexy baritone, say something
totally flattering

And that was the last time either of us heard from him.
I don't know if I will ever meet him again, but I must remember to hug him for helping salvage that midnight.

this one is to this guy: to his incredible sense of humour, ability to be completely unjudgemental and for how he handles every situation.
I know that I might not know all of you. But for our few shared moments, and memories that could in all probability be just mine - I admire you. I adore you and I and love you.