Day 25: Pet Peeves

Day 25 — My biggest pet peeve that has nothing to do with blogging, being online, computers or anything else related to the Internet is…

I don’t like “backbiting” and gossip much. But that’s too harmful to be classified as a pet peeve according to Misha. So I shall dig around for another that irks me.

I really despise ethnic cliques. 

You know what I’m talking about. That gaggle of giggling girls talking in a foreign language. In America. When they know English.

It’s not just that they’re speaking in an isolating language. No, it’s worse because they act haughty and superior about it. You’re bilingual, I get it. YIPPEE I am so impressed, now get a room.

You know the “Brown” clique at NYU actually calls itself Browntown? That’s just disgusting. Ridiculous and disgusting and gross and revolting and all the other synonyms you can think of. That some ditzy girl wearing 2 lbs of makeup wobbles around in 5 inch heels on the precarious streets of NYC with her gaggle of fellow posse waving around a camera snapping pictures of her “browntown” in loud, girly, giggly voices. Ick. Get out of my way.  (On a separate note, I hate people who walk slowly on the street. Especially when I have only 8 minutes to walk from Union Square to Washington Square Park. Ugh really, bitch, get out of my way)

But yeah, I understand cliques are inevitable because you bond with those who you can relate to. But even then…I think if I was in a group of more than 3 Indians and it wasn’t because I was at a family party, I would go crazy. This sounds so un-patriotic of me. My parents would be so scandalized. I don’t understand why I hate it so much either, but I hate people who insist talking to me in Hindi when we both are raised here and clearly know and use English. AND PEOPLE WITH INDIAN ACCENTS. My gosh I really dislike the Indian accent.

This is like the tip of the iceberg. I could write a whole booklet on sidewalk etiquette. People walking slowly stay to the rightmost side of the right side of the street. People walking in the opposite direction stay to the left side of you at all times. If you’re too busy texting to look up and can tell your shadow is about to collide w/ somebody, move to the right. If everybody did that, the Chinatown sidewalk on a Saturday morning wouldn’t be such a jungle.

 

xoxo,
Pryanka

PS. Yes, I had an urge to really abuse the word “gaggle” in my post today.

 

List of rules and questions is here

Please take a moment to check out the other wonderful blogs participating in 30 days of Blogging Honesty with me!

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Day 24: Having a Voice

Day 24 — Given the choice between having to live the rest of my life without my voice, or living the rest of my life without the ability to hear, I would choose…

This was an instantaneous decision – I would live the rest of my life without my PHYSICAL voice rather than lose my ability to hear. I think that adding that last bit is incredibly important. I would lose my ability to hear over my voice, but I would lose my physical voice over my ability to hear. Do you hear the difference? I don’t think that being able to utter words out of your mouth is what constitutes your voice. As writers, all of us have voices whether or not we are able to talk. I’m pretty sure the very fact that we are writers influenced our decisions on this question – most of the responses I read preferred losing voice over sound.

I love music too much to lose my ability to hear. That would cripple me so, so much. Music is how I express myself and soothe my emotions, if you haven’t noticed with the extensive YouTube videos I put on my website. I need music, and I need to be able to hear what everybody else is saying. Because as long as I am able to write and do my graphic design, I will have a voice.

 

xoxo,
Pryanka

 

List of rules and questions is here

Please take a moment to check out the other wonderful blogs participating in 30 days of Blogging Honesty with me!

Poetic Tidbits – Oppen, Reznikoff, O’Hara

Charles Reznikoff, “On Brooklyn Bridge I saw a man drop dead”

On Brooklyn Bridge I saw a man drop dead.
It meant no more than if he were a sparrow.
Above us rose Manhattan;
below, the river spread to meet sea and sky.

George Oppen, from Of Being Numerous, “A Language of New York”

A city of the corporations

Glassed in dreams
And images–

And the pure joy
Of the mineral fact

Tho it is impenetrable

As the world, if it is matter
Is impenetrable.

Frank O’ Hara, “Having a Coke With You”

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

Note: I need to write a 10 page paper tying these together somehow. I will probably leave out the Oppen tidbit as it is from a much larger collection. The paper is due Thursday and I definitely don’t have time to do the piece justice in context to the rest of “Of Being Numerous” although I have so, so, so much to say about it if I could analyze just this one little tidbit. Enjoy the poetry, it’s all very short and sweet. Wish me luck with this paper!

Sorry to be falling behind on Blogging Honesty – I have 2 papers due this week and another due the week after. Then I’ll be done with my semester, wow. I’m really excited for it to be Thursday night lol, when both of these papers will be done. It’s 2AM and I’ve been up since 7 and I am totally WIPED right now. And I don’t really have much work done on either paper yet (1 is an 8 page first draft to be peer edited, and 1 is a 10 page paper on poetry and politics in New York City)

Such fun! Peace out, imma at least start outlining my ideas for the poetry paper 🙂 I’ve already read the pieces for my other paper (Aristotle – gender, sex, desire in Metaphysics, Physics, On The Generation of Animals) and annotated the readings heavily as I went through them looking for the 3 particular themes I’m supposed to focus on. So now it’s just a matter of penning my thoughts and as its a rough draft, it’s second on my priority list. Final paper is actually due 2 weeks from now for that class.

Aiight, good night. I’ll go to bed before 3AM I promise. Need to be up at 7:30 to get ready to get to class on time since I’m at home in Long Island. I was missing the comfort & feeling a tad homesick. I guess I need to be out of NYC to write a paper on it. Ironic.

Dance With The Devil

This song makes me cry every single time. Without fail. Pain and heartbreak, I can handle stolidly. But this song….no, never. I tear up EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Please don’t listen if you want to retain your good mood, but I guarantee you that it is an amazing song. You must listen. It’s so good. So, so, so good. My god. So good.

I’m writing out the lyrics here if you want to say them along with the song. It will touch your soul, I promise. This is real music. Real deep poetic beautiful music. The kind that moves you.

Dance With the Devil – Immortal Technique

I once knew a nigga whose real name was William
His primary concern, was making a million
Being the illest hustler, that the world ever seen
He used to fuck movie stars and sniff coke in his dreams
A corrupted young mind, at the age of thirteen
Nigga never had a father and his mom was a fiend
She put the pipe down, but every year she was sober
Her sons heart simultaneously grew colder
He started hanging out selling bags in the projects
Checking the young chicks, looking for hit and run prospects
He was fascinated by material objects
But he understood money never bought respect
He build a reputation ’cause he could hustle and steal
But got locked once and didn’t hesitate to squeal
So criminals he chilled with didn’t think he was real
You see me and niggas like this have never been equal
I don’t project my insecurities at other people
He fiended for props like addicts with pipes and needles
So he felt he had to prove to everyone he was evil
A feeble-minded young man with infinite potential
The product of a ghetto breed capitalistic mental
Coincidentally dropped out of school to sell weed
Dancing with the devil, smoked until his eyes would bleed
But he was sick of selling trees and gave in to his greed

[Hook]
Everyone trying to be trife never face the consequences
You probably only did a month for minor offences
Ask a nigga doing life if he had another chance
But then again there’s always the wicked that knew in advance
Dance forever with the devil on a cold cell block
But that’s what happens when you rape, murder and sell rock
Devils used to be gods, angels that fell from the top
There’s no diversity because we’re burning in the melting pot

[Verse 2]
So Billy started robbing niggas, anything he could do
To get his respect back, in the eyes of his crew
Starting fights over little shit, up on the block
Stepped up to selling mothers and brothers the crack rock
Working overtime for making money for the crack spot
Hit the jackpot and wanted to move up to cocaine
fulfilling the scarface fantasy stuck in his brain
Tired of the block niggas treating him the same
He wanted to be major like the cut throats and the thugs
But when he tried to step to ’em, niggas showed him no love
They told him any motherfucking coward can sell drugs
Any bitch nigga with a gun, can bust slugs
Any nigga with a red shirt can front like a blood
Even Puffy smoked a motherfucker up in a club
But only a real thug can stab someone till they die
Standing in front of them, starring straight into their eyes
Billy realized that these men were well guarded
And they wanted to test him, before business started
Suggested raping a bitch to prove he was cold hearted
So now he had a choice between going back to his life
Or making money with made men, up in the cife
His dreams about cars and ice, made him agree
A hardcore nigga is all he ever wanted to be
And so he met them Friday night at a quarter to three

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
They drove around the projects slow while it was raining
Smoking blunts, drinking and joking for entertainment
Until they saw a woman on the street walking alone
Three in the morning, coming back from work, on her way home
And so they quietly got out the car and followed her
Walking through the projects, the darkness swallowed her
They wrapped her shirt around her head and knocked her onto the floor
This is it kid now you got your chance to be raw
So Billy oaked her up and grabbed the chick by the hair
And dragged her into a lobby that had nobody there
She struggled hard but they forced her to go up the stairs
They got to the roof and then held her down on the ground
Screaming shut the fuck up and stop moving around
The shirt covered her face, but she screamed and clawed
So Billy stomped on the bitch, until he had broken her jaw
The dirty bastards knew exactly what they were doing
They kicked her until they cracked her ribs and she stopped moving
Blood leaking through the cloth, she cried silently
And then they all proceeded to rape her violently
Billy was made to go first, but each of them took a turn
Ripping her up, and choking her until her throat burned
A broken jaw mumbled for guards but they weren’t concerned
When they were done and she was lying bloody, broken and bruised
One of them niggas pulled out a brand new twenty-two
They told him that she was a witness of what she’d gone through
And if he killed her he was guaranteed a spot in the crew
He thought about it for a minute, she was practically dead
And so he leaned over and put the gun right to her head

[Sample from “Survival of the Fittest” by Mobb Deep]
I’m falling and I can’t turn back
I’m falling and I can’t turn back

[Verse 4]
Right before he pulled the trigger, and ended her life
He thought about the cocaine with the platinum and ice
And he felt strong standing along with his new brothers
Cocked the gat to her head, and pulled back the shirt cover
But what he saw made him start to cringe and stutter
Cause he was starring into the eyes of his own mother
She looked back at him and cried, cause he had forsaken her
She cried more painfully, than when they were raping her
His whole world stopped, he couldn’t even contemplate
His corruption had successfully changed his fate
And he remembered how his mom used to come home late
Working hard for nothing, cause now what was he worth
He turned away from the woman that had once given him birth
And crying out to the sky cause he was lonely and scared
But only the devil responded, cause god wasn’t there
And right then he knew what it was to be empty and cold
And so he jumped off the roof and died with no soul
They say death takes you to a better place but I doubt it
After that they killed his mother, and never spoke about it
And listen cause the story that I’m telling is true
Cause I was there with Billy Jacobs and I raped his mom too
And now the devil follows me everywhere that I go
In fact I’m sure he’s standing among one of you at my shows
And every street cypher listening to little thugs flow
He could be standing right next to you, and you wouldn’t know
The devil grows inside the hearts of the selfish and wicked
White, brown, yellow and black colored is not restricted
You have a self destructive destiny when your inflicted
And you’ll be one of gods children and fell from the top
There’s no diversity because we’re burning in the melting pot
So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never
Because the dance with the devil might last you forever

xoxo,
Pryanka

Day 23: Allow me to love YOU

Day 22 — Allowing another person to fully love me means I must…

I’m going to preface my “list” with some philosophizing first. I feel as though allowing somebody to love me means that I must first love and accept myself. I don’t think there’s a strict criteria – I’m not putting height, weight, income, etc…into the equation.

  • I must first accept myself. Be happy with who I am so I don’t bog down our relationship with self-loathing
  • Look at the man behind the facts. Eye color, physical attributes, his weight…don’t matter.
  • Know that he will fit into my family and not just my own life. So I must first know he is Indian, Hindu, raised with the same family values as I was. Speaking Hindi is a bonus. There’s just something so beautiful and touching to be able to call him jaan when he wakes up. Something ethereal in whispering sweet nothings in a language you both understand. Sometimes, English is too rough.
  • Learn to live with him. It’s all about adaptation, compromise, and making the best of what you’ve got. Whether prince or pauper, he’s the King of my heart, the man I will love.
  • Learn to be less clingy, and play hard to get. For some reason, men only want it when they can’t have it. The chase, so to speak. I must learn to be an enticing chase.
  • Be open and honest. Understand that no man will ever be perfect, and accept him for who he is. An imperfect couple is the best kind, because there is always something to work at, to understand.
xoxo,

Pryanka

List of rules and questions is here

Please take a moment to check out the other wonderful blogs participating in 30 days of Blogging Honesty with me!

Day 22: The Pros and Cons of Loving Pryanka

Day 22 — Allowing another person to fully love me means they must…

My mommy starts her first day at a new job in the morning, so everybody who reads this has automatically wished her luck ❤ Moving on, the questions for Day 22 and 23 were rather difficult. I suppose I should be grateful they were asked on a weekend but this weekend I was MAD busy. I had my LSAT Prep Course this weekend, and it took up quite a long time!

For another person to fully love me, he must

  • Know and accept my past. The good parts and the bad parts.
  • Understand and at the very least, respect my view of online relationships and the power of online socialization. My first “boyfriend” was online. I made some very strong friendships over the years.
  • Allow me my nail polish addiction. I promise not to waste his money on it though!
  • I’m clingy. He has to not get irritated or shut me off. I want to be there for him, but I always end up crossing the line and just like….being there too much, if that makes sense? Like if you don’t feel good, talk to me. So if he loves me, he’ll understand my need to sort things out face to face
  • Never end an argument with the cold shoulder. If we fight, that’s fine, but no childish arguments that involve us not talking to each other for days.
  • Enjoy talking to me on Skype or over the phone. IDK if we don’t text much, but good morning phone calls are the best
  • Enjoy cuddling me
  • Never try to buy me off with money. I want him, not his money
  • Be faithful. Period.
But even though I’m making you a list, I don’t believe that I need any sort of criteria for how a man can love me. If he loves me and I’m with him, that must mean he is doing something right. And if he is doing something right, then I will know that he loves me and we will continue to stay together.
(: I don’t quite understand how I can make demands from a man. There are only the basics – faithfulness being the jist of it. After that, only he will know how to love me, because he will understand me better than myself. He’ll know what I need. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t love me, right?

xoxo,
Pryanka

List of rules and questions is here

Please take a moment to check out the other wonderful blogs participating in 30 days of Blogging Honesty with me!

Dear Carolyn,

You complained I didn’t mention you in my blog, and I suppose recently, I haven’t explicitly dedicated anything to you, right?

Well then my darling, here you go. You get a whole entire post dedicated to you. Enjoy it. It will be cheesy and sappy and over-the-top. It might make the male gender gag a little bit. Hehe.

I don’t even know where to start when I write to you. If this was a yearbook entry, it would have teardrop stains on it already because a future without you as my roommate makes me want to cry.

I can say with pride and joy that you were the first friend I made at New York University. By that extenson, you were the first one who really saw the “new” me. Of course my high school friends knew me, but the change isn’t as drastic when you grow up with the friends, you know what I mean? But you met the new me and you accepted me and somehow, you liked me and we hit it off! And an amazing friendship was born.

You know how I mentioned kindred souls….lifetime friends. You are one of them. You are a friend for life – beyond college, beyond New York, and beyond even our career paths. Nothing can tear us apart, and I’ve grown to consider you one of the few people I know I can trust with my life. From the first moment we met each other and our eyes met in that elevator ride down to the lobby of Founders Hall (Which didn’t even have a name then) to begin our summer orientation session. Sure we’d spoken on FB a little bit before that and spoken online, but I was so scared that you wouldn’t like me when you met me. But you accepted me, flaws and all, and from that first awkward conversation to now, three years later, you’ve been one of the most amazing friends I could ask for.

I don’t even have words to explain myself. I’m at a loss…how can somebody fit into a limiting vocabulary the extensive emotions I feel? Emotions cannot ever be fully penned down, so just know that without your friendship to count on, I wouldn’t be the person I am. Without having your dorm room to crash in freshman year, I wouldn’t have even met Sara or Misha. Without having met Sara, I probably never would have met Christine? Or maybe other circumstances would have brought us together but honestly, who knows? I will just let you know though….we were destined to be roommates ❤ It may have been three and a half years in the making, but it was worth it. You and Misha made this semester unforgettable!

After this (college) though, I can’t help but tear up when I imagine how our lives are going to unfold. What will happen? Where will we all be? I don’t know, and it kills me. You’re coming to my wedding no matter what, no matter where. And I to yours. This is the kind of friendship that lasts and you’re the kind of person that…brightens and livens up everybody else’s day. I am PRIVILEGED to be your friend because you’re an amazing person. You’re a complete sweetheart, and the best kind of friend ever. You never judge, you trust and you listen and you’re right there when I need to rant. You even laugh when I try to make jokes and that makes me feel pretty cool too. You bring out the best in everybody around you and you seriously brighten our room up.

Watching you watch Tom and Jerry while eating….or coming home to a home that smells like sesame oil….these are just snapshots of the semester that I will never forget. Baking with you, devouring the Oreo truffles you made us, and even the late night roommate bonding outings and movies and talks…I’ll never forget them. Also the nail polish – you put up with my obsession, embraced it, and totally adopted it as your own. Without you and Misha to do my nails with, it just wouldn’t be the same.

You put up with my crazy and you still love me despite it.

You are spectacular. I love you. Totally homo 😉

 

xoxo,
Pryanka