An essay gave me diarrhea.
Two days ago i forced out a violently crappy piece of, well, writing. Pungently terrible writing. In fact "writing" is too strong a word, more precisely, a muddy puddle of words dribbled out of me in slow, toxic spurts. I "wrote" for most of the night. When i woke up i had some loose ends to...who am i kidding, i was cranking out that sick pile in between trips to the bathroom. Typing for a few minutes, then obeying my bowels.
How could i have made myself sick over a "Death of a Salesman" essay?I knew this material inside and out, i mean i won my damn debate didn't i?
After my butt stopped grumbling i realized, gee whiz, i'm a pretty shitty writer...good for a laugh, i guess, but how am i gonna support my family with that? I'm going to a pseudo-college, with a plastic major, for a syntheitc career. Damn, what am i doing here?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Something Cool (working title)
A-hap-py birth-day, A-hap-py brith-day...
All i want for today is rain, so make it happen God.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Byecycle Blues
My palms were white-knuckled oceans of sweat. The back of my legs were a population of gashes and scrapes. And my fanny was, and still is, sorer than a freshly raped anus. But in spite of my battle scars i'm finding it hard not to smile. You would too if you had just learned how to ride a bike...except you wouldn't because you do know how. Everyone does. But until yesterday i was still a two-wheeled virgin veering off into gutters and parked cars.
The moment I got on the bike i figured it would be the same though. I would hoist my awkward mass onto the unsuspecting seat, wobble for four seconds, curse, and then quit. But Anaoshak wouldn't let me quit. The only thing he would let me do is peddle. "Just peddle, you can't fall if you just keep peddling," haha...if only someone had forced me to just keep peddling when I was growing up. (The transition from trike to bike is a liminal journey, one that affects how a child views setbacks. Recovering from my biking wounds has taken much longer than the average human.)
There are few things still left in the world that make me giddy with child glee, and bike riding is one of them. I wanted to take a faded Polaroid with my helmet on, smiling an innocently wide-eyed grin...like a tiny hand print in clay. I've been saying goodbye alot these days...it feels comforting to say goodbye to something i'm glad is gone. Thanks anaoshak, the fanny was for you.
The moment I got on the bike i figured it would be the same though. I would hoist my awkward mass onto the unsuspecting seat, wobble for four seconds, curse, and then quit. But Anaoshak wouldn't let me quit. The only thing he would let me do is peddle. "Just peddle, you can't fall if you just keep peddling," haha...if only someone had forced me to just keep peddling when I was growing up. (The transition from trike to bike is a liminal journey, one that affects how a child views setbacks. Recovering from my biking wounds has taken much longer than the average human.)
There are few things still left in the world that make me giddy with child glee, and bike riding is one of them. I wanted to take a faded Polaroid with my helmet on, smiling an innocently wide-eyed grin...like a tiny hand print in clay. I've been saying goodbye alot these days...it feels comforting to say goodbye to something i'm glad is gone. Thanks anaoshak, the fanny was for you.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Happy Anniversary
Disclaimer: This was for me and to remind myself of who i am. I have this weird habit of writing for a certain person, a specific audience to entertain with my cleverness. I'm writing for me. This post is confusing, pretentious, and will be judged...Enjoy.
I am happy at times. I smile, queue laughter. Words are spoken to me and I respond with words in kind.
I am shallow. I judge things that others have no control over. I punish myself, judging things I have no control over.
I am passive. I repeat words that do not belong to me, constantly. Words bring me close to others. Shared words.
I am alone. I listen, say little. Words only escape through song. The words are about me, my life, my problems, my happiness. I am selfish. I make them about me; warp them to satisfy a need for attention. I hear "we" and it hurts. I am not we.
Humans lack the ability to truly understand one another. This is proof. But that's ok...I'm here to help sort it out.
I am not what I am, an assortment of maladroit emotions, but rather, what I have. Precious things like moodswings, magnificent shifts in perspective. Memories. Dogs, and the selfless act of caring for a living thing that is dependent on your love. My sense of humor, a series of flimsy sutures suppressing childhood hemorrhages. The strength to rise. I have sarcasm to take the edge off, like two advil's. Unconditional love from my creators, mom and dad. humility. Potential to change. And then there's you...do i even have to mention you guys. I may hate what i am, but by god, i love what i have...
This was for me and to remind myself of who i am. I have this weird habit of writing for a certain person, to entertain them with my cleverness. I'm writing for me.
This year it was better.
I am happy at times. I smile, queue laughter. Words are spoken to me and I respond with words in kind.
I am shallow. I judge things that others have no control over. I punish myself, judging things I have no control over.
I am passive. I repeat words that do not belong to me, constantly. Words bring me close to others. Shared words.
I am alone. I listen, say little. Words only escape through song. The words are about me, my life, my problems, my happiness. I am selfish. I make them about me; warp them to satisfy a need for attention. I hear "we" and it hurts. I am not we.
Humans lack the ability to truly understand one another. This is proof. But that's ok...I'm here to help sort it out.
I am not what I am, an assortment of maladroit emotions, but rather, what I have. Precious things like moodswings, magnificent shifts in perspective. Memories. Dogs, and the selfless act of caring for a living thing that is dependent on your love. My sense of humor, a series of flimsy sutures suppressing childhood hemorrhages. The strength to rise. I have sarcasm to take the edge off, like two advil's. Unconditional love from my creators, mom and dad. humility. Potential to change. And then there's you...do i even have to mention you guys. I may hate what i am, but by god, i love what i have...
This was for me and to remind myself of who i am. I have this weird habit of writing for a certain person, to entertain them with my cleverness. I'm writing for me.
This year it was better.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Still here.
I was in bed...ready for sleep...but nothing happened...it's been about two hours and I can't stand it.
So here I am.
If you had a floor-plan of my house you would know that my computer is located in the kitchen. This means that I would have to trek all the way from my bed...down the hallway...passed the living room (stepping on every damn toy kyden decided to leave sprawled out on the floor...like shiny, plastic mines. One plushy plaything even started giggling as i accidentally mashed my foot into his torso)...and through the dining room.
Yes, I did all of this just so I could tell you I'm lonely...I'm lonely and I can't fall asleep. Not sad, balling, hyperventilating loneliness, just a craving for someone to lay beside me...a teddy human. The feeling reminds me of when i was little and my mom would sit on the toilet seat as i showered. I had just earned the right to shower alone--no bath, no brother, no ducky, and no mommy--but, alas, mommy was there. Everything was going smoothly...I lathered my hair, stuck my head under the water, and, suddenly, everything went black. The second I closed my eyes Chucky, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and Michael Meyers (think Halloween, not Austen Powers) were all waiting outside my shower curtain, calling dibs on my assorted body parts. It was like a horror movie monsters tea party had burst from my imagination and into my parent's master bath...so I did what any traumatized child would do: I shrieked,"mmmMMMOOOOOOoomm!," inhale,"mmmMOOOOOOoomm." In came mommy, faster than you can say "Freddy vs. Jason." She promised to stay with me until i had finished counting to one hundred (how else would I know when to stop rinsing my hair?).
Every ten seconds or so I would quietly ask:
"Still there?"
to which she'd reply softly:
"Still here."
...Ironically, my mom isn't home tonight. Not that i would be crawling into her bed or falling asleep to her stroking my hair as she sits uncomfortably in my plastic Ikea chair but...i crave her "goodnight." But mainly i crave a goodnight from any loved one at this moment...so goodnight friends.
hahaha...life is as funny as it is random, goodnight raghav.
So here I am.
If you had a floor-plan of my house you would know that my computer is located in the kitchen. This means that I would have to trek all the way from my bed...down the hallway...passed the living room (stepping on every damn toy kyden decided to leave sprawled out on the floor...like shiny, plastic mines. One plushy plaything even started giggling as i accidentally mashed my foot into his torso)...and through the dining room.
Yes, I did all of this just so I could tell you I'm lonely...I'm lonely and I can't fall asleep. Not sad, balling, hyperventilating loneliness, just a craving for someone to lay beside me...a teddy human. The feeling reminds me of when i was little and my mom would sit on the toilet seat as i showered. I had just earned the right to shower alone--no bath, no brother, no ducky, and no mommy--but, alas, mommy was there. Everything was going smoothly...I lathered my hair, stuck my head under the water, and, suddenly, everything went black. The second I closed my eyes Chucky, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and Michael Meyers (think Halloween, not Austen Powers) were all waiting outside my shower curtain, calling dibs on my assorted body parts. It was like a horror movie monsters tea party had burst from my imagination and into my parent's master bath...so I did what any traumatized child would do: I shrieked,"mmmMMMOOOOOOoomm!," inhale,"mmmMOOOOOOoomm." In came mommy, faster than you can say "Freddy vs. Jason." She promised to stay with me until i had finished counting to one hundred (how else would I know when to stop rinsing my hair?).
Every ten seconds or so I would quietly ask:
"Still there?"
to which she'd reply softly:
"Still here."
...Ironically, my mom isn't home tonight. Not that i would be crawling into her bed or falling asleep to her stroking my hair as she sits uncomfortably in my plastic Ikea chair but...i crave her "goodnight." But mainly i crave a goodnight from any loved one at this moment...so goodnight friends.
hahaha...life is as funny as it is random, goodnight raghav.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Wisdom Teeth
I graduated.
This was supposed to be the most important day of my life...so why was i in a pale yellow dentist chair clutching a clear plastic tube with the sole purpose of sucking pineapple flavored gunk from my mouth.
The trip to the dentist didn't seem special. It was like any other visit...the oral technician sands my teeth....next, she attempts to floss my gums...the bleeding stops...then the shrapnel-like instrument to check for cavities...more scraping...my choice of fluoride flavoring, its subsequent removal...and Dr. Okawachi strolls by to check my progress first hand. Like clock work...
"Hey mr. vince."
From gums to wisdom teeth, I was mr. vince. Call my life-long dentist uncreative, I loved the nickname because, as a child, it inspired maturity. It said i was too old for "Vincent" (just like Dave was too old for "David"), plus I could be married. And as my tooth count reached the thirties, the nickname's connotation became childish. Not in a demeaning way, but in a more youthful sense.
We continue with our usual small talk. Where are you going next year? What's Peter up to? When's Natalie's baby gonna visit me?...I loved hearing Dr. Okawachi talk. He was medium sized Japanese man with bright, smiling eyes. They really did grin, as if he brushed them with Crest. His voice was particularly inviting too, but with a patronizing inflection. An extensive career with children had blessed him with a soothing tone, like anaesthesia. But to anyone past the age of fifteen he came across sounding like a muppet or LeVar Burton.
The lightness of our banter became progressively heavier...and then it stopped altogether.
"Well mr. vince, it looks likes this will be your last visit. You're graduating."
......Graduating? But i was only seventeen. My sister had been twenty one before she had been barred from Dr. Okawachi's dental office. I imagined her being escorted from the premises by a squad of muscular oral technicians in uniforms with the words "braces brigade" or "plaque patrol" stitched into their breast pockets.
At least for my high school graduation i had prepared by sleeping in the backroom during cluster. Preparing for a life of waking up to my ipod alone...but this...this i hadn't prepared for at all...i was blind-sided.
I finally responded with a mumbled "wow," with a "look how time flies" smile. We walked over to the appointment desk. Dr. Okawachi pronounced i was cavity-free and dropped the graduation bombshell. This sent a few ripples through my mom, she had also not expected this finality. He handed her a card with a new address and a small map etched on its front, explaining that the office was being moved...for the second time in the span of two minutes i was attempting to hide my dismay. "We need a bigger space," was his response...apparently i had asked him, "Why move?"
I scanned everything in that crowded office with the intent of sucking it into my brain. The posters Cavity-Free Kids took their picture in front of to commemorate their achievement were stored somewhere in my head. (I always chose the Bugs Bunny poster...and by always i mean the one time both my mom and i left the office smiling. The superman poster said I'm over-compensating for something, while astronaut mickey was for the toddler crowd.) The deep purple contours of the treasure chest every patient rifled through after a visit also shoved their way into my memory like a stubborn snaggletooth. (It was filled with all sorts of trinkets...my personal favorite was the gargantuan sticky hands that mutated into globs of gooey dirt after a day's use, which were also excellent for smacking siblings within a three foot radius.)
God, I wasn't ready to leave. A few minutes went by after i realized while i was gawking at my dental childhood my mom was asking when to bring Kyden, my nephew, for his first visit. Dr. Okawachi explained he was eager to see his first patient's first born. Kyden will be the beginning. I am the ending...it's surreal to be the ending. This thought made me smile...
This was supposed to be the most important day of my life...so why was i in a pale yellow dentist chair clutching a clear plastic tube with the sole purpose of sucking pineapple flavored gunk from my mouth.
The trip to the dentist didn't seem special. It was like any other visit...the oral technician sands my teeth....next, she attempts to floss my gums...the bleeding stops...then the shrapnel-like instrument to check for cavities...more scraping...my choice of fluoride flavoring, its subsequent removal...and Dr. Okawachi strolls by to check my progress first hand. Like clock work...
"Hey mr. vince."
From gums to wisdom teeth, I was mr. vince. Call my life-long dentist uncreative, I loved the nickname because, as a child, it inspired maturity. It said i was too old for "Vincent" (just like Dave was too old for "David"), plus I could be married. And as my tooth count reached the thirties, the nickname's connotation became childish. Not in a demeaning way, but in a more youthful sense.
We continue with our usual small talk. Where are you going next year? What's Peter up to? When's Natalie's baby gonna visit me?...I loved hearing Dr. Okawachi talk. He was medium sized Japanese man with bright, smiling eyes. They really did grin, as if he brushed them with Crest. His voice was particularly inviting too, but with a patronizing inflection. An extensive career with children had blessed him with a soothing tone, like anaesthesia. But to anyone past the age of fifteen he came across sounding like a muppet or LeVar Burton.
The lightness of our banter became progressively heavier...and then it stopped altogether.
"Well mr. vince, it looks likes this will be your last visit. You're graduating."
......Graduating? But i was only seventeen. My sister had been twenty one before she had been barred from Dr. Okawachi's dental office. I imagined her being escorted from the premises by a squad of muscular oral technicians in uniforms with the words "braces brigade" or "plaque patrol" stitched into their breast pockets.
At least for my high school graduation i had prepared by sleeping in the backroom during cluster. Preparing for a life of waking up to my ipod alone...but this...this i hadn't prepared for at all...i was blind-sided.
I finally responded with a mumbled "wow," with a "look how time flies" smile. We walked over to the appointment desk. Dr. Okawachi pronounced i was cavity-free and dropped the graduation bombshell. This sent a few ripples through my mom, she had also not expected this finality. He handed her a card with a new address and a small map etched on its front, explaining that the office was being moved...for the second time in the span of two minutes i was attempting to hide my dismay. "We need a bigger space," was his response...apparently i had asked him, "Why move?"
I scanned everything in that crowded office with the intent of sucking it into my brain. The posters Cavity-Free Kids took their picture in front of to commemorate their achievement were stored somewhere in my head. (I always chose the Bugs Bunny poster...and by always i mean the one time both my mom and i left the office smiling. The superman poster said I'm over-compensating for something, while astronaut mickey was for the toddler crowd.) The deep purple contours of the treasure chest every patient rifled through after a visit also shoved their way into my memory like a stubborn snaggletooth. (It was filled with all sorts of trinkets...my personal favorite was the gargantuan sticky hands that mutated into globs of gooey dirt after a day's use, which were also excellent for smacking siblings within a three foot radius.)
God, I wasn't ready to leave. A few minutes went by after i realized while i was gawking at my dental childhood my mom was asking when to bring Kyden, my nephew, for his first visit. Dr. Okawachi explained he was eager to see his first patient's first born. Kyden will be the beginning. I am the ending...it's surreal to be the ending. This thought made me smile...
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