Friday, April 28, 2006

"holla!"

1.)a term used to try and talk or try and "hook-up" with a female.
Ex. "Ey mama can i HOLLA atchu fa a minute"
source: http://www.urbandictionary.com/

Dear Male Readers,

Here is a word of advice: do not “holla,” under any circumstances. I don’t care if Kanye, Pharell, the Ying Yang Twins or “25 cent” does it. You’re not in a rap video and neither are the girls you “holla” at. Zero times out of 10 will a lady respond to that (unless of course, you are trying to attract Lo-Lo from the street corner). Time and time again have I seen you out in the city, trying to get the attention of women, shouting, “hey!” HEY is for horses. Seriously. Chances are you’re not going to wrangle a girl in off the streets. If you see a potential out and about, try making eye contact, if she looks at you try smiling. If she sticks around after that then she might think you’re cute. Then, and ONLY then do you approach her. At that point you can say “Hi.” If she smiles, you’re IN. If she looks up and turns away you probably don’t have a chance. Get over it.

Read very carefully. In fact, copy and paste this baby to your desktop: 1) a look can say a thousand words. If you’re out somewhere in the “scene,” you see a cute little thing and you’re unsure of what to say, then don’t say anything at all. And don’t linger around her like some creepy fungus that has nowhere to go. Do your own thing. If she likes you, she’ll remain in your vicinity. More often than not your gut will tell you if a girl is interested. Things like body language, eye contact, inquisitive responses – these are signals that she’s digging you. Remember: A look and a smile. Try it a few times, it builds suspense…and then make your way over. 2) Confidence is everything. Be true to yourself, always. Don’t try and be the suave guy if you’re a goofy guy. And don’t force yourself to be funny if you’re shy and reserved. We all have a thing for the strong-silent type as we do for the class clown. Be confident with who you are because it, and lack of, always exudes. 3) Wit and humor can go a long way. All girls adore a sincere guy who can make her smile. But there’s a fine line between funny and obnoxious. One way to refrain from the latter is not to get wasted. Stay composed and aware of the words that are coming out of your mouth. There’s nothing worse than a sloppy, drunk dude trying to kick game. And don't be too cocky; major turnoff.

Oh and one final, very important note: DON’T EVER touch a girl you don’t know. Please don’t try and grab her arm when she walks by. And don’t sneak up behind her on the dance floor either. A defense mechanism immediately triggers in females, which results in automatic failure on your part.

My experiences being single in New York City thus far have been mixed, but mostly positive. Since I’m not inclined to respond kindly to random guys just about anywhere at this point in my life, I’m always the observer. And what an amusing role it is.

Good luck gentlemen. May the force be with you.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

At Home and Alone

No roommates. Just me and Miles jamming on a Thursday night in 5A. A glass of Riesling by my side and some Gouda is perfection. I forgot what it felt like to be home alone all night. A nice excuse to get romantic with myself. Light some candles and sandalwood incense. Sit around in my underwear or plaster my face with a papaya mask. Sing at the top of my lungs to Fiona or lay somberly on the red futon til I fall asleep, book in hand. An overflowing sack of laundry hanging on the back of my bedroom door taunts me. But that’s not very romantic is it?

I love times like this. It gives me space to stretch out, mind and body, in my tiny (tiny) haven in this restless city.

(A thought sent to me today): "Our primary relationship in life is with our selves. No one else goes through every experience in life with us. We are our one permanent companion. We are constantly looking at the world, instead of looking at ourselves, we don't often see what's magnificent about ourselves that others do. When we take the time to experience ourselves the way we would experience someone we love and admire, we become our best companion and supporter on life's journey."

Saturday, April 22, 2006

We exchange words and have no idea the weight they carry. People speak without thinking one hundred times a day. Once said, it’s out there, you made the impression, no getting it back. Recently I’ve been expressing my personal thoughts less and less, verbally that is. I’ve been learning that expressing myself aloud benefits no one, especially not me. That’s why I prefer writing. The amount of time it takes for your thoughts to reach your hand, then signal your hand to write, then send it back to your brain as you mentally recite and write simultaneously – that time is more vast. It is stretched. That time allows for reflection, as brief as it might be.

True, there are times when the impulsive way can be valuable and insightful, but how much can that really mean? So many times do we regret the words we blurt out or actions we take driven by pure emotion. Writing gives the ability to make a decision. It helps to translate the thoughts that hurt us, beg us and delight us. They all deserve to have a voice. I just choose to write because I find when I speak, I don’t feel as much movement. I also feel less logical. I can talk and talk for hours (and I have) trying to make a point and never feel fully satisfied with my explanation or claim. But I can write one impeccable and saturated sentence that gives me peace.

It used to be that I could write safely and solely for myself. Uninhibited I was, in my room with my pen and paper. Mounds of journals spanning 15 years, never read by another soul. Now, I am more selective because I know people are reading my thoughts. Somehow I feel I might be cheating readers and myself. I’m sure it would be liberating to just put it all out there. Afterall, what good are thoughts if they have no destination?

Friday, April 21, 2006

Mirror, Mirror

A lounge is a lounge. There is only so much you can say about the latest hot spot before it fades away into the minds of city socialites. We are always looking for the new fad and savvy clubowners are receptive to that.

A long, narrow space, Glass Lounge provides a sleek setting and a small, yet suitable patio in the back. Though barely enough space to dance it is inevitable because the blend of hip-hop and oldschool begs patrons to do so. Drink prices are standard New York and the crowd is classy and can lean more toward the brown side on certain nights.

You must be wondering, "well, what's so different about this place?" Aside from just being a new and different scene, Glass Lounge has an interesting mirror scheme going on. Once you make it to the front of the (often slow moving) line for the unisex bathroom you will notice a long horizontal mirror. As you wash your hands and check yourself out in the mirror you won't see what is on the other side...10th Ave. But those walking along 10th Ave can see what's going on, on your side. That's right. As you innocently adjust your make up or smooth down your hair, "Harry the Bum" is peering in at you. A little creepy? Yea, I think so. Nevertheless, Glass Lounge is...a lounge. They play good music and the crowd is relatively cool. Just don't forget to wash your hands when you leave the bathroom...someone might be watching...

Glass Lounge
287 10th avenue New York, NY 10001
http://www.glassloungenyc.com/
cha·os (ka'os')
n.
1. A condition or place of great disorder or confusion.
2. A disorderly mass; a jumble
3. often Chaos The disordered state of unformed matter and infinite space supposed in some cosmogonic views to have existed before the ordered universe.
4. see also Rakhee's life (at the moment)

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Home Hiatus

The past few days have been exciting and emotional. Over the weekend one of my best childhood friends, Nandini, was married to a great guy named Amit. They've been together for eight years and finally tied the knot on April 15, 2006 at Union Station in Washington D.C. (my hometown). If you were anywhere in the vicinity of Union Station I'm sure you heard about it. It was quite the spectacle! I was one of 10 bridesmaids! All of the events leading up to, and including the ceremony and reception, were incredibly fun and festive. By far one of the most unique Hindu weddings I've been to.

When I return to New York I will give a more detailed description of the events, culture and meaning behind the ceremony.

Just wanted readers to know I'll be posting something new shortly. So check back soon!

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Isn't it funny that a country which declared itself a place where "all men are created equal" over 200 years ago still battles with Civil Rights today? Even more interesting is the fact that the United States was built off of the blood and sweat of immigrants and still thrives off of the practically free and often inhumane labor of these same freedom seekers.

This past Monday, thousands of immigrants rallied on the mall in Washington DC, along with others in various cities around the country including New York City. The masses fiercely objected the potential law which will essentially reduce and make immigration to the U.S. much more difficult. Some have referred to it as the Hispanic Civil Rights movement. To me it represents the entire population of immigrants: past, present and future. Though I come from a family of non-American-born citizens I have never taken this issue into much consideration. But when I think of my family, along with the hundreds of thousands of others, that came here and paved the way for their children, who are now huge intellectual and powerful resources for this country, I can't quite understand the need for further restriction. It almost feels like biting the hand that feeds you. Afterall, who works our farms, constructs and cleans our buildings, and assmebles all of our frivolous material needs?

Sometimes it still blows my mind that the Civil Rights Bill was passed only 40 years ago. Up until 40 years ago we had segregated schools and a part of our population wasn't even allowed to vote! 'Slowly' seems to be the pace and 'surely' is the hope -- but we indefintely have a long and winding road ahead of us.

Read the whole article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/11/us/11immig.html?ex=1144987200&en=3658f0b9ffb8fc6b&ei=5087%0A

Friday, April 07, 2006

Jesus and Judas


Religion has always intrigued me. I distinctly remember playing in my backyard at the age of 9, with my friend Megen (the daughter of a preacher), "You're going to hell" she said. I asked why and she responded with the words of her Father, "Because you don't believe in Jesus Christ. So when judgment day comes the world is going to blow up and Jesus will take all the Christians to Heaven and the rest will burn in hell." I didn't cry or run to a church in fear for my life. I calmly went to my mother and asked if this was true, "You tell her and her family we don't believe in hell," my Mother explained. It was smooth sailing after that. No hell for me.

I find it fascinating that a great majority of the world live according to scriptures and ancient laws, without question. Religions have been passed down for centuries, through unknown hands, twisted and tainted by institutions and theorists. How could you possibly take it for face value? The fact is, it's all interpretation. I believe that what we follow today is scarcley true to the intententions of the original religious movements. I mean, have you ever heard of the game "telephone"?

A recent discovery was made in Egypt that could potentially turn "fact" into fiction. A scripture was uncovered, about Jesus and Judas, implying that the 'ultimate betrayal' was more of an agreement between the two friends. Yesterday's article in The New York Times said:

The account goes on to relate that Jesus refers to the other disciples, telling Judas "you will exceed all of them. For you will sacrifice the man that clothes me." By that, scholars familiar with Gnostic thinking said, Jesus meant that by helping him get rid of his physical flesh, Judas will act to liberate the true spiritual self or divine being within Jesus.

Another piece of the puzzle I suppose...but even if Jesus himself came back to earth, and told us the Church was all a sham, who knows if we'd believe him.

Read the whole article, go to http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/06/science/06cnd-judas.html?ex=1144555200&en=d59683ca1c4d906d&ei=5087

Thursday, April 06, 2006

The Great Anchor

Family is The Great Anchor, dropped in a place between fortitude and repose. It transcends distance and time, creating an infinite binding. Hate or love, but never indifference. They leave us and cause us heartache or they stay and cause us grief, whichever case applies to you, you know that beyond the lore there lies a certainty and link. It is the one thing we all share; no matter what kind of family you come from you can't escape it, nor can they escape you. I have seen families, perfectly comprised of bright summer vacations and unified meals at the dinner table. I used to be envious. Many times have I tried to direct myself on a different path, leading me away from where I came. I had this idea in my head about what I didn't want to be and I used that as my guide. I would think, 'I'm going to have a bigger, better house. I'm going to have a good marriage and never argue in front of my children.' I was naïve to think parents were anything more than human. They raised me with abounding affection however, disillusioned at an early age, I developed resentment. As I grow older I see the strength in them that I have never seen in any other person. I can never blame them for my occasional bouts of anger and sadness though they are often the cause. I can never blame them because everything they have ever done has contributed to who I am. I cannot doubt the pride they take in me, or the esteem they've taught me to have for myself. This is priceless, and cannot be diminished by any amount of heartache or grief. I believe one of the greatest challenges in life is to wholeheartedly care for others and put them before yourself. I'm still learning and striving for this, but I've been blessed with having received it my entire life. My hope is that one day I can do as good a job raising my own family, as mine did raising me.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Take Me To Paris!


Je veux aller à Paris au printemps! Je veux me réveiller dans un lit se noyant en feuilles blanches et jeter les portes françaises ouvertes qui effectuent à un balcon de fer, garni de l'iris jaune et bleu. Je veux à où une robe de Dior de cru des années 50 et un espresso de boissons dans un café de manière de ruelle. Je veux diner chaque nuit sur le vin parisien et les repas surestimés. Mais non seulement cela, je veux roman à Paris!

Paris in the spring...I've been dreaming about it.

Monday, April 03, 2006

Daughters


Love has come full circle since our Mother’s were born. In India -- and in my family's case, Uganda -- "love" was so simple for a woman to find, because it wasn’t really an option. It was a different kind of love; the kind that develops as a result of preconceived circumstance. It worked backward for us since the beginning: you love the person you marry, not marry the person you love. After migrating to western countries like America and England, second generation daughters have come to realize that you can find a best friend, a partner, and a lover all in one person, and that you don’t have to love anyone you don’t choose to. So, daughters began choosing whomever they wanted, and the prospects widened and varied with time. Now, it wasn’t just a lover, a partner and a friend; he had to be a Hindu or a Christian, vote Democratic, go to the gym 3 days a week, laugh at our jokes, make six figures, share the same tastes in art and music, want to settle in Virginia and agree to weekly dinners with friends. The choices ever-expanded, which in turn made it impossible to find the "perfect" mate. And this is our curse. Us, twenty-to-thirty-something, confused, American born, Indian women. We don’t marry for the same reasons our Mother’s did, we look to wholly satisfy ourselves, and to the point that we remain dissatisfied. Dating brown men, white men, black men…what is most important, religion, family, skin tone, status? Is good sex more desirable than a common culture? Do we win the man over or does the man win us over? It is a constant revolution with our sex, there is always something to prove and we certainly have no problems keeping up. But it seems to come with a sacrifice. As we progress as individuals, we digress as partners. We become less willing to conform to another person and it seems to only get more difficult with age. I’ve been told more and more lately, (to my dismay) that love should no longer be a priority, because “romance fades". I keep hearing that it is more fruitful to find a decent man who shares the same values and cultural beliefs, rather than seeking out someone you're merely attracted to or intrigued by. So, really, are we not running in the same race our Mother’s ran? To first, find a caring partner we can build a sustainable future with and then, if there happens to be true love mixed in, well, that's just peachy.

As second generation, Indian women, we've been given the grand opportunity to advance in the world alongside any man, something our Grandmothers never dreamed possible. At the same time, we are expected to maintain and pass on our heritage. So, as we continue to weigh our plethora of options we must take into consideration the legacy we want to leave behind and the path we tread for those to come. But what most of us want, and rarely announce, is "Everything." That's right men, we want it All, A-L-L. And though we might deserve it, is it what we really need? In the wise words of the emaciated, yet stylish Mick Jagger, "you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."

She Has Arrived

9:08 am, Saturday, April 1
“Good morning,” I wake up to a Chihuahua named Zoe in West New York, NJ after a night of dance practice. I grab a ferry back home to Manhattan. Boyscouts and families race to the top deck to catch the best glimpse of the city skyline. It never gets old. Even after 7 months the sight still causes a stir. I arrive in full force at 38th Street Seaport and grab a cab. The sun reflects off of the buildings, and they shutter up and down like an equalizer on a stereo as we speed uptown.

11:15am
I head to Whistle on the lower east side (273 E. 10th St., 212-447-0631) for a cut and color. Whistle clientele consists of reformed rock stars, hipsters and locals alike. And Heidi is my favorite little blade maestro there (though I must say, Will and Lee are also amazing). Her girl-next-door disposition misconstrues her punk-rocked-tattooed exterior, but most important, she is by far the best stylist to ever lay hands on my head. 2 hours and 50 minutes later I leave with soft caramel tresses though undeniably broke. Perhaps I won’t eat out for the next two weeks. But lack of money cannot overshadow the satisfaction of a successful transition. All it needs now is a suitable outfit. How will I justify this to my bank account? I blame it on the coercive weather.

11:20pm
I trek down to the lower east side once again, with my driver Beygardh, who sings to me in a language I don’t understand. But I receive the serenade as a compliment and thank him as I exit the cab. He smiles and says "have fun pretty Lady!" (it must be the hair ;-) Mannahatta (yes, it's spelled that way http://www.mannahatta.us/) is the spot and inside awaits a table with a familiar face. Mojitos are the choice of poison for the night and if you can handle them a little on the strong side, Mannahatta serves up some excellent ones! Although, I must say, old friends are the best refreshment and buzz of all. We laugh as though we’re 9th grade school girls again fawning over the seniors in the cafeteria, as we giggle at the Adonis by the door. But this isn't high school and the Adonis actually noticed us noticing him and is coming our way! What do we do? “Hi," he says. I fail to look interested. The thought of it was more fun than the real interaction. Back to my mojito and high school relapse. The basement of Mannahatta is an over-crowded excuse for a club with a shotty speaker system that had my ears ringing the entire next day. I suggest staying upstairs where the ambiance is chill and cozy. Otherwise try and get your dancing in early when the crowd is less drunk and sweaty.

12:00pm, Sunday, April 2
Rise and shine. It’s spring forward. I whine internally, I remember we lose a hour but that soon fades when I realize there is a extra hour of sunlight. After returning from brunch (on the LES, AGAIN), my roommate and I turn the phrase ‘'spring cleaning’' into a military command. We gear up with rubber gloves, paper towels, comet, 409, a swiffer and attack. Residue is wiped away. Dust gathering in hidden crevices and under the bed disappear. Unwanted nic-nacs and over-read magazines are thrown out. Fresh and fragrant laundry is folded and put away.

6:30pm
It’s still light outside. I go for another walk around Lincoln Center. The streets are busy as usual and the sidewalks seem to be half the size with seating spilling out from restaurants and cafes, begging you to sit down for a pitcher of Sangria or imported beer. It’s been a long time coming but Spring is finally here! Goodbye Uggz, scarves and down coats! Time for medallion sandals, boy shorts and dresses! She has surely arrived.

Afterthought anyone?
One of my favorite British Romantics, John Keats, often paralleled the changing of seasons to that of man. He defined the extremities as a gage for understanding ourselves. How can we know love without hate? How can we appreciate beauty without the ugly? Constancy is stagnancy. I’m sure it was the bitter cold Winter that has allowed me to truly relish in the joys of Spring. Seasons have always brought me a feeling of newness in many different ways. I hope you delight in the new burst of warmth, and the pleasantries that it brings, as much as I do. Enjoy.