Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Waller
This was the first book I read. I read it one go, sitting on the couch and I cried and cried and cried. It is a beautiful love story that got me hooked onto books forever.
God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
Spectacular. I fell in love when I read this in India. It is a story set in India about twins and their life and how things work there, that sounds annoyingly vague, however she manages to describe the vague with such subtlety and emotion that I have never digested writing such as hers. Most people either love it or hate it, it focuses alot on the moments - which of course, I cannot resist.
Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates
The book was far far better than the movie, even though I do adore the Titanic duo. It is such a powerful book that even if you do know the story by having watched the movie, it is most definitely worth reading the book.
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
The book is as good as the movie - I have yet to see that come true elsewhere. His style of writing is lovely and gory.
The Awakening by Kate Chopin
Set in the late 1800's it is about a woman and her unorthodox views and her struggle and enjoyment throughout her life. It is once again very subtle, however it has stuck with me for years.
Train to Pakistan by Kushwant Singh
A very well known Indian novel about the Partition and all the political and social events surrounding it. It is set in a tiny tiny town and has a love story within it. It is short and sweet. Anyone who is a reader in India has read it, and they are proud of the story.
Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
A japanese novel that is described on Wikipedia as "a real page-turner as well as an insistently metaphysical mind bender." I read it in India and could not stop copying quotes from it.
Marcovaldo by Italo Calvino
A series of short stories about Marcovaldo. Wonderful. Read it in Practice Theory and everyone in class had a different view point, however mine was that he emphasized every bit of nature left in our concrete world.
Dirt: The Ecstatic Skin of the Earth by William Bryant Logan
Read it in Practice Theory. Poetically written, Logan speaks of the skin we stand on and how little we know of it! An eye-opener.
The Alchemist by Paul Coelho
An inspirational book that swims in the bookstores of India. Everyone has read it there and what he writes is so inspirational I find myself re-reading the Author's Note - which, yes don't skit that part, it is the best part -read!
As You Like It by Shakespeare
So far, I think this is my favorite. A comedy, it is so much fun to read. Make sure to get the "No Fear Shakespeare" version, where one page is Shakespeare and the other side is a "translation." I totally got over not being able to understand it on my own, the fact is we are not taught or even challenged to try to figure out what Shakespeare is saying sometimes, so it is nice to read the translation - you understand it so much more and over time you can understand his pattern of words and translate it yourself.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Darfur, Two Minutes of Silence Please
This is a response to a PBS Frontline: "On Our Watch," video I watched online for my government class. I am ashamed at myself for knowing close to nothing about this and I have already scolded my eyes and ears for closing so often! Genocide! It is scary, it is all about how this has been an issue and the UN has done nothing about it except pretend to worry about it. They pass resolutions while making toasts: People are Dying and You Are Not doing anything about it? When does the line between political behavior and death get blurred. I just don't get it. That is why while the UN scratches its ass, I will be making movies so I can help spread the voice of all those who have a story to tell, whether it be not the story everyone wants to hear. Anyways, here it is:
Before I begin to splash my ink wildly upon this page, I feel it only politically polite to make a toast: on a Responsibility to protect. For are not the promise of clanking wine glasses the solution to blood-ridden lives?
Darfur, Sedan is a space where genocide in the 21st century may be safely viewed from our computer and television screens. Commencing this madness in 2003, Darfur has unknowingly tumbled into the newest episode of Nazi vs. Jews, Tutsis vs. Hutus, and the Bosnian massacre. Only this time, the episode has a new name, “Janjaweed, the Devils on Horseback Have Killed 499,808 More Lives than Seats in the United Nations.” As most genocides and atrocities begin, the Darfur killings were not of crucial importance or value to the world, mainly due to the silence of the Sudan government. Playing a vital role in a dead-boned civilization, the Sudan government needed not shout as loud as many of its citizens might have during their death, the government instead used its economic partners as blinders to the world. Holding hands with China, its main supplier and Russia, who as well was hushing the ghosts of its own massacre, the three held the fort down on knowingly allowing genocide to blossom.
Three powerful governments, Sudan, China, and Russia played this game of hide and seek. Maybe if we hide, they will not see the blood. While the three Musketeers played their game, men of action such as Kapila were on the path of getting Darfur noticed. Years of writings on this dire issue to the UN did close to nothing for Kapila, forcing him to brand the word “genocide,” on BBC radio. Playing a role in the UN, the U.S. government did no such thing beyond lift a finger during Clinton’s term and clank glasses during Bush’s term. Over time, the U.S. government along with the pressure of the largest anti-genocide rally in May 2006 made its voice heard in the UN. Insisting on passing resolutions to favor Darfur, in 2006 Resolution 1706 was passed: boosting African troops from 7,000 to 20,000, however with only one loophole. China would not agree to the passing of this resolution, unless if it agreed to the terms that the troops could only go in if Sedan agreed, and of course as shameful governments do, Sudan disagreed.
It took three years to get to this point of passing a resolution. That truly did nothing to open eyes at incessant rapes, eye gouging, and family mass killing. However, as a couple of years passed and as hundreds of thousands of heads were cut off and as China was globally embarrassed by being the first nation to host “The Genocide Olympics” on July 14, 2008 the prosecutor at the International Criminal Court filed ten charges against Sudan’s President Omar al-Bashir. He was not only an instrumental part to this orchestra of red chaos, but also the composer. As of now, President Obama has stated that along with the UN he will create “a path for long-term peace and stability in the Sudan.” A statement that hopefully all the Sudanese people may swallow and digest.
Before I begin to splash my ink wildly upon this page, I feel it only politically polite to make a toast: on a Responsibility to protect. For are not the promise of clanking wine glasses the solution to blood-ridden lives?
Darfur, Sedan is a space where genocide in the 21st century may be safely viewed from our computer and television screens. Commencing this madness in 2003, Darfur has unknowingly tumbled into the newest episode of Nazi vs. Jews, Tutsis vs. Hutus, and the Bosnian massacre. Only this time, the episode has a new name, “Janjaweed, the Devils on Horseback Have Killed 499,808 More Lives than Seats in the United Nations.” As most genocides and atrocities begin, the Darfur killings were not of crucial importance or value to the world, mainly due to the silence of the Sudan government. Playing a vital role in a dead-boned civilization, the Sudan government needed not shout as loud as many of its citizens might have during their death, the government instead used its economic partners as blinders to the world. Holding hands with China, its main supplier and Russia, who as well was hushing the ghosts of its own massacre, the three held the fort down on knowingly allowing genocide to blossom.
Three powerful governments, Sudan, China, and Russia played this game of hide and seek. Maybe if we hide, they will not see the blood. While the three Musketeers played their game, men of action such as Kapila were on the path of getting Darfur noticed. Years of writings on this dire issue to the UN did close to nothing for Kapila, forcing him to brand the word “genocide,” on BBC radio. Playing a role in the UN, the U.S. government did no such thing beyond lift a finger during Clinton’s term and clank glasses during Bush’s term. Over time, the U.S. government along with the pressure of the largest anti-genocide rally in May 2006 made its voice heard in the UN. Insisting on passing resolutions to favor Darfur, in 2006 Resolution 1706 was passed: boosting African troops from 7,000 to 20,000, however with only one loophole. China would not agree to the passing of this resolution, unless if it agreed to the terms that the troops could only go in if Sedan agreed, and of course as shameful governments do, Sudan disagreed.
It took three years to get to this point of passing a resolution. That truly did nothing to open eyes at incessant rapes, eye gouging, and family mass killing. However, as a couple of years passed and as hundreds of thousands of heads were cut off and as China was globally embarrassed by being the first nation to host “The Genocide Olympics” on July 14, 2008 the prosecutor at the International Criminal Court filed ten charges against Sudan’s President Omar al-Bashir. He was not only an instrumental part to this orchestra of red chaos, but also the composer. As of now, President Obama has stated that along with the UN he will create “a path for long-term peace and stability in the Sudan.” A statement that hopefully all the Sudanese people may swallow and digest.
Me....Selfish? Really? No! (Part II)
You are wholly right darling and I apologize. So thank you for calling me out simply and openly. I needed to hear it and I appreciate that you did not lash out on me with the phone but listened (as much as possible!) to my woes and swallowed your hurt till you could express it to me in the most perfect way. I ate, slept, and breathed my own drama while you did yours. Mine was unhealthy and yours was not--and thank you for not letting my sickness creep into your mind or emotions.
I want to skype with you and hear and see whatever monologue you let me be a part of. Computer back--so I can and am desperate for it ( them?). Tell me your schedule again. I know you go to NY and Chicago and one of the schools is Yale. I filled up my universe with someone else's information and allowed your precious words to slip. I hope it is not to late to re-learn. I hope you have not left already---ahhh, I am sorry.
But I am not writing an entire apology post. You get the gist and that is not why you wrote to me. You wrote to me because you want me to be apart of your world. #3 in your beloved audience. And I too want to be there. You are inexplicably toxic. Generally, toxic may have bad connotations but I like it right now. It is not negative to me but just right. It is mysterious and dangerous and sexy and vulnerable and unforgettable forever altering someone to see and experience the world from a new perspective. Yours.
You know that is such an amazing gift you have. And you realize how beautiful it is. Others see---I was going to give some analogy but realized it wouldn't really live up to what I am saying and what you know I am saying--so I will save my analogy. You get it.
And to your email to architecture---that you find yourself thoughtlessly lying about why you are in houston---don't do that anymore. It isn't necessary. Tell the truth and set yourself up to be free, to be open to critical looks and misunderstandings and refreshing enthusiasm or encouragement or connections that would not have existed if you kept your passion locked within the precious wooden walls on Polk Street and hidden space of this blog. Be selfish. People ask why you are in houston and what happened to architecture?...You are still doing architecture. You are finishing up the requirements at HCC because you are applying to acting schools for the fall and being in Houston allows you to save money, earn money, and time to study and focus on your applications and auditions--all requirements that Austin could not fullfil. Say you took acting classes as a whim but found yourself eating, sleeping, and dreaming drama while dreading architecture. That you decided to go after your lover and you always have architecture to fall back on or turn back to if your love rests. Tell whoever that you were terrified of changing courses---because leaving such a smart, dependable, interesting, and respectable future for the cliche, whimsical idea of acting would be looked at harshly or critically or as if you are throwing your life away---but you chose to fuck it. Because life without love and passion sucks. And if you have the ability, means, freedom, and drive to go after it---why the fuck would you stay in architecture. Architecture isn't bad, it's just not you.
I have a photoshoot with an iphone in a bit. I need to pluck my stash and eyebrows and haul my shit in the car to meet my photographer and camera (the iphone) at the beach. Any instant click moments I find irresistible, I will have her send you immediately. And I'll text you to set up a skype date. I am free today, tonight. Tell me a time and I will drop plans or carefully sculpt them around our date.
bri
I want to skype with you and hear and see whatever monologue you let me be a part of. Computer back--so I can and am desperate for it ( them?). Tell me your schedule again. I know you go to NY and Chicago and one of the schools is Yale. I filled up my universe with someone else's information and allowed your precious words to slip. I hope it is not to late to re-learn. I hope you have not left already---ahhh, I am sorry.
But I am not writing an entire apology post. You get the gist and that is not why you wrote to me. You wrote to me because you want me to be apart of your world. #3 in your beloved audience. And I too want to be there. You are inexplicably toxic. Generally, toxic may have bad connotations but I like it right now. It is not negative to me but just right. It is mysterious and dangerous and sexy and vulnerable and unforgettable forever altering someone to see and experience the world from a new perspective. Yours.
You know that is such an amazing gift you have. And you realize how beautiful it is. Others see---I was going to give some analogy but realized it wouldn't really live up to what I am saying and what you know I am saying--so I will save my analogy. You get it.
And to your email to architecture---that you find yourself thoughtlessly lying about why you are in houston---don't do that anymore. It isn't necessary. Tell the truth and set yourself up to be free, to be open to critical looks and misunderstandings and refreshing enthusiasm or encouragement or connections that would not have existed if you kept your passion locked within the precious wooden walls on Polk Street and hidden space of this blog. Be selfish. People ask why you are in houston and what happened to architecture?...You are still doing architecture. You are finishing up the requirements at HCC because you are applying to acting schools for the fall and being in Houston allows you to save money, earn money, and time to study and focus on your applications and auditions--all requirements that Austin could not fullfil. Say you took acting classes as a whim but found yourself eating, sleeping, and dreaming drama while dreading architecture. That you decided to go after your lover and you always have architecture to fall back on or turn back to if your love rests. Tell whoever that you were terrified of changing courses---because leaving such a smart, dependable, interesting, and respectable future for the cliche, whimsical idea of acting would be looked at harshly or critically or as if you are throwing your life away---but you chose to fuck it. Because life without love and passion sucks. And if you have the ability, means, freedom, and drive to go after it---why the fuck would you stay in architecture. Architecture isn't bad, it's just not you.
I have a photoshoot with an iphone in a bit. I need to pluck my stash and eyebrows and haul my shit in the car to meet my photographer and camera (the iphone) at the beach. Any instant click moments I find irresistible, I will have her send you immediately. And I'll text you to set up a skype date. I am free today, tonight. Tell me a time and I will drop plans or carefully sculpt them around our date.
bri
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
For Me
Bri, sweetheart, I am about to go to the most liberating and scary thing – go audition for drama schools. I have only dreamt of being set loose by the jaws of architecture and allowed the luxury to dabble in the art of drama. The reason I was short on the phone the other day was because I was so hurt that our conversations were your voice talking about three weeks, drugs, and a boy. When all I wanted to do was talk about ME. Me. ME. Me. And when you did ask about me, your response had to do with either food or Brandon.
As of right now, I do not care about drug boy or what sticks and bones eat – because I need you, I need your encouragement, I need your words – more so than needing them, I want them. I know what it feels like to be wrapped up in something or emotions and how they attack your tongue and that is all you can think, feel, and express – but I wish you could just feel my anxiety. I am scared. I am excited. I am petrified. I am pumped. I am ready.
To perform.
Your life means a lot to me and always will, but please dearest melting piece of irresistible cheese – step back from your sun centered life – and see what all that your words are veiling.
I know I could have picked up the phone and filled your ears with what I am feeling, but I like to write – my fingers have a lovely knack of maturely and dramatically expressing me, versus my candid temper-filled tongue.
And I have not been boiling with anger or resentment – I have been much too into Regan and Desdemona to allow my anger for you to pile up – I merely wanted the blog to express.
Love love love you
And love that you are back on the blog.
I missed sweet shits.
As of right now, I do not care about drug boy or what sticks and bones eat – because I need you, I need your encouragement, I need your words – more so than needing them, I want them. I know what it feels like to be wrapped up in something or emotions and how they attack your tongue and that is all you can think, feel, and express – but I wish you could just feel my anxiety. I am scared. I am excited. I am petrified. I am pumped. I am ready.
To perform.
Your life means a lot to me and always will, but please dearest melting piece of irresistible cheese – step back from your sun centered life – and see what all that your words are veiling.
I know I could have picked up the phone and filled your ears with what I am feeling, but I like to write – my fingers have a lovely knack of maturely and dramatically expressing me, versus my candid temper-filled tongue.
And I have not been boiling with anger or resentment – I have been much too into Regan and Desdemona to allow my anger for you to pile up – I merely wanted the blog to express.
Love love love you
And love that you are back on the blog.
I missed sweet shits.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Ahhhh.........I missed you!
My computer is back. It is super fast because there is nothing on it. Fresh, clean start. All memories erased. My external has my architectural heart, musical beats and the internet holds my face and form. Recovery will come naturally, day by day.
And so it goes with Brandon. Drama be to the wind. Light as feathers we are. I bought him Shantaram and Omnivore's Dilemma and a moleskine sketchbook. In it, I wrote him quotes and a letter. It said that I was sorry for not being decisive. That I was sorry I told him I couldn't be with him the other night but then kept waiting for him to convince me to stay. I was sorry that I let myself swallow his words only to throw them back up. I told him that I realized with clarity, without guilt and without self- doubt that I couldn't be with him and that I would not be with him. I told him that it isn't about fighting for the relationship nor giving up, but knowing when to let go--and we grabbed hold to quickly and too early. I told him that I had lied to myself because I wanted to believe his words--that 3 weeks was long enough for him to heal from years of abuse--and it took me 3 months to get my shit together when I moved here and that can't even compare to what he has set out to do for himself. I told him that he must have, on some level, known he was going to get fucked up when we left and needs to own it and try to discover what he is afraid of or why he wanted to sabotage himself--his recovery and our relationship. I told him that facing yourself and being honest with yourself and dealing with guilt is one of the most difficult things to do on earth--and that it is ok to have weaknesses. That he needs to accept and face the fact that he can't put himself in those situations because he might not be strong enough to handle them. yet. I told him that he can't see the trip as a royal fuck up with me on the one hand, and as a small exception to his sobriety on the other. It doesn't work like that. That his sober count needs to start over again and I will be there to support him and be excited when he reaches 3 weeks again--and then a month and then 2 and so on. I told him that he shouldn't want to be with me because if he is taking his recovery seriously, then he cannot handle a relationship and if he isn't taking it seriously, then he would hurt me again like that, and no one you love or care about should ever go through that.
I told him that I care about him so so much and that I think the world of him. That, yes, I am lucky to have you in my life and I will always probably have a crush on him.
All of this I wrote last night and didn't know when I would tell him. He texted me this morning to go to breakfast before my morning shift. I picked him up, we sipped tea, I let go. He argued defensively, I responded defenselessly. He was hurt, I was hurting.
He changed his phone number to get away from his past. He texted me at work that he read what I wrote and was sorry for being defensive and he understood what I was saying and thanked me. He came to work and we blabbed about books, giggled, smiled, he was ok. More than ok. Accepted and took it better than I ever thought possible. We are friends. No more, no less.
I hope he takes it seriously. I hope he doesn't seek out another girl or risky situations to satisfy his self doubt and undermine his goals. The last 2 days he has been back. The Brandon I looked forward to seeing at work and the one I adore.
Love you Ajna. Thank you for your strength and words of wisdom darling.
And so it goes with Brandon. Drama be to the wind. Light as feathers we are. I bought him Shantaram and Omnivore's Dilemma and a moleskine sketchbook. In it, I wrote him quotes and a letter. It said that I was sorry for not being decisive. That I was sorry I told him I couldn't be with him the other night but then kept waiting for him to convince me to stay. I was sorry that I let myself swallow his words only to throw them back up. I told him that I realized with clarity, without guilt and without self- doubt that I couldn't be with him and that I would not be with him. I told him that it isn't about fighting for the relationship nor giving up, but knowing when to let go--and we grabbed hold to quickly and too early. I told him that I had lied to myself because I wanted to believe his words--that 3 weeks was long enough for him to heal from years of abuse--and it took me 3 months to get my shit together when I moved here and that can't even compare to what he has set out to do for himself. I told him that he must have, on some level, known he was going to get fucked up when we left and needs to own it and try to discover what he is afraid of or why he wanted to sabotage himself--his recovery and our relationship. I told him that facing yourself and being honest with yourself and dealing with guilt is one of the most difficult things to do on earth--and that it is ok to have weaknesses. That he needs to accept and face the fact that he can't put himself in those situations because he might not be strong enough to handle them. yet. I told him that he can't see the trip as a royal fuck up with me on the one hand, and as a small exception to his sobriety on the other. It doesn't work like that. That his sober count needs to start over again and I will be there to support him and be excited when he reaches 3 weeks again--and then a month and then 2 and so on. I told him that he shouldn't want to be with me because if he is taking his recovery seriously, then he cannot handle a relationship and if he isn't taking it seriously, then he would hurt me again like that, and no one you love or care about should ever go through that.
I told him that I care about him so so much and that I think the world of him. That, yes, I am lucky to have you in my life and I will always probably have a crush on him.
All of this I wrote last night and didn't know when I would tell him. He texted me this morning to go to breakfast before my morning shift. I picked him up, we sipped tea, I let go. He argued defensively, I responded defenselessly. He was hurt, I was hurting.
He changed his phone number to get away from his past. He texted me at work that he read what I wrote and was sorry for being defensive and he understood what I was saying and thanked me. He came to work and we blabbed about books, giggled, smiled, he was ok. More than ok. Accepted and took it better than I ever thought possible. We are friends. No more, no less.
I hope he takes it seriously. I hope he doesn't seek out another girl or risky situations to satisfy his self doubt and undermine his goals. The last 2 days he has been back. The Brandon I looked forward to seeing at work and the one I adore.
Love you Ajna. Thank you for your strength and words of wisdom darling.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
revolting honesty
My melting sun of brie,
Beware the winds of pills,
For they can be harsh.
These winds have no homes,
Nor minds of their own.
Despite honesty,
The lips that kiss pills
Are broken.
And our job it is,
To help sew them back.
Then walk away,
Without looking back.
Preserve thy safety
And go home.
p.s.
Amazon is being oh so kind,
it is painting us green!
Beware the winds of pills,
For they can be harsh.
These winds have no homes,
Nor minds of their own.
Despite honesty,
The lips that kiss pills
Are broken.
And our job it is,
To help sew them back.
Then walk away,
Without looking back.
Preserve thy safety
And go home.
p.s.
Amazon is being oh so kind,
it is painting us green!
Monday, January 18, 2010
a line
Oh innovators of the xyz,
You commence thou schooling
At the sun’s presence.
Bizarre, my footprints have been erased,
They are unseen.
Veiled in my words,
I have stepped back to my nest.
Oh fantasy,
You have fed me your food!
For my expression is no longer lead.
It is voice.
Change: to make the form of nature, content, future course, etc. of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone
Change: from lead to voice,
My line draws to speak,
"Dearest Architecture,
I will miss you."
You commence thou schooling
At the sun’s presence.
Bizarre, my footprints have been erased,
They are unseen.
Veiled in my words,
I have stepped back to my nest.
Oh fantasy,
You have fed me your food!
For my expression is no longer lead.
It is voice.
Change: to make the form of nature, content, future course, etc. of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone
Change: from lead to voice,
My line draws to speak,
"Dearest Architecture,
I will miss you."
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