Hershey Kisses

This post is dedicated solely to the eighth wonder of the world that is, Pooja Boinapalli.

“Do you want me to look at your toe?”

“Can I just go over there and barf on him please? I’ll seriously hold it in and when he opens the door I’ll just be like BLERGH.”

“You don’t even have to be cute. If you have an orifice for him to stick his tongue down, that’s enough.”

“I’m a loaded gun baby.”

“I need to look at my physio notes to tell how drunk I am.”

“Do you ever wake up in the morning and just really want penis?”

“I’m not hungover. Wait, is indigestion a symptom of a hangover?”

“Yeah, I was looking at that–just eye-fucking it so hard.”

“Do Cyclops women have uniboobs? Well, the men have two hands right, so they must need two things to grab on to.”

“Doesn’t vagina sound like an alien? Like ‘Hello, my name is Vagina from the planet Vulcan.’”

“I love this sandwich so much I would actually marry it.”
Later, eating Chipotle…
“Never mind, I’m divorcing the sandwich so I can marry this burrito.”
A few days later, eating the sandwich again…
“I think I’ll just convert to Mormonism or Islam so I can start a harem.”

While pelvic thrusting in my direction…
“Let’s bone her.”

Pooja: I was psychoanalyzing him at dinner.
me: And what conclusion did you come to?
Pooja: That I am not a psychologist.

me: Yadadamean?
Pooja: Nadadawean…wait no…

We also had a conversation about our skin colors and boobs, but they’re too inappropriate. Also, sometimes we sleep together and spoon. No homo.

FRANCES YANG IS COOL

FRANCES

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FRANCES

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FRANCESFRANCES

Faith and Questions

“But You never said it would be easy, You only said I’d never go alone.”

I’m not Christian, but I love the message of this song. It’s so soothing to know that we’re never really alone.

I find it very difficult to talk about religion and my faith, what with the hordes of atheists and Bible thumpers yelling over each other with no heed to what the other is trying to get across, but I just wanted to share how important faith really is to me.

I’m leaving home in a few weeks and to say I’m terrified would be an insulting understatement. For the first time in my life, I won’t have my parents looking over my shoulder every step I take. It’s not an easy burden to bear, but I think I would be worse off if I didn’t believe in a higher power. Let’s face it, the physical world balances precariously on a shoddy foundation infested with greed and inhumanity, so it’s comforting to believe that there is something in the universe other than our human selfishness that will remain with us even when we are swarmed by our troubles. I can’t pretend to know what tomorrow is going to be like when I cannonball blindly into the deep end, but at least I know I won’t drown. And with that peace of mind, I won’t hesitate to jump in with a running start.

Maybe I am wrong. Maybe it is foolish to put so much in store to the seemingly uncertain idea of this entity. But if it’s not God who is making us strong, then it’s our belief that’s doing the trick. Either way, does it even matter? Would it really be so bad if it was just my naïveté protecting my psyche from the demons that Pandora released ages ago?

I guess the biggest counterargument to my belief would be the lack of “proof” that this power exists, but what is faith but an unwavering trust on a spiritual basis, with none of the petty desire for tangible proof. And even then, I need only to look at the life i was born to and the people around me to be convinced.

PS. I am perfectly content with my agnosticism. Please don’t try to salvage my heathen soul, thanks.

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

I don’t like roses and I don’t like tiger lilies. Roses reek of clichés and tradition while the stench of a tiger lily can only be tolerated by the bravest of iconoclasts. Just like in all other aspects of my life, I fall in the middle, nothing short of average. I’m opinionated enough to be jaded by the absolute mundane, but I’m much too cowardly to even venture near the perimeter of the unknown.

There is little about me that stand out from the next person. Dark brown eyes, right-handedness, full cheeks around flawed features, crippling pride and narcissism unsuccessfully smothered with a heavy cloak of modesty, height that succumbed to gravity far too early: all characteristics shared by the majority. But I deliberately take it a few steps further. My hair has to endure daily torture as I go to great lengths to straighten out its flaws, too afraid of my unruly ringlets, a small source of my limited uniqueness. I wrenched myself away from the blurry, tentative dream I had of making a living out of my sarcasm, and instead settled for pursuing a career in a science I’m barely passable at, just because I see more certainty in this path. I could have taken a year off after graduation to finally give in to my lifelong desire of drinking in the marvels of the world firsthand, traveling with barely enough money to make it to the neighboring country, but I didn’t because that wasn’t as safe and secure as going off to college. I even had the choice to go to college all over the state and in a few others, but I stuck to the one closest to home without thinking twice. Sometimes, I wish I could channel our old friend Robert and stride confidently onto the road less traveled* without a backward glance, but an impenetrable wall of inhibitions keeps me out.

I do try. I force myself to try to break free from my self-inflicted shackles, molt my protective exterior and let my Achilles’ heel show once in a while. I put on a façade of effervescent energy and confidence in hopes that I’ll grow into it someday.

But I just can’t bring myself to love tiger lilies. The fiery color blinds me and the petals burst open outward, flaunting scattered splotches of imperfections with an unwavering courage I would never possess.

And so I console myself with plain tulips. The flower’s beauty comes from the simplicity of its make, the security of its closed bulb, the smoothness of its slender stalk, the evenness of its untainted color. I feel comfort when I’m blanketed by its monochromatic petals of convention, and for now I’m going to let myself enjoy being cocooned inside pure hues of calm.

*The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

PS. I will give a zillion brownie points to whoever can get where I got the title from.

Stories from the Motherland!

While I enjoy seeing my family and shocking them with new-fangled foreign crap every year (this year it was the piercing and the underwire in my bras), I’m pretty sure hell is just a few degrees cooler than Kolkata, so future visits from me don’t look probable. I’m not even exaggerating; it averaged 95^oF with a humidity of 80% and it only cooled down to the high 80s at night. And so to celebrate my evasion from heat stroke, I have compiled a list of things I learned/observed/was told during my three-week stint in India:

1. The first few are going to be fun grandma facts. I give off a slightly whorish vibe. Oh thanks grandma.
   

   I'm Bengali. That's a real fish. This is really as stereotypical as it gets.

2. She has yet to remember my name or even realize that I am not my mother. Yay early stages of Alzheimer’s. But does that stop her from constantly making fart jokes and kicking my ass at Tetris? No.
3. “Girl, you got some meat on your bones. And your boobs are too big.” Goddamn woman.
4. I’m too dark. That one never gets old. So to fix my fatal flaw, she made me a face mask out of god-knows-what that I was forced to slather on daily. I can’t say that I’m any lighter, but I do have a distinctly more yellowish tinge.
5. At my uncle’s wedding, she introduced me to a random neighbor’s twenty year old son. My grandmother thinks I need to get laid.
6. She can speak Bengali, Hindi, English, and Burmese. Oh, and Japanese (something about World War II). Now I can tell you to go eff your sister in two more languages. Also she makes the best bread pudding ever.
7. My uncle got in an accident while biking under the influence. He was supposed to teach me how to ride that bike when he came home. Looks like responsible drinking runs in my family.
8. Calcium is pronounced calshum.
9. I almost got plowed by a rickshaw because I’m a stupid American and walk on the right side of the street. I can also now drive a manual but only if the steering wheel is on the right.
10. Everyone smokes. In fact, in all the countries I’ve visited outside of the US, smoking is the most ubiquitous part of society. I think the only reason Americans aren’t constantly choking on cancer sticks is because we’re already addicted to food and being faggots to the rest of the world.
11. There’s a reason people in Africa used to wear only loincloths. It’s what you’re supposed to wear in insufferable heat. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to run around in my short shorts to my heart’s desire, because that’s not socially acceptable here. In the hottest fucking country in the world. Yeah, that makes sense.

That’s all for now. My summer has been…I don’t care enough to talk about it. You’ll hear from me again when I get away from the pathetic excuses for people I’m forced to call friends here in Cupertino.

I’m on a boat!

A few days ago, it was brought to my attention that I haven’t posted in a while, so here goes

Since the last time I was bitching about useless people in my life, I’ve had some fun and epiphanies. Over spring break, I went to Irvine with my favorite, Teresa Sonrisa, and we spent her 18th birthday at California Adventures. She was on a quest to try new things and even though I’m still quite far from crossing the threshold into adulthood, I joined her in her endeavors. For example, we had–and thoroughly enjoyed–our first corn dogs, Teresa a bit moreso than me.

I love this girl.

And even though that’s about all we accomplished in those three days, I actually learned something very useful from being around her. I love that she has no qualms abut striking up a conversation with a stranger, whether it’s asking an employee whether he is fluent in Spanish because his name is Jesus, or marching straight up to the help desk on my behalf with no trace of hesitation dampening her brisk walk (good God, that girl walks fast). So Teresa, I hope you will join me when I turn 18 and we’ll do something ridiculous like streak or skydive to celebrate. And sorry for spitting on you when I wished you a happy birthday, I was just too excited.

After that trip, I came home and visited UC Davis and I have to say, I was very pleasantly surprised. I ran into many old friends and I quite liked the environment. It seems like a very good fit for me, and the fact that I’m rooming with the loveliest girl ever makes the imminent transition even less daunting. After visiting, it finally dawned on me how drastically different my life will be in just a few months, and my mind reduced my remaining days of high school to a mere trifle. I know I was preaching cherishing the limited time we have left, but I am absolutely exhausted from dealing with my peers, who are possibly the largest collection of insensitive, irksome, immature little children I have ever had the misfortune to come across. The only comfort I have left is the fact that I have to deal with this sickening student body for just another month.

I am, however, looking forward to senior ball because it will be the last time I get to justify the alarming hedonism that comes with being a girl during prom season. If you’re reading this, I’ve probably already given you a detailed view of what I’m wearing inside and out. But more importantly, I’m looking forward to sweating the night away with the select few people that I’ve come to know and love, and I’m definitely going to have a good time, because like our wonderful class secretary said today, “Bitch, it’s my fucking boat.”

So MV, I will miss you to death, but to the Matadors, I can’t wait to say a big “fuck you” to you all and leave forever. Except the kids I like. I’m stalking every one of you forever

Fall outs and skinny jeans

Stereotypically, high school senior year is supposed to be gone in a blink of eye leaving behind only a whirlwind of blurred emotions and memories. Then, we’re supposed stand in the sweltering heat with the sun penetrating even the most polarized of our shades, and it’s all supposed to end in a symbolic flourish because our school is so special, we don’t throw our graduation caps in the air. Then summer is supposed be another crazy three months, when the lines between night and day become indiscernible, and we’re finally off to our colleges, meager freshmen once again.

Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten off to a very good start to this process. Forgive me for dropping my polished pretense, but this year effing blows. Hard. First semester was just a frantic continuation of junior year, and now, even though I’ve become an accomplished lazy bum, I am just not happy with the status quo. Though I’ve gotten very close to the unlikeliest of people and even closer to some I’ve been with for a while, I’ve lost friends left and right.

Conflict resolution has never been my forte, so when a friend and I have problems, my knee jerk reaction is to ignore and avoid. Recently, I’ve been working on not being such a frigid bitch, so now I at least tell people that I want them to get out before I cut them off. Which isn’t particularly mature either, but baby steps are the way to go.

However, I’ve never been part of an exacerbated fall out, which is why I was caught so off guard. For a while now, a close friend and I hadn’t been spending as much time together, and I simply blamed it on our incompatible schedules. But little things kept popping up and they didn’t make me feel very appreciated. Again, I blamed it on my own inherent neediness and tried hard to keep it to myself. When we finally had a chance to talk, I was told that she was a different person and that we were going our separate ways, and it was painfully apparent that she really wasn’t bothered.

There isn’t anything I can do, but it makes me sad nonetheless. I tried to be a supportive friend and the best I can do is accept this surprising outcome. The harsh reality is, people do change and fall outs happen. But kids, don’t get ahead of yourselves now, you guys are barely adults. The most change you have ever experienced in your life is the sudden shift from bootcuts to skinny jeans. Stop bullshitting yourself, because you can afford to squeeze in a lunch here and there. I’m not saying we should cling to every friendship, but that we should come up with better excuses to break them off.

Oh, and a word of caution: the next person to patronize me should just get out now. I am going to tear you a new one. No joke. On that note, happy April, everyone .

PS. I just had the loveliest conversation with someone I hold very close to my heart, and consider to be the perfect combo of friend and big sister, Tara Raam. Girl, I love you <3. Just because the rest of the world pushes you over the edge, doesn’t mean you still don’t have a safety net to catch you when you fall.

Pieces of Me

Like most of you guys, I’m suffering from a terrible disease. It can’t be cured so I’ll just have to wait for it to run its course, not that I’m complaining. I’m talking, of course, about the inevitable senioritis. My immune system had been putting up a pretty decent fight well into second semester, but as soon as college notifications came out, my white T-cells just disintegrated.

 Like yesterday, while I should have been studying for my calc test, I spent hours listening to Afroman, who provides us with such musical gems as Colt 45 and Because I Got High. And today, I stumbled into said test, over five minutes late, clutching a cup of tea from Peet’s, and quite frankly, not caring about Ando’s evident desires of bodily throwing me out of the room.

While I’m perfectly happy with the effect senioritis is having on my academics, I’m a little concerned with its rampage on my relationships with people. When a friend talks to me about a problem of theirs, I can feel my apathy oozing into the conversation and morphing into an impenetrable wall between us. It reminds me that I should really care less because after all, I’m leaving in a couple months.

And that is a worse excuse than the teenage staple “I was just holding it for a friend.” I’m ashamed to admit that I’m being somewhat of a hypocrite. Instead of anticipating the future desperately, I should be embracing every blessed second I have left with the amazing people in my life. It is wrong to put a time limit on something as quintissentially beautiful and sacred as friendship. God has been kind enough to have woven my fate into all of theirs, and the least I can do is take enough care to not tear out the stitches. So kids, let’s take that road trip I mentioned last time. I promise I won’t speed. Okay, maybe just a little.

Hello there!

I only read two people’s blogs religiously and while both are very close to my heart, I’ve noticed the most I do after reading their posts is nod vigorously in agreement. I consider myself to be a fairly dogmatic person and I’ve been known to drop eloquency bombs like “detrimental to one’s perception of reality” like I did today in lit class, so why not put my own ideas out first for a change? So I have decided to jump onto the already overcrowded bandwagon and start a blog too! And since my graduation date is fast approaching, I wanted to keep a record of the last couple months of the bittersweet rollercoaster ride that has been high school.

Now I know that the most prevalent and pressing thing on our minds right now is college. I have to admit, even being the go-with-the-flow kind of person that I am, I have been stressing constantly about the four year voyage I’m about to begin. Hell, I’m not even happy with the school I’m going to go to, but in the persistant currents of typical MV competition and high standards, I forgot to appreciate the amazing opportunity that life has given me. So many kids more deserving than me don’t even have the chance to attend elementary school, yet here I am, in a three-story townhouse in the perfect little suburban town with daddy’s plastic in my wallet, whining about how I want more.

So I have made a new deal with myself. As this chapter of my life begins to whittle down to the last few paragraphs, I am going to make an active effort to appreciate the good things in life, like the five boxes of thin mints hidden under my bed, and even the bad things, like losing touch with the closest of friends. I feel like we’re all so caught up in getting to our final destination, we forget to stop once in a while at a little vista point off the freeway to just sit on the bench, take a breather, enjoy the view in front of us, and to take one last look at the one behind us. Sometimes, you have to set cruise control, stick your foot out the window, and just go where the wind takes you. Sure, there’ll be plenty of potholes along the way, but you’ll love where you end up, trust me. And if you don’t, then you still have a couple miles left in your road trip.