brown sugar: want some sweetness?

Stories from the Store

2008-01-28T13:24:00.000-08:00

As I've mentioned before, my parents own convenient stores. What I've failed to mention is that they happen to own them in some the whitest suburban towns in the Bay Area. Interestingly enough, my parents' (and the employees') presence has caused somewhat of an intrigue with "Indian culture".

Exotification #1:

Customer: I just saw this wonderful movie about your people.

Mom: Really, which one? "The Kamasutra"?

Customer: No. It was called "The Nama-sake" (the "sake" pronounced as our favorite Japanese drink)

Mom: You mean "The Namesake"?

Customer turns bright red.

Exoticfication #2

Mom: Where did you get all of this food? Chawal, daal, sabzee?

Tony (our manager): From that crazy gori that wears a sari all the time.

Mom: Why did she bring you food?

Tony: She thinks that all Indians are vegetarians. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I only like meat dishes.

New Beginnings

2008-01-18T12:11:00.000-08:00

New Year, New Job, New Adventures!

And (maybe) New Posts!

Happy Belated New Years Everyone!

:-)

"You Can Be My Hero, Baby!"

2007-12-04T12:11:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am officially the biggest dork ever. But I couldn't resist this Krishan Behl pic. Anything to make Brownie smile :-).

Happy Tuesday!

Christian Bale Maybe Going Overboard With the Heroes

Bale Also to Save Humanity Without Cape: Now it’s official: Following last week’s rumor, Variety reports that Christian Bale is in fact in final negotiations to play hero John Connor in Terminator Salvation: The Future Begins. Can’t the star of the super-sweetly-monikered The Dark Knight get them to do something about that title? [Variety

My Life Is A Bollywood Movie

2007-11-26T12:29:00.000-08:00

*My old college roommate is dating the brother of a guy I’m somewhat interested in (no, not good since I’m not sure where the relationship with me and him is going-talk about awkward).
*The past few weeks I’ve been realizing that I’m way too interconnected with what seems to be everyone in the Bay Area (see above and then some).
*ID crisis of who I should be
*I hate what I’m doing but I can't seem to get a break for a new opportunity
*I’ve started becoming a good Desi wife by cooking elaborate Punjabi meals
*I’m still mourning the one that I lost
*My fashion sense is becoming even more ridiculous
*I spend more time day dreaming than working
*No matter how hard I rebel or get in trouble, people still like me
*I can’t seem to get the latest Shah Rukh Khan movie soundtrack out of my head.

This pretty much sums up my month of November. I'm just waiting for the climax and the eventual happy ending :-).

Tell KABC Radio Host Al Rantel to Apologize for Calling the Turban a Diaper

2007-10-10T10:05:00.000-07:00

From: http://www.saldef.org/

Al Rantel of KABC Compares Turban to Diaper

Radio Commentator, Al Rantel, host of a daily program on Los Angeles radio station KABC 790AM, was discussing airport security on September 10, 2007, when he said:
If my 80-year-old mother has to take off her shoes during a security screening "then why shouldn’t a Sikh be required to take off the hat that looks like a diaper they wear on their heads?”

SALDEF urges you to show your support in asking Mr. Rantel to issue an on-air public apology to the Sikh American community. Add your name to the petition, demanding Mr. Rantel apologize for his comments comparing a religious article to shoes and diaper.

Oh Where In The World Is Sugar????

2007-09-21T15:32:00.000-07:00

Hello readers,

Yes, it is I, brown sugar, still alive and well. Sorry I haven't updated my blog in over 6 weeks (yikes!). I didn't realize it until Ganesh commented on my previous post. Part of it is interviewing for new jobs (gonna hear if I got my dream job or not Monday morning-send some good luck vibes to me), another part is trying to meet new people in the wake of people moving on with their lives away from CA.

Also, to be honest, I have been toying with the idea of shutting down the blog. The "Happy One Year" essays were a way to begin the healing process that I had been avoiding, and now that it is complete (the essays, the healing is starting to begin), I'm not too sure where to go with the blog. As you may remember, I was supposed to meet up with BP in NYC. It happened on a windy afternoon by the Staten Island Ferry during his cigarette break, and basically, it just made me sad to see a medicated BP who wasn't as vibrant as the man I once cared for all those years ago. I guess me playing with this idea of shutting the blog is a way to close that chapter in my life. But then again, I adore the community we have here and have had the honor of meeting some of you IRL and calling you genuine friends. Without this blog, I don't think I would have met them.

Sure, I still have some random encounters with folks (like the guy who proposed to me 20 minutes after meeting me and another proposal from a guy who thought I was Yemenese-don't ask me why these proposals are coming, I'm just a quirky brown girl with a weird fashion sense and a strange obession with Bollywood. But, hey, at least my mom is thrilled), but I don't know if I have any other stories to share. Guess my life is pretty boring apart from that.

No, this is not a declaration of a blog shut-down, but I just wanted to share where I am at. Who knows, I may start posting more next week (especially if I get the new job). Just wanted to say that I am here and still working on things and who knows, I may be back in full force before you know it (or not). Until then, I look forward to reading (and commenting) on your wonderful blogs and appreciating the community we have.

-b :-)

Happy One Year-Section 3

2007-08-02T13:21:00.001-07:00

Well, I finally got the nerve to publish the last part. It's been hard since a lot of things I'm going through right now, mainly with my career,is related to this post. There is a lot more, but honestly, I'm glad to be sharing this portion with you. Thanks!

Happy One Year-Section 1

Happy One Year-Section 2

The time between BP’s departure from my life and my graduation six weeks later was a blur. I passed my comprehensive exam, completed my clinical internship, and had three job offers in my hand by the end of April. Yet I don’t remember anything from that period, as if I was stuck in a haze while I went about doing what I needed to do. What I do remember is calling BP, holding my breath as I highlighted his name in my cell phone, pressed the dial key, and held it up to my ear to only let out a sigh when I heard his voice mail.

I did not to attend my graduation. I no longer felt connected to the degree I earned, only thinking about what my next move should be. I remember wandering around NYC, taking the subway to random stops, thinking of whether I should make this place my home. The city was beautiful, caught up in that cusp between spring and summer where the city air was warm and smelled the way it would before the humidity set in for the summer. I still remember sipping a cup of ice tea at Battery Park, staring at a hazy image of a distant Statue of Liberty thinking.

I needed a change.

I decided to move back to California.

I left NYC on a Tuesday morning and RJ drove me to the airport. Driving into Queens on our way to JFK, I looked at the Manhattan skyline getting smaller on the passenger side mirror and said a silent goodbye to the city that gave me so much.

******

Within a matter of weeks I got a new job, a new apartment, and a new life in San Francisco. I decided not to pursue becoming a therapist since I felt that in spite of my training, I couldn’t help someone so close to me, how could I help my clients? Back in CA, I got reacquainted with old friends, made new friends, and even began dating again. I also tried to embrace my new home in very much the same way I embraced NYC, by getting lost on their public transportation and discovering new pockets of the city. Yet that same sense of adventure wasn’t there for me as it was in NYC. On one excursion to Dolores Park, I felt my phone vibrate in my jean pocket. It was BP and I hadn’t heard from him in five months.

“Hey babe, I’m walking along York Avenue right now. You wanna go to Barking Dog for some pancakes and talk?”

“Um, I don’t live in New York anymore. I’m in San Francisco now.”

“What? When did you move? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I moved after graduation. Anyways, I thought you wouldn’t care if I stayed or left.”

“I wish you were here, so much has happened.”

I sat down on the grass facing the San Francisco skyline, forgetting about the wind on the hill, as BP relayed to me his tumultuous time since I last saw him.

Even before my departure from NYC, BP began to descend into a sea of confusion. AK moved out of the apartment to live with friends and with him, the weed was gone, too. BP threw himself back into his work, spending long hours in the office working on his particular projects. But when work got out, he became restless. Nights he would wander, go to strip clubs, visit call girls, and began to drink excessively. He was spending exorbitant amounts of money on his exploits, along with making trips to Atlantic City, gambling his money, snorting coke in the bathroom to keep up. He would then spiral down, spending hours in bed, depressed and zoning out in front of the television for days on end. His mood and behavior became erratic. Eventually he began to miss work, with his projects declining, his project manager called him in for an evaluation.

“’Either you get help or you get out,’ she told me. I was asked to go in for a psychiatric evaluation. Sugar, I got diagnosed with bipolar.”

I remember my heart sank as I sat on the hill while my brain was abuzz, going through what I know about bipolar, the manic behaviors, and the signs to make a diagnosis. It was so apparent, why had I not noticed it before? As BP shared his therapy and medication schedule with now daily meetings at AA to work with his addictions to coke, weed, and alcohol (did not want to go through the less strict Narcotics Anonymous), I was overwhelmed with guilt. How come I didn’t notice it before?

I left the hill at Dolores with my soul lost among the fog. I was wrought with guilt that in spite of my limited training, I should have seen the signs, connected the behaviors. I wished that I were more forceful in helping him, persistent in my interventions. Perhaps I was so caught up with my own recovery, that I ignored his. All these questions filled my brain.

******

For the next couple of days I carried the conversation I had on the hill with me. I went over little moments from our relationship, both bad and good, trying to make a connection. I was grateful for the help that he provided me through my own personal struggles, but maybe I could have given him more. But then again, I did, so it wasn’t on me that I tried. The regret and the anger both were swarming through my mind.

All these thoughts swirled in my brain before finally I had to call BP. I needed to ask him questions, to clarify my role in the relationship, and more importantly, to see where I went wrong.

“BP, I am so sorry. I can’t believe that I didn’t see it…the signs,” I cried to him on the phone.

“No, Sugar, please don’t think that it’s your fault, it’s mine for not listening to you. I know you tried to help, to get close, but please don’t blame yourself. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. I’m on my way to being fine, you’ll see. You’re inspired me with your recovery and you’ve moved on. I’m glad. It’s kinda funny, in a way, your caring and your love saved my life.”

“No, BP, you saved mine.”

Looks Like Brownie is a Modern Cool Nerd

2007-07-31T14:53:00.000-07:00

Your Score: Modern, Cool Nerd

82 % Nerd, 56% Geek, 43% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
You scored better than half in Nerd and Geek, earning you the title of: Modern, Cool Nerd.

Nerds didn't use to be cool, but in the 90's that all changed. It used to be that, if you were a computer expert, you had to wear plaid or a pocket protector or suspenders or something that announced to the world that you couldn't quite fit in. Not anymore. Now, the intelligent and geeky have eked out for themselves a modicum of respect at the very least, and "geek is chic." The Modern, Cool Nerd is intelligent, knowledgable and always the person to call in a crisis (needing computer advice/an arcane bit of trivia knowledge). They are the one you want as your lifeline in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (or the one up there, winning the million bucks)!

Congratulations!

***Thanks agk for the procrastination idea****

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

The Saga Of The Kabobwalla

2007-07-24T12:27:00.000-07:00

Sorry haven't written about London. But here's yet another encounter from across the pond.

March 2002

Location: Kabob take-away in by Earl's Court Station, London.

Sugar is slightly tipsy with her friends at 3am.

b: (in my horrible Urdu). Um, could I get some water with my kabob roll? (In English) Sparkling water, please.

Kabobwalla: (In Urdu) We don't have sparkling. Have some 7-Up, it's the same thing.

b: (back to Urdu) Uh, no it's not. It's okay, I don't want anything to drink then.

Kabobwalla: Drank enough, huh? You girls dressed like that, chi chi.

b: (Yelling in Urdu) What? How dare you say that! Forget this, just give me my kabob!

b's friends: What were you yelling about, b?

June 2007

Location: The same kabob take-away.

This time b is sober and it's only 10:30pm

b: (In Urdu) Could I get some sparkling water with my kabob?

Kabobwalla: We don't have that. Why don't you take some 7-Up? It's the same thing.

b: (To myself) Where did I hear this conversation before?

Sing To Me?

2007-07-13T11:26:00.000-07:00

Last week on my way to Staples on the corner of California and Battery:

Random Security Guard: How is your day going?

b: I'm alright, just running errands for my stupid job.

rsg: (walking along side of me) Can I tell you something? You are just so beautiful. Can I sing a song for you?

b: (in my head: I'm confused, I'm beautiful? Poor security guard needs glasses) You're gonna sing to me right here?

rsg: Yes Ma'm! I'm a hidden talent, waiting to get discovered.

b: Really? Let's hear it.

rsg: Could u be the most beautiful girl in the world?

Its plain 2 see ure the reason that God made a girl

When the day turns into the last day of all timeI can say I hope u are in these arms of mine

And when the night falls before that day I will cry

I will cry tears of joy cuz after u all one can do is die, oh

b: (swooning) Wow, thank you. Seriously, that is so sweet, no one has ever sang to me before (except for the drunk guy on the bus in London)

rsg: Well, you're welcomed beautiful. I would give you my number, but I think your boyfriend would get mad (turns around and crosses the street)

b: (to myself): What boyfriend?

London Calling

2007-06-20T10:38:00.000-07:00

Sorry I've been MIA for the past couple of weeks. Things with work are getting hectic and heated (they're keeping me through the summer but at a price-I won't be able to meet with my students for career counseling, the one aspect of the job that I like. Instead I have to teach resume building???). So my love for my org and my coworkers is dwindling. Plus, with the insane amounts of going away parties to attend and friends saying goodbye and trying to meet others has taken it's toll. So what does a girl do? She blows half of her pay check for a jet-setting weekend to London.

Well, hopefully this trip brings the clarity I need to put things in perspective. If not, at least I'll get to gorge on English breakfasts, fish and chips, Cadbury's, scones, and my favorite, balti chicken.

Have a great weekend everyone and cheerio! :-)

Whatcha Think?

2007-06-07T11:45:00.000-07:00

When I first moved to SF, I tried yahoo personals and it didn't yield much (apart from a good guy friend). But this little article is interesting. You gotta love Sepiamutiny sometimes...

http://dating.personals.yahoo.com/singles/relationships/682/two-of-a-kind

Any experiences, opinions, stories?

What's On My Mind Today...

2007-05-31T11:56:00.000-07:00

So I just got word that my two really close awesome friends (who are sisters) are moving to NYC sooner than expected-like in matter of days. I'm SO excited for them (especially since one will be working in music and the other is going to nursing school), but there is this ripple of sadness and panic that is going through me right now. A part of it is that they were my buddies, the ones that got me out of the house, the ones that were always up for a movie or try a new restaurant, or go to a show (i.e. I dragged them to see Voxtrot with me at GAMH last night and BTW Ramesh was at his hippity-hoppity best!) so essentially there goes my social life here in SF.

Another part is a mild jealousy. While I love NYC more than I love SF, the two years I spent there were tough with life, school, boy (I promise part 3 is coming, it's just been a really difficult section to write). I guess I'm kinda jealous of the fact that they will actually get to enjoy NYC in all it's glory while I'm stuck here in a city where I'm wearing a turtle neck on the last day of May (yes, it's that cold here today and yeah, I have some other complaints about the city, but I'm just going to complain about that for now). These are the friends that were very supportive of me when I moved to NYC in the first place when even my parents were fighting against my move and they were also the first ones on that plane to come out and take care of me when I needed them. They're gonna be out there pursuing their dreams while I'm on the other coast trying to figure out mine.

Of course one idea is to move back to NYC-I have the potential to get my licensure there without any problems (too many hurdles in CA) and go back to doing work with the SA community, something which I miss doing. But something is keeping me here, more a feeling than anything. Maybe it's because my parents are getting older, moving is such a hassle, the weather (can't stand humidity), the hope that maybe something better is coming (love-wise, work-wise, and dream-wise), I can't quite put my finger on it.

So today my mood is bittersweet with a dash of panic and confusion. Just had to get it out there so I can at least try to get some work done and sift through CL to see if my dream opportunity is out there. And who knows, a glance at the personals might yield something (hey, a girl can be hopeful, right?).

The Not-So-Fun Part of Working in a Nonprofit is:

2007-05-24T14:22:00.000-07:00

...you find out that you lost funding for your program :*(.

Sad, considering that in the end it's the kids that suffer...

Looks like it's back to the drawing board.

Life's Simple Pleasures

2007-05-21T15:39:00.000-07:00

It sounds like it's been a crazy couple of weeks for everyone (me included). I've been kinda depressed for a multitude of reasons (job, stupid men, failing diet) so I thought I would try to write out my simple pleasures to remind me of the little joys that can be found (or cultivated).

1) Having my morning cuppa coffee ready for me when I get out of the shower.

2) Morning yoga

3) Eating a good meal

4) Laughing

5) Working with my kiddies

6) Spurts of creativity

7) A good movie

8) Celebrity crushes ;-)

9) The smell of lavendar on my pillow

10) Connecting with friends and family

11) Shopping (bad for the bank account)

What are some of your simple pleasures?

Is It All About the Make-Up?

2007-05-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago, I was wandering the shops in Union Square after work killing time before meeting JaB and RbB. Usually when I have to kill time, I wonder into Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters to get ideas before I buy knock-offs at H&M and Forever 21. But my usual wanderings got me thinking about where my life was going. I'm in a job I'm beginning to get bored at, my three bestest friends in SF are leaving me this summer (one's moving to LA and two are moving to NYC), and on top of it, I haven't been able to find a pair of jeans I like. AND don't even get me started on my (nonexistent) love life (at least there's always the hope of Krishan Behl) .

I needed a change. No, not a personality change (wouldn't know where to begin-plus not feeling like going back into therapy) or a wardorbe change (I actually like my quirky fashion sense), I needed something more drastic.

The answer: Make-Up.

Now, being 28, I had never bought any make-up before. No, I'm not naturally gorgeous, just naturally lazy. I'm also sure a lot of it comes from being was traumatized as a teen with weird make-up experiments from friends and a mother who were much lighter than me, resulting in a not so beautiful face where I looked more like a desi clown than a super hot bollywood celebrity. Those two factors resulted in me never attempting to buy make-up.

Until that night.

Wandering around Macy's, I stopped in front of the Benefit Counter, thinking that they weren't as scary as the MAC Counter with their three layers of cake on the attendents' faces. So as I peered over the interesting colors of eye-shadow (yeah, I'm easily amused), the counter girl comes over and asks if I need any help.

bs: I have something funny to tell you, I've never bought make-up before.

benefit "valley girl": What? You've never bought make-up before?

bs: No

bvg: Uh, do you like go out?

bs: A little too much.

bvg: Do men like talk to you?

bs: Not the good ones, but yeah.

bvg: Uh, okay...can I try some things on you? Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick

Readers, let's just say I looked like a desi valley girl with pink eyeshadow and lipstick. At least JaB and RbB had a laugh when I got into their car.

Yeah, I'm sticking with my al natural look.

The Cost of Love?

2007-05-08T14:35:00.000-07:00

Setting: Walgreens on Market and 3rd a couple of weeks ago. I'm buying some last minute sunscreen before I head home to pack for my trip to DC. Yours truly is standing in line, reading a tabloid (of course!). The young man standing in front of me turns around.

Young Man: Hey, I'm a film student across the street (at the Academy of Art) and I'm making a documentary. Can I ask you some questions for it?

BS: Umm, I have a fear of cameras. (eyes go back to the article on Britney)

YM: Ah, okay. I don't have my camera on me so don't worry. I just wanted to try out some questions. Is that alright?

BS: Uhh, I suppose...(why do I have to be soo nice?)

YM: Tell me, what's the price of a cup of coffee?

BS: I don't know, I make my own coffee.

YM: You do? Oh, um okay. How about this: how much do you think a gallon of gas is?

BS: I wouldn't know, I don't drive.

YM: You're not helping.

BS: Sorry about that (back to the Britney article)

YM: How about this, what's the cost of love?

BS: (head goes up, surprised at question)

YM: (after a couple of moments) Well...Have you ever been in love?

BS: Err, um, hey, I think you're next (pointing to the cash register).

Life Sucks!

2007-05-02T13:08:00.000-07:00

I HATE today!!!

*Walked into the office and one of my coworkers asks me how my new job search is going right when my boss walks in.

*Went to Justin Herman Plaza to see their Conan event and my ex, who almost a year ago to the day after he told me that there was another woman and dumped me, comes up to say hi. He looked good and I looked like crap. Great!

Yeah, I wanna go home and hide!

Williamsburg Hipster Seeks Prehistoric Emo?

2007-04-24T14:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, I go to a lot of the so-called hipster shows here in SF (like tonight I'm going to see The Cinematics and Mute Math at Slim's), but I wouldn't consider myself a hipster-I can't stand their wanna be cool attitude, their "vintage clothes" bought new at Urban Outfitters (or the more expensive Anthropologie), and the vacant look in their eyes. That is until I read the description for a "Williamsburg Hipster" on www.yourscenesucks.com which describes exactly what I'm wearing right now-scary... I need to comer up with a new image...or at least a new wardrobe!

So what kind of hipster are you, if you dare to share?

Fun FYI: My dream man would be a "Prehistoric Emo" boy named Krishan Behl ;-). Anybody out there in the blogsphere who could hook me up? J/K.

Will Things Ever Get Better (Part 2)

2007-04-23T07:12:00.000-07:00

So, I would consider myself to be one of the biggest Bollywood fans out there, so I was excited when Perez Hilton posted things about the "abhiash" wedding this past weekend. Nevertheless, the comments are getting out of hand here...

http://perezhilton.com/topics/aishwarya_rai/catching_up_with_the_newlyweds_20070422.php

Perez has yet to respond...

Will Things Ever Get Better?

2007-04-11T13:02:00.000-07:00

Note: I just noticed ANNA posted this on Sepiamutiny. Check out the discussion on there but you're welcomed to comment here, too...

Just got this off the SALDEF listserve. Thought I needed to share it...

Sikh American Veteran Assaulted by Police Officer in Illinois
SALDEF calls for immediate probe into assault and the xenophobic, anti-immigrant statements by police officer against bronze star recipient

Washington D.C., April 11, 2007 -- The Sikh American Legal Defense and Education Fund (SALDEF), the oldest Sikh American civil rights and advocacy organization in the country, today called upon the Joliet Police Department to investigate the actions of one of its officers when patrolling a local neighborhood.

On Friday March 30, 2007 at around 3:00pm, Mr. Kuldip Singh Nag, a Sikh American who was awarded the Bronze Star for his service in the U.S. Navy during the first Gulf War, was at his home in Joliet, IL when a local police officer noticed that a van parked on Mr. Nag’s private property had expired registration tags. Upon being confronted with this, Mr. Nag’s wife, Vera Kaur Nag, informed the officer that the van is parked on their driveway and was inoperable.

Mr. Nag then came outside to answer the officer’s questions regarding the van. The Joliet police officer then demanded that Mr. Nag park the van inside his garage and not on the driveway, to which Mr. Nag responded to the officer that it was not possible and that regardless, the van is parked on his private property and he has a right to park it on his driveway.

At this moment, the officer pulled out his pepper spray and attacked Mr. Nag. As Mr. Nag screamed in agony, the officer removed his baton and violently struck Mr. Nag numerous times until he fell to the ground. While the assault ensued, the officer was reported by both Mr. and Mrs. Nag as saying, “You f****** Arab! You f***** immigrant, go back to you f****** country before I kill you!”

Mr. Nag's wife and six year-old child both witnessed the violent assault, which resulted in Mr. Nag immediately being admitted to the hospital where he stayed for five days due to complaints of intense pain and head trauma. Mr. Nag also received numerous bruises and a serious head injury which have caused him to go blind for several minutes at a time

“This case seems to be a clear incident of police misconduct in Illinois,” said SALDEF Managing Director Kavneet Singh. “We are horrified at the anti-immigrant sentiment the officer allegedly used as he violently accosted Mr. Nag, and further that his six year old son was a witness to this violent assault. We call upon both Joliet and Illinois officials to investigate this incident and for the Illinois community to stand in solidarity with Mr. Nag.”

SALDEF has garnered the strong support of the Illinois Sikh American community and is currently working with The Chawla Group Ltd to represent Mr. Nag in a criminal case brought on by the City of Joliet.

About SALDEF:
SALDEF is a national non-profit civil rights and educational organization. SALDEF’s mission is to create a fostering environment in the United States for Sikh Americans. SALDEF protects and promotes the civil rights of Sikh Americans through legal aid, advocacy and educational outreach.

***********************

Also, a great documentary on Sikh Americans post 9-11 is A Dream in Doubt. I got a chance to catch it at the SF Asian American Film Festival and would recommend it if it's playing in your area. It might also be airing on PBS soon.

I Have To Return Some Videotapes

2007-04-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

One of my Mom's hobbies, besides putting customers in their place and throwing elegant dinner parties, is her attempt to get me married. She has this aspiration to become a wedding planner and she's decided that the first wedding she should plan is mine so she can show her "work" to potential clients. The problem is that I've kinda sworn off men after my birthday (just can't find any good ones), so I'm enjoying the single life in the city by the bay and keeping myself busy.

Since this weekend, I've been on this Christian Bale kick (not a bad kick to be on). It started with watching the ending of "The New World" on HBO, then watching "Batman Begins" immediately afterwards on demand, and then having the people at Le Video make fun of me as I rented out "American Psycho", "The Prestige", "Little Women", "Harsh Times", and "The Machinist".

As I was trekking back from Le Video with my Christian "booty" (think shower scene in "American Psycho"-the perfect male body according to scientists), I decided to check in with Mom since she was spending the week alone while my Dad is in Montery for a conference.

mom: So, what are you doing this week?

bs: Well Mom, I'm having dinner with KM, SC, GC, and JN on Wednesday. Thursday is going to be fun since I'm going to a fundraiser for Narika, then heading to JaB's music promotion, and an exciting dinner later ;-). Friday JR and his boy are coming in from NYC and I have a birthday party later to go to. And this weekend is Muse weekend with dancing and seeing them on Monday night.

mom: All these plans and you still can't find a boy?

bs: I can't help it if the guys in SF suck. Anyways, I'm in love with a man named Christian Bale.

mom: Behl? You've found yourself a Punjabi boy?!

Looks like I need to have another Christian Bale Movie Marathon with my Mom.

Don't Know What to Think About This...

2007-03-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

I saw this on ultrabrown.com.

Already talked to my Mom and she's not gonna have it in her stores...

Real Kwik-E-Marts? Woo-Hoo!
7-Eleven may convert some stores to coincide with 'Simpsons Movie'
BY JEFFREY KELLEY
TIMES-DISPATCH STAFF WRITER
Friday, March 23, 2007

At the Greater Richmond Convention Center, 7-Eleven field consultant Gary Groves told store workers about the chain's top-selling items.
It appears as though the world's largest convenience store will get Simpsonized, though 7-Eleven Inc. said the deal isn't done yet.
But at a company event yesterday in Richmond, officials showcased their planned promotional ef- forts with major upcoming films, including "The Simpsons Movie."
If all goes as planned, the convenience store chain plans to refit 11 stores across the U.S. -- Richmond is an unlikely choice -- to resemble the front of the Kwik-E-Mart, the convenience store that Homer and other characters frequent in the classic cartoon TV series.
Customers also will be able to buy products inspired by the nearly two-decades-old show, including KrustyO's cereal, Buzz Cola and iced Squishees (the cup says Squishee, but the contents will be Slurpee).
The chain also will use pictures of Simpsons characters to promote 7-Eleven's line of fresh foods, such as placing the face of Homer and his classic "Mmmm . . . sandwich" quip on sandwich wrappers.
Details of 7-Eleven's plans were showed to employees in a booth at a company event at the Greater Richmond Convention Center. It was unclear yesterday which 11 stores of the more than 4,700 nationwide would receive a cartoony facelift or sell inventory of the Simpsons-inspired products.
The movie hits theaters July 27.
7-Eleven also is lining up deals with the "Spider-Man" franchise in advance of the third installment in May. The promotion will feature Black Cherry Lemonade Slurpees and collectible Slurpee cups with three-dimensional graphics on the side.
Finally, the retailer plans to use the June sequel to "Fantastic Four" to promote the Slurpee energy drink it launched last year, called Full Throttle.
Spokeswoman Margaret Chabris said contracts on the promotions have not been signed with movie studios. She didn't give any further details, saying the company will release more information in coming weeks.
"We've done research, and research shows us that our customers like . . . movies, so we're getting involved with some major studios on some of their properties this summer," she said.

Article Link: http://www.timesdispatch.com/servlet/Satellite?pagename=RTD%2FMGArticle%2FRTD_BasicArticle&c=MGArticle&cid=1173350362478&path=!business&s=1045855934855

That Voice...

2007-03-25T08:44:00.000-07:00

I think I'm in love....the voice, the hair...and he's (barely) legal!

Hope all is well out there in the blogsphere. Life's been hectic in a good way (and some bad), but I will be back in full-force, promise.

Enjoy your Sunday with some Paolo! Smile!

Happy One Year-Section 2-UPDATED

2007-03-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

03/17/07 NOTE: I was re-reading the post (and the wonderful comments) and I realized I forgot the brief paragraph introducing BP's roommate AK (it might have been lost when I was pasting it). Thanks for reading!
BTW, if you have HBO, I would encourage you to watch their insightful series on addiction.

Days before I met BP, I was walking along 5th Avenue, heading to Union Square to hear Jhumpa Lahiri read from, at the time, her latest paperback novel The Namesake. I walked slowly along the street, my legs and brain heavy from working two shifts. As I approached 14th Street, I noticed a small cardboard sign with the words “Tarot Readings by Psychic Joe-$3” propped up against a concrete wall of a store and a deck of tarot cards being shuffled by the man himself. I laughed to myself when I saw the sign. After weeks of therapy, I thought maybe some astrological direction could help me out of the abyss of emptiness that surrounded me.

I sat down on the sidewalk, forgetting about the dirt on the ground, intensely focused on the reading before me. While I realized that sometimes these readings aren’t logical, I was searching for something illogically magical, at a bargain price, by an amusing character trying to make a buck.

“You’re going to meet someone within a month. He’s not ‘Mr. Right’, he’s not ‘Mr. Right Now’, but he’ll be good for you. He’ll be in your life for six months.”

I remember scoffing at his prediction as I handed him his fee. Since when have the “love predictions” come true for me? I asked him for some metaphysical direction, and instead he was pointing me to a man to solve everything. I remember writing down his words in my journal, more as something to pull up to amuse myself when the month was over and there was no “Mr. Right”. Little did I know that almost a week later I would find myself in a cab with my friend from Philadelphia, on our way to a bar in the West Village to meet up with her college friends.

*****

Psychic Joe’s prediction didn’t come to mind after the confession that night over calamari. In days, BP and I became that inseparable. We spent many evening sharing whispers and kisses in the cab on our way to various restaurants in NYC. Usually our evenings ended with us walking hand in hand along the East River Promenade, with Randall Island blinking at us at a distance, before he dropped me off to my apartment. It was autumn and the crisp air invigorated me, the changing leaves capturing my emotions. BP never spent the night; I wasn't ready to share myself with him and he gave me my space. Later that Halloween, we were invited to a couples party where we had to dress up like our favorite lovers. BP and I appropriately picked Annie Hall and Alvy Singer, characters who we would later muse reflected the essence of our short relationship.

I continued my therapy and BP was there to provide the support when therapy could not. For one of my classes, we would convene once a week to discuss our cases at our respective internships with our professor. As my fellow classmates would share their cases, we would all discuss ways in approaching the case. One evening, a student shared a case where her client confided that she had been sexually assaulted and sought therapy to cope. My eyes started to get moist as my classmate shared the case, sounding very familiar to my own story. Impulsively, I got up and left, unable to hear the case or the approaches recommended. When BP came to pick me up from school after my frantic phone call, I ran out and wrapped my arms around him, releasing my tears on his waiting shoulder. BP held me tight as we got into a cab and headed to his apartment, where he spent the evening wiping my eyes and feeding me dinner. Later that night, I fell asleep in his arms, feeling the warmth of safety around me after a long time. I felt alive.

I made BP the light of my dark world. A month into the relationship, I introduced him to my best friend JR and RJ in NYC after work in Chelsea. I remember sitting across from JR as he eyed BP over his matzo ball soup, trying to read his face. When BP got up to have a quick after dinner smoke, JR looked up at me and asked: "Is he treating you right? Does he make you happy?" When I answered with a nod, JR shrugged his hesitant shoulders. "I don't know sugar, he just doesn't fit right with you. But as long as he's treating you well, I'm happy." Although I was confused by his statement, it was much more important for me to get his blessing, after all he was the only "family" I had in NYC. Other friends from out of town, coming to visit NYC, also met him and had the same reaction: "there's something up with him" and "I don't know b, I never pictured you with guy like him". I ignored their comments, thinking that I know him better than anyone. His friends, on the other hand, appeared to like me and would joke around and call us the original "Beauty and the Geek", a comment we would, in private, laugh at since BP was the real beauty taking forever to get ready while I would be the geeky one reading as I waited for him.

One of those friends was AK, a friend of BP’s from Penn State, who had fallen on hard times. He was in debt and had recently got kicked out of his apartment in Jersey City. AK was trying to get his life back on track after losing his job and had began a job working at a car dealership in Manhattan. Three months into our relationship, BP offered his couch to AK until he found a place of his own either on the island or New Jersey. It was supposed to be two weeks. BP also wanted to cap his stay since AK was a “pothead” and he didn’t want to get wrapped up in that again. BP smoked out heavily during college and it died down when he attended graduate school. And considering his past abuse with alcohol, he did not want to be a part of that addiction again. Or so I thought.

It was two weeks that turned into three months.

*****

As winter gave way to spring, I noticed BP's behavior change gradually and he became more distant. BP was always someone that was particular about his appearance, ironed shirt and pants, hair combed. Before AK moved in, we would spend our mornings getting ready together, including me picking out his shirt for the day from his closet. Eventually, BP would wear whatever was on the floor, whether it was washed or not, and take a hit before work. He would begin his day with a hit and end it with a blunt, ignoring that I was by his side. One evening we found ourselves in Murry Hill to meet some of his friends and during the party, he called his "guy" to drop off his stash at the corner of 35th and Park Avenue for him to get high. Even on the morning of my birthday, he didn't want to celebrate with me instead choosing to spend the day in New Jersey smoking out. I ended up celebrating my 26th birthday with my best friend and his partner watching "Hotel Rwanda", wanting to also share the day with him, too. While he was my world, the weed was the top priority in his life. I kept quiet, not letting BP know how this was affecting me. I was afraid to lose him and be alone again.

*****

AK had also started to pick up on how his marijuana use was affecting our relationship. On the evening that "Melinda and Melinda" came out, BP, being a huge Woody Allen fan, bought tickets the first evening show. I was excited to have an evening out with BP since most of our evenings were spent in, eating take out while AK rolled the blunts and I just sat there. When I got to the apartment, BP was dressed, ready to go, standing by his television.

"You know what would be fun? Watching this movie stoned. AK, roll me a blunt."

"BP," I pleaded, "please just for one evening can you not smoke out? Please?"

I was sitting on the couch, and the coffee table between BP and myself contained their stash. AK walked in from the kitchen, obviously listening in to our conversation.

"Sorry BP, I smoked the last bit."

I looked up at AK, knowing full well that they had a full stash in their coffee table drawer which I could see and BP could not.

"Fine then! Sugar, let's go!"

As I put my jacket on, I nodded towards AK, silently thanking him for letting me have this one evening.

*****

When BP and I began dating, I had started becoming more involved with the desi community in Queens through my clinic. Nevertheless, I decided to spend my free time with BP, cutting myself off from a potential community of support and activism. I made BP my world. As he was smoking out, I was hoping for him to look over at me. I was searching for the BP from the beginning of our relationship, looking for that light. Instead I found BP sucking the life out of the relationship with every hit he took.

I was worried about him. While I still had the support of my therapist and my work to prevent me from regressing back into my living corpse state, BP had no support, aside from me. I brought up my concern to my clinical supervisor, a substance abuse counselor herself. Usually personal matters are only discussed in relation to the client that you are treating, however, in this case, I needed a professional perspective. According to research, while marijuana is not considered an addictive substance, but for some, depending on how they treat the drug, he or she can become dependent on the state that being high causes. I discussed BP in supervision as a case study, sharing with my supervisor the client's history, behavior pattern, and his relationships with others, mainly myself. In the end, she encouraged me to help BP seek treatment, and possibly a psychiatric evaluation, so that we could get to the bottom of his addiction.

I remember after the meeting walking to the subway station, reflecting on the time that BP and I had spent together. Those three months before AK moved in, when BP was taking care of me, were the best months I ever spent. It startled me to think that this whole time he may have been suffering from something else and me, being a therapist-in-training could not pick up on it. The three months since AK moved in were tough, with BP falling deeper into his addiction and I knew I had to do something, not so much for the relationship, but to help BP.

*****

BP and I met up for Thai food on the Upper East Side. On the way to restaurant, I rehearsed what I was going to say to him. When I sat across from him, I noticed that he needed a hit, considering I made him meet me right after work. I saw before me a man that had transformed from the night on the other side of town all those months ago. The attentive caring man had turned irritable and antsy with his hands tapping out the moments until he could get into a cab back to his apartment. I took another breath, preparing myself to make a promise to be there for him, much like he promised me.

"You're wrong Sugar, wrong! I don't have an addiction. I'm stressed, work is intense and smoking calms me down. You go to therapy and make stupid necklaces as a stress reliever and this is my stress reliever. If you don't like it, then we can stop this right now!"

BP got up and left. No one was there to wipe the tears from my eyes.

It had been six months and two weeks since Psychic Joe's prediction.

Doing Her Part

2007-03-12T21:33:00.000-07:00

My parents own convenient stores. While I used to be ashamed of it when I was younger (Apu didn't help), over the years, I've become proud of the work they do.

This past weekend, my mom shared some of her stories from the store. It just goes to show that this world still has a long way to go.

Incident 1:

Customer hands a $100 bill to purchase a pack of cigarettes. Mom holds the bill to the light to make sure it's real.

Customer: Don't worry, it's not from your country.

Mom: Excuse me? You think that just because India is considered a 3rd world country that all counterfeit money comes from there? Take your money and never come to my store again! Please leave!

Incident 2:

Customer standing off to the side, scratching away at a lottery ticket.

Customer: So tell me, why do you only hire Indians? They don't even speak English properly.

Mom: Do you know how hard it is to immigrate to a new country? This store is a stepping stone for them. Think about it, say you, as an American, went to India to find work, where would you feel most comfortable working? Admit it, you would feel more comfortable working with Americans, right? Same thing here. I'm proud to give those opportunities to people who want to work hard than those relying on a lottery ticket to change things.

I love my Mom!

Multiple What???

2007-03-05T10:17:00.000-08:00

You gotta love the aunties... ;-)

http://www.abcdlady.com/2007-03/chaiNoon.php

Thinking about making a Punjabi version of this-watch out Gurinder Chadha!!!

Happy One Year-Section 1

2007-03-02T15:17:00.000-08:00

NOTE: I’ve been mulling over the past couple of days on whether I should post this or not due to the personal and painful content of it. I’m not an expert prose writer, but I felt compelled to write this after an interesting call last weekend and I was not planning on sharing it. I decided to go ahead and post it more as a part of my healing process on this anonymous forum than anything else. Also, a situation with a friend left a group of people I adore confused by my behavior, and maybe writing this can help explain it more for myself why this is a pattern in my life. Anyways, I tried to keep it short, but it turned into a much longer piece, so I’m breaking it up into parts and posting over a period of time, in between less personally intense posts.

Section 1

It was Oscar Sunday, on an unusually sunny morning in the Inner Sunset, ironically the foggiest part of SF. I had just gotten off the phone with my best friend in NYC after spending a half-hour discussing our predictions for the event (best dressed, not best movie). Afterwards, as I was tidying up my apartment, I hear Mozart’s Symphony No. 5, my ring tone, playing and ran to the phone. I picked it up to see my ex’s name flashed across the caller ID. Usually, I’m shocked when I get a call from him since he is one of those people who is not a fan of any “communication”. But he actually surprised me by returning my phone call from the night before when I tried reaching him while I was re-watching “Manhattan Murder Mystery”. I had called him at 11pm that Saturday night, forgetting that it was 2am in NYC.

“Hey Sugar, guess what? My One Year is coming up on March 9th. Who would have thought?”

One year sober, who would have thought? BP, the man that gave me so much, but took so much away, the man that made NYC so special for me, yet so disastrous, will be celebrating his one year.

And I’m proud of him.

****

I first met BP at the beginning of my second year in NYC in 2004 through a family friend who went to school with him at Penn State and wanted to introduce me to him. I remember first seeing him standing in the threshold of the bar, inhaling the last bits of his cigarette against the noisy August night of the West Village before he entered to join us. He was skinny (105 lbs to be exact) and was dressed in a white long-sleeved stripped shirt tucked into a pair of khakis. BP looked like a little boy wearing his father’s clothes. I was introduced to him and immediately was not attracted to him. He smoked, was a “corporate bastard” from Wall Street, and just didn’t fit the image of the artsy boys that tend to go for. I even got annoyed that he didn’t know how to use chop sticks and ended up giving him an impromptu lesson when the group ordered sushi and it came with no forks. Even though we were sitting next to each other, after the chop stick lesson, I didn’t talk to him for the rest of the evening, instead chatting with my friend to catch up.

The following evening, I was out with the same friend and we eventually ended up a club where BP happened to be with the group from the previous night. I wasn’t feeling the music at the club, me being more of a Brit-Pop sort of girl, so I sat at the edge of the dance floor, drinking my Bacardi and Coke to, hoping the buzz will make the music more bearable. BP wasn’t much of a dancer and sat with me as he sipped his club soda. We both began talking, me commenting about the music and he shared the “wild times” back at Penn State. I remember thinking “oh, he’s just someone to talk to for tonight” not realizing that the dancing group kept looking over to see if there was any chemistry between us. BP invited me out to the smokers' patio for a cigarette break and, even though I don’t smoke, I welcomed the opportunity for a new group of people to watch.

BP lit his cigarette and took a drag while I tried to look through the haze of smoke.

Then BP randomly asked me: So, what’s your sign?

Me: Huh? What is this, 1972?

BP: No really, what is it? Hey, I just wanna make conversation.

Me: Uh…Pisces.

BP: Oh, really? I know a couple of Pisces. You guys are some of the nicest people on earth and that’s why people walk all over you.

I gave him a nervous laugh, knowing that he was speaking the truth about us astrological fishes.

We spent the rest of the evening going in and out of the club, with him asking me questions about what got me interested in studying therapy, my teaching experience, being a Californian in NYC, again, trying to “make conversation”. Before the night let out, we exchanged numbers, thinking that for me that it would be another friend. In NYC, while I loved the anonymity, recently I had started feeling incredibly lonely in the sea of people. I was lucky to have my best friend from CA on the island, but with him in Harlem living with his boyfriend, and me living by myself in a tiny studio on the Upper East Side, we barely saw each other. BP lived around the corner from my school and he suggested that we grab dinner some time. At the time I was working three jobs and going to school, so having dinner with someone new seemed like a welcomed break from eating yet another slice of pizza as I poured over case studies, my evening ritual.

*****

A couple of weeks later, BP picked me up in front of school. It was a warm September night and I was waiting outside, standing under a street light, trying to read a book. I was in jeans and a t-shirt, with my curly hair wrapped in my usual bun, perfect attire to have dinner with a friend. I didn’t hear BP come up behind me and was startled when he tapped me on the shoulder. He laughed as he leaned down to pick my scared book off the ground and handed it to me. Through his giggles, he asked whether I was craving Mexican or Italian; apparently he made reservations at two restaurants, not knowing what I would like. I immediately got nervous since I never thought that this was a date, just dinner with a friend. But I decided to go along with it, after all, it had been a few months since I had a dinner date, plus I could, over a free meal (hey, I was a poor grad student) could kindly tell him that he just not my type.

I chose Mexican and we walked across the street to the restaurant. During the meal, I complained how the food wasn’t authentic (I am from CA, after all) but I was also enjoying the conversation we were having. BP was born and raised in Philadelphia where he was an only child in a Bengali family. He got into his Wall Street firm through a friend and enjoyed the feverish pace of the stock world and the lifestyle that came with it. I also learned that he had been arrested for a DUI five years ago, went to AA for a year, and had been sober since then. Only recently had he started having the occasional wine with his meal. With me getting my degree in counseling, I ignored his confession of drinking and was more interested in hearing more about his recovery process. What was it like to be in AA? Did you complete the 12 steps? How did your family react? All these so-called “shrink questions” that he answered with tremendous candor and it piqued my interest in him.

During dinner, he got a call from his boss, asking if he had left the office. I would later learn that his boss, and all his co-workers, were excited that he had made dinner plans with me, considering he hadn’t been on a date since he began working there a year before. His boss was afraid that he might have blown off dinner to do more work on a project. While that phone call confirmed with me that this was a date, I was strangely excited by the fact that someone wanted to have dinner with me, a bookish, somewhat quirky girl who had a secret of her own. .

As BP was walking with me along Broadway to the M79 bus stop after dinner, I kept on glancing at the little man next to me, surprised that I wanted to spend more time with him. A little bit had to do with the fact that for once I wasn’t spending a lonely night in the Big Apple, but that there was something intriguing about him in the way he carried himself. Here BP was a recovering alcoholic, making a new life for himself after going through a recovery process. I needed a taste of inspiration for the things I was dealing with.

As the weeks went on, BP and I found ourselves spending more time together. Another dinner here, a party in Jersey City there and we found each other getting closer to each other and it scared me. I never shared with him my secret, but it was obvious that I was in my own world when we were together. On one of those warm evenings, he took me to Hoboken to see the Manhattan skyline and there BP confessed, with the lights of the city illuminating behind him, that he liked me and wanted to pursue a relationship. Instead of being elated, I panicked. It wasn’t fair to him that in my state, someone should start a relationship with me. I was just too damaged that I felt that no new person, even BP, could support me with that, in spite of being lonely.

*****

Two months before I met BP, I was sexually assaulted by a stranger in the back of his car. As with many victims of sexual assault, I was traumatized, shaken. Not only did I lose faith in others, I lost faith in myself. I felt violated and became distant and hypersensitive. This, compounded with the fact that I was in NYC, far away from anyone I knew, made my suffering a very solitary experience. My best friend and his partner RJ were amazing and were there for me, but I needed more. I put myself in therapy to deal with the trauma, but therapy is only an hour and there were still 23 more hours in a day, 167 more hours till my next session, to still deal with. I don’t remember ever crying about what happened, not even in therapy, instead I became more withdrawn forming an invisible barrier around me. I thought of telling my mother, but decided against it, scared that her over-protective side would come out and she would make me move back home, not letting me out of her sight. I thought I needed to be stronger and threw myself into school and took on two more jobs so I could avoid reliving the event in my head. Also, I wanted to show the people who knew what happened that I was alright and I moved on from it. Outside, I knew I appeared fine to my classmates and professors, but inside I was falling apart. It was analogous to my apartment at the time, where there was a mess inside with items strewn on the floor, but I could just close the door, lock it, and no one would know. I even contemplated suicide, but after remembering what a friend’s parents went through after her own suicide a year before, I knew I could not put my parents through that sort of grief. I was a living corpse when I met BP and yet he saw something in me, a sparkle perhaps. I was exhausted from putting up a front. Even though I wanted something new, bringing someone new into my world while I was working through things just didn’t sit well with me.

I decided that I had to tell him before it got too far, before either one of us became attached. I invited him out for some midnight calamari at a restaurant on the Upper West Side, wanting to tell him everything. I picked up on the fact that he was a little bit nervous when he emerged out of the subway, especially since I pulled him out of bed to meet me so late. As we sat down, I took a couple of breaths, trying to prepare myself for the confession. After the third deep breath, I began to tell him what had happened to me, how I was coping, and why I could not invite anyone new into my dark world. I kept my eyes focused on the tea mug in front of me, letting it warm my clammy hands, causing a weird sensation. I never looked up at him as I told him more than my therapist knew, more than anyone knew about what happened that night. BP got every single painful detail. As I relived the event, my emotions becoming stronger, tears forming in my eyes, finally feeling something after many weeks of feeling numb.

I heard BP lean forward and felt one of his tiny hands around my shaking hands, while the other wiped the tears streaking down my cheek.

“I’ll be there for you.”

I felt drops of life seep back into me. Little did I know that I would come alive only to have it evaporate six months later...

The Brown Sugar Project

2007-02-26T12:22:00.000-08:00

Now, I'm no writer (and certainly not a poet), but while I was at my parents' house a couple of weekends ago, I came across this old journal I had back in NYC. In there, I would write my reflections about my clients, among other things, while I was taking the R from Queens back into Manhattan. I found this musing scrawled on a wrinkled page with my attempt to draw an eye right next to it. I don't remember what compelled me to write this then, but I thought I would post it anyway.

I guess sharing this is a way to help me refocus the original intent of the blog, which was to deal with my own "bicultrual strain" (or, to be more clinically appropriate, bicultural identity integration-lord, I'm such a therapist) along with connect with others who are also Desi through the blogsphere. Also, I would contribute it to watching "The Grace Lee Project" on Sundance this past Friday.

Don't fret, though, I will keep the boy stories coming, too ;-).

At least you'll get a laugh at this below for now :-P

The Desi Stare

There you are standing there, looking at me,
across the subway platform, a fellow desi

are you trying to unravel who I am with your stare,
size me up, look me down, figure me out,

are you trying to catch a glimpse of my inner soul, my karma, my chances of nirvana,

are you trying to find a bond, a connection in this land,

are you expecting me to approach you, to greet you, to embrace you

or are you expecting me to look at the ground when our eyes meet

are you wondering what the two of us are doing here in the same place, two people, same background at the same time?

Funny thing is, I'm wondering the same thing about you...

What am I doing in SF?

2007-02-21T10:11:00.000-08:00

Well, at least I don't have to deal with the cold in the winter and the humidity during the summer. Thanks Tamasha for the link :-)

You Are 80% NYC

You are probably a real New Yorker, though there's a good chance you really live on Long Island.

Pillow Fight in SF

2007-02-15T08:41:00.000-08:00

equals great stress reliever ;-)

pic from: http://laughingsquid.com/pillow-fight-in-san-francisco/

The Best Thing About Valentine's Day...

2007-02-13T21:55:00.000-08:00

is February 15th when all the candy is 50% off...

Have you ever?

2007-02-13T14:34:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt that you were meant for something more? That maybe you are pursuing the wrong things, that maybe you are not fulfilling your destiny? This is kinda how I am feeling at this point, at this moment of my life, sitting at my work computer trying to type out a grant proposal. Now, I should be excited about writing this since it's a proposal for my baby, my program that I developed and nurtured into fruition over the past year. Also, this grant is to fund my position for the next three years. It's a program that's unique to the city that I've enjoyed sharing and teaching for a year. But now, I'm sick and tired of it, dread teaching it, and even abhor putting in the effort to write a grant to renew my program. I've been feeling this way a lot towards this job. It's funny, my workshop helps students realize their potential through a series of activities where students take inventory of their interests, their values, and their skills to find their career paths. Here I am at almost 28 (5 more weeks to go) and I'm still trying to figure out how to fulfill my potential, to find a path-and I'm a career counselor (for this year, at least).

For a long time I thought I would find my path in school, both undergrad and grad, both in a rural setting like Davis, CA and a bustling city like NYC, but I ended up more confused than ever. While I am working at a nonprofit I believe in with youth that make me smile, I still feel unfulfilled. I leave work every day not feeling elated but ready to run and do something else, be it hang out with my friends, seeing a show, making a piece of jewelry, shopping, movies, whatever it may be. Yet I've lost that passion after only one year of working at this postition. Maybe it's my overly perky co-workers, maybe it's the ever changing climate of working at a nonprofit, or maybe it might be that I get bored way too quickly with things. I've never held a job for no more than year-part of it because of circumstances and part of it because of the sheer misery of doing the same thing over and over again (at least I have an interesting resume). Although on the surface everyone (including the city of SF perhaps) might say that I am doing an amazing job, fulfilling my duties, I still don't feel fulfilled. I've slowly have been retreating into my cubicle, staring at the computer and decorating my cubicle to make it more interesting to me instead of working. It's hard to escape my co-workers, especially in a tiny office of 12. Not sure if a job switch is the answer, but it's looking tempting. But what would I do? Is this what life is all about-working at the same thing over and over again? Loving your co-workers in the beginning, but later wanting to punch them in the mouth? (I'm not a physically violent person ever-that's why I work out- so it's weird but also strangely comforting to think about it). I don't know maybe I'm normal or maybe I'm just still figuring out things, or maybe I need to go back into therapy again. Not even sure if these words are making any sense, but hey, at least I got these thoughts down and can go back to writing this grant.

These are a few of my favorite things...

2007-02-12T18:57:00.000-08:00

Thanks Tamasha for tagging me-I'm honored... :-)

Well, here we go...

Three things that scare me:
1. Being alone
2. The direction this country is going in
3. Losing hope/inspiration

Three people who make me laugh:
1. My "Thursday Night Drinking Crew"-all 7 of them
2. the XBBF from NYC
3. My Bro

Three things I love:
1. Tivo
2. My hands wrapped around a warm mug of coffee
3. My Family and Friends (gotta include both) :-)

Three things I hate:
1. Fake-people
2. SF's Public Transportation
3. Valentine's Day

Three things I don't understand:
1. Men
2. Love
3. Men + Love

Three things on my desk:
1. A box of peach green tea
2. Clippings of my favorite Pisces horoscopes and fortune cookie slips
3. An autographed poster from Ramesh Srivastava of Voxtrot (can you say hottie!)

Three things I'm doing right now:
1. Watching E!'s follow-up to the Grammy's
2. Recovering from a fever and sore throat (at least I didn't have to go to work)
3. Finishing some murgh tikka masala and garlic naan from Naan-N-Curry (not the best for a sore throat, but comforting)

Three things I want to do before I die:
1. Fall in love for real
2. Travel to every continent
3. Design my own jewelry line

Three things I can do:
1. Put a unique outfit together and make a necklace to match
2. Flirt
3. Build myself back up after a defeat

Three things you should listen to:
1. Your inner-voice
2. Your mother
3. Muse

Three things you should never listen to:
1. Mean People
2. George Bush-y
3. Hallmark

Three things I'd like to learn:
1. To wrap a sari
2. Rolling a sushi roll
3. How to ride a motorcycle.

Three favorite foods:
1. Anything from my Mommy's kitchen ;-)
2. See's Candy
3. Bhatura Cholle from Vik's Chaat House in Berkeley

Three beverages I drink regularly:
1. Fat Tire
2. Peet's Major Dickason's Blend Coffee
3. Sparkling water

Three TV shows/Books I watched/read as a kid:
1. Tom & Jerry
2. He-Man
3. Days of Our Lives (my Mom was addicted)

Three people I would like to tag (my fellow SFers):
1. Audrey
2. agk
3. MA

So I have this friend...

2007-02-06T15:29:00.000-08:00

I've kinda been in a huge slump for a couple of weeks. Part of it is being uncerimoniously dumped and the other part is going through all this grant stuff for work (but the guy thing is more on my mind, of course). While I may not be writing about it, I've been talking to friends, drinking, eating, working out, and some other naughty stuff ;-). One person I've always shared my trials and tribulations with is AR. We always talk on the phone, e-mail, text, but the funny thing is we never met. Unlike the blogging community where there communication is mostly written, with us we call each other in the middle of the night-usually drunk (hey, for a dialing drunk like me, it's better to have him to call than one of the ex's) and text and chat on almost a daily basis. I met him on CL when he was "looking for an attractive Indian woman". At that time I was unemployed and between looking for jobs on CL, I would peruse the personals for fun (and the casual encounters for a laugh). Call it my feminist nature (or more like sheer boredom), I replied to the post basically saying "WTF! Why do all you guys go for attractive?" and he wrote back with "WTF! You girls do the same thing" and from that debate, it lead to us exchanging more e-mails and eventually numbers. Now, why have I never met this guy you ask? As nice as he is, he also is kinda dumb in that when he wrote his initial personal on CL, he didn't realize when you log into craigslist.org, it's for the SF Bay Area. With him logging on from Houston, he thought he was posting in his city, but alas now he knows. Now we've been friends for over a year and we still haven't met. AR now lives in Denver and even though he's closer to SF, we still have not met. Not that I'm looking for anything romantic from him, but it would be interesting to meet the man behind the voice, especially after the past craziness...

This past weekend, he sent me this e-mail and seriously, more than any of my "live friends" he seems to be taking on the role of a therapist and I love it. I think that these steps will hopefully get me out of this slump. Any other ideas?

okay brownsugar.......i know we've been talking for a while as u can see from this email....and lately u've been acting weird and i think u should ease up on the whole guy thing......thinking about guys 24-7 isn't going to solve anything.........and getting ur PhD isn't going to help you forget......u have to make a lifestyle change if u really wanna make things work.......maybe u need a fresh start in san fran....i've been in denver for 6 months and i'm looking for a fresh start in a few weeks, i've had many fresh starts in college too when i was there..and even in texas.....it's always good to have a fresh start....here are some tips for your fresh start:

* u complain u are fat, so hit the gym and work out and set some goals to lose weight instead of complaining...it is easy to lose weight at this age...but not when ur older

* u claim u're ugly so get a makeover, it's not hard, and it's more common than u think.....get a makeoverand start wearing makeup and get a hairstyle change and start channeling some perfumes for your newstart....hit up a make over salon or something

* are you happy with ur job? are you really making what u should?...u have a master's degree so why are u not settling for the best u can get? u should look for something better for urself, just get your resume ready and get out there....

* why not move to another part of town? meet new people? sell ur stuff on CL and buy all new stuff for a new apt. ....make a fresh start and forget about the past guys, delete their names, numbers, email address, whatever u have to do.......

start it over i think these things can channel out your guy frustrations and help you get where u wanna be, but u can't get anywhere if you don't do anything.....

Can you work in India?

2007-01-23T16:34:00.000-08:00

Found this while doing some research:

http://tools.monster.com/quizport/default.asp?file=india_culture_quiz

Yet Another difference b/w SF and NYC

2007-01-22T11:52:00.000-08:00

Falling at Penn Station in NYC and breaking your heel: People swarm around you, help you up, and hail a cab back to your apt.

Falling at Forest Hill Station in SF and breaking your heel: People walk right past you and you're left taking the bus since no cabs are in the area.

***********

On the R heading into Queens the morning after you break up with your boyfriend: People are handing you tissues to wipe the unexpected tears, asking if you're alright

On the N-Judah heading to the Embarcadero the morning after you get dumped: People get up and and move away from you as you're balling away.

Bad Blogger

2007-01-17T07:28:00.000-08:00

The server is down at work which means three things:

1) Can't share my random thoughts (don't have time before or after work)

2) Can't read my other fave bloggers

3) I actually have to work?

Ohh, the joys of working at a nonprofit. Love the work, but hate the technology...

Hope your week is going better :-)

A Weekend Food for Thought

2007-01-13T11:56:00.000-08:00

Found this on a bulletin board at work. Kinda cheesy, but hmm...

the most destructive habit----worry

the greatest joy----giving

the greatest loss----loss of self-respect

the most satisfying work----helping others

the ugliest personality trait----selfishness

the most endagered species----dedicated leaders

our greatest natural resource----our youth

the greatest "shot in the arm"----our youth

the greatest problem to overcome----fear

the most effective sleeping pill----peace of mind

the most crippling failure disease----excuses

the most powerful force----love

the most dangerous pariah----a gossiper

the world's most incredible computer----the brain

the worst thing to be without----hope

the deadliest weapon----the tongue

the two most power-filled words----i can

the greates assest----faith

the most worthless emotion----self-pity

the most beautiful attire----smile :-)

the most prized possession----integrity

the most contagious spirit----enthusiasm

Conversations with a Punjabi Mother

2007-01-11T08:15:00.000-08:00

Last night, after cancelling plans with friend Z because I forgot to Tivo "Beauty and the Geek" and "Top Chef", I came home with a steaming hot pizza and a bottle of wine to enjoy a free night from the social life (hence the reason why I've been away-but got some great material-stay posted).

Finally I had time to check-in with the parents! After my dad went off about Bush's speech (he's ready to move back to India), I spoke with my mom.

mom: Hi beta, how are you?

b.s.: Good ma. Hey, I was wondering, why don't you and dad come into San Francisco on Monday. I have the day off.

mom: Why?

b.s.: Why not? We can go shopping in Union Square, check out some sales. Oh, we can try to do afternoon tea in Noe Valley!

mom: Afternoon tea, huh? Are you gonna introduce us to your boyfriend?

bs: Huh mom, what boyfriend? I'm not dating anyone (readers, seriously I am not).

mom: Then why would I do afternoon tea? (Then switching to her own unique Punjabi, Hindi, Urdu, Multani language mix) You are turning 28 in two months, you need to get married, what is wrong with you? Maybe you should go to that MacWorld thing-you work in downtown , you might meet someone. I'm too old to have a single daughter, putri! Pendiren! (Rant continues for another 5 minutes)

Looks like it's gonna be afternoon tea for one this Monday!

Bare Minimums

2007-01-04T14:08:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you, but I tend to have embarassing moments all the time. Some are more embarassing than others, but embarassing none the less. This one especially wasn't my best moment yet it made me think about where I am in the lovely thing known as the love department.

So yesterday while at work I get a call from my friend DR who came in from Chi-town to visit her family for the holiday break. We're old college friends (I was actually her TA back in college) and whenever we get together, all we seem to talk about are boys (of course!).

Like a lot of people, I've had my share of devastating heart breaks and over the years I guess I've become jaded. Instead of having a Bollywood love story where we break out into song in Central Park a la SRK in "Kal Ho Na Ho" (or I guess here break out into song at Golden Gate Park), I've kinda limited my search to the basics. Most of my friends, co-workers, strangers, know the "bare minimums" I need in a partner, including DR.

So I meet DR at the Men's Macy's Store in Union Square during lunch and while her family shopped, she and I went arm and arm through the departments (it is SF after all), catching up on our love lives. In our rounds, I noticed a cute desi guy with a faux-hawk doing some lunchtime shopping. Cute desi guys in SF are an endangered species (plus we have to turn on our "gay-dar" for the really cute ones here). DR noticed me eyeing him but didn't mention anything. By the time we got to the escalator, DR finished her "boy story" right as faux-hawk boy got on to go to the next floor in front of us, just a couple of steps ahead. Of course this is when DR had to ask: "So brown sugar, have you found yourself an Indian boy who has a car, a job, and can get it up yet? You can never find all three, huh?" My jaw dropped and I noticed faux-hawk boy turn around, look at us, smile, and stepped off the escalator. Luckily we didn't see the guy for the rest of our time there (probably scared him or something), but knowing how small SF is, won't be surprised if I bump into him again.

As I was walking back to work, it got me thinking. Crazy encounter aside, I guess my search for a partner boils down to those three things: A Job (doesn't have to be fancy, but he should be passionate about what he does. Plus I'm a career counselor-kinda want him to have a job so I can share it with my kids), a car (it's CA and me being the nice sis I am gave my car to my lil bro in LA where he needs one), and the third part, well...Let's just say it's been hard to find all three...

While I do believe in all those hearts and flowers and stuff, maybe I have become jaded, or maybe just realistic. Hopefully it'll change and I'll have my moment of changing clothes every 2 minutes as I'm dancing at Fisherman's Wharf (lord, I love Bollywood). Oh, where's my Ben and Jerry's Phish Food when I need it... :-)

Stories from Queens

2007-01-02T22:01:00.000-08:00

One of the most meaningful experiences I've ever had was my time as a therapist intern in Queens during grad school doing counseling with desi kids at a clinic. I had many memorable cases some of which might come out in this new blog venture but the "Law and Order" episode that aired on NBC Tues night about honor killing reminded me of a case I worked on with a brother and sister in Pakistan. While there was not an honor killing involved, the episode had me wondering about these two wonderful kids I worked with for a short amount of time from Pakistan.

Although I can't get too much into the case because of confidentiality, their story is nevertheless interesting. I met the kids soon after they escaped Pakistan to the United States. The elder sister S called the US Embassy and they arranged for her "escape" along with her brother A after S reported to the embassy that her family was forcing her to marry her cousin. Both kids were born in Pakistan and came to the US when they were young children. Their parents sent the brother and sister back to Pakistan for fear that they were becoming to Western. When I met them at the clinic early on Saturday morning, they were in foster care with a loving Desi-Guyanese family in Jamaica, Queens and she was determined not to see her family again. They would come every Saturday, where I would meet with S for a half hour and then with A, talking in Urdu about everything about their escape to their new life in America to the fear that their biological parents, who were in Woodside, Queens, would potenially kidnap them and take them back to Pakistan. S would bring in her brilliant Urdu poetry filled with love and hope. S wanted to become poet and a doctor and A wanted to become a cricket player. Both wanted to return to Pakistan to realize their dreams.

I guess the episode had me wondering about the kids. When I left NYC, I lost all contact with them along with my supervisor who overtook the case. I hope that they're alright and both S and A are living their lives happily and I can only hope that they are continuing to receive all the support to realize their dreams.

Happy New Year Suckas

2007-01-02T08:24:00.000-08:00

Hey cyber world-happy 2007. Hope that this year is filled with fun and excitment and sweetness. My New Year's was kinda scary and eye-opening (more about it in a later post) but all is well. Today it's back to work and while I'm not going in with much vigor (I'm wearing the weirdest outfit to entertain myself), I'm interested in seeing what this year has in store for me and for all of you out there and this crazy world. Much love and look forward to a later post :-).

Hello out there

2006-12-28T10:52:00.000-08:00

Well, well, well, I guess I decided to join the blogsphere to see what's out there. As a self-proclaimed lurker of blogs, I thought on this lazy Thursday morning at work (yes, I'm here even though it's a holiday week) why not start this out. Not too sure if anyone would read this, but hey, at least it'll give me a space to record my thoughts and maybe even develop my skills as a writer.

A lil about me. I'm in SF and trying my best to love this city. Why do you ask? It seems as though no matter how hard I try, I cannot escape the Bay Area. I grew up around here, so that made me stuck here until 18. Went to a local UC (more closer to Sacramento but still within close driving distance). After I graduated, I joined Teach for America as an opportunity to get outta CA, and they put me right back into the Bay (lived in Oakland, which I must say is CA's biggest secret-more later about that). Went to graduate school in NYC, fell in love with a boy who became my world so much so that when we broke up, I realized that I didn't know a soul in the big apple and came back here. Don't get me wrong, SF has it's charms (no snow, cool summers, great food), but there are some not so great things (bad public transportation, being stuck around the same people, etc.) I guess one of the biggest perks is that I have a job at a lil nonprofit working with kids that I adore. Yeah, I said I was bored at work, but hey, don't we have some down time. Also, I'm blessed to have a great family and friends but won't bore you with that yet.

I guess another reason why I thought, why not record my thoughts in cyberspace is that, like I mentioned earlier, I'm a total lurker. Actually, the only blogs I tend to lurk are the South Asian ones. As you might have guessed, I'm Indian and in spite of growing up in this multicultural mecca, I have no South Asian friends. I have friends from all different backgrounds, ages, etc, but can't seem to manage to get SA friends that I trust. Maybe it comes from years of being tokenized, or maybe because I'm not a doctor or a lawyer, or maybe because that SA's are so similar to me that I need to differentiate myself. Who knows? I guess their blogs about being South Asian give me some insights into some of my own cultural dealings I'm going through (I should mention that I'm a trained therapist although I am not working as one now). I guess it helps me cope with the "bicultural strain" (like that word-it's actually a clinical term) that I'm feeling. I'm not expecting that the blogs I lurk to read this, but hey, who knows.

So begins this journey. Let's see where this ride takes me...