Bullets and Bubbly

Being a Connecti-cite, I am not surprised that UCONN Law Students decided that it would be great fun to give homage to Martin Luther King, Jr. in a racist manner. In the party dubbed “Bullets and Bubbly,” white preppies dressed up in, “do-rags, gang signs, gold teeth, [with] malt liquor, [with] a fake machine gun during an off-campus gathering last weekend, just days after the civil rights leader's January 15 birthday.”

Future lawyers are overwhelmingly intelligent, as the pics of these fools ended up on Facebook. “One future attorney even wore fake tiger claw tattoos on her chest, an apparent homage to the rapper Eve.”

Thank you huskies, aren’t we so very funny? Good luck when future employers discover these pics on the i-net.

P.O.A.S. (Pee On A Stick)

I read that Dollar Tree sells $1 pregnancy test,
reliable tests. I couldn't resist, I drove to my
nearest Dollar Tree and I started hoarding. I went
to the cash register to buy 10 tests. The sales
clerk looked at my like I was a nut job. I had to
stop myself from buying 20 tests!

Must fight the P.O.A.S addiction. This is like
breaking the seal ladies. Once I give into
temptation, I will not be able to stop myself from
running to the bathroom every morning, maybe
a few times a day, to do the deed.

Old Married Couple Talk

Last night the girls came over to watch Sex in the City and drink bubbly. This is my conversation with hubby today:

Me: Honey, do you want to have a threesome? Honey, do you want to have anal sex? Honey, do you want to watch porn and act out scenes? Honey, do you want to go to a strip club and get a lap dance? Honey, do you want us to get a sex slave?

Hubby: [Just looks at me with a blank expression]

Me: Honey, am a I sexual deviant? [smiling slyly]

Hubby: You're just a deviant.

I am not Latina

I had a doctor's appointment today for a physical. I found my doctor by doing a search on the United provider directory and assumed the doctor was female b/c the name sounded female to me. Keep in mind the doctor was Indian with a very Indian name. Apparently, I don't know my own people. I prefer female doctors because of the assumption that a male doctor maybe a sleaze ball. Anyhow, this was was the best medical experience I have ever had. He was professional, thorough, kind and took his time with me.

This experience today got me thinking about my own name. I have a very Latina name, extremely. My surname is Portuguese due to the travels of the Portuguese to my homeland. My first name is a common Spanish/Portuguese name but also could be desi. Being Catholic, my middle name is taken after a saint's name.

My parents were alway late picking me up from school. Some days my dad would come to pick me up. He would go the Office and the receptionist would say over the intercom, "Juana Theresa Rozario** please report the office," pronounced by the white receptionist with a Spanish accent. When I first emailed my husband regarding his article, he thought I was Puerto Rican. When I go to interviews it's always interesting when the interviewer takes a double take, eyes going from my resume to my face several times trying to understand what is going on.

I kept my maiden name for a good year after my marriage. I couldn't part with it. I finally decided to hyphenate my maiden and married last names. I partly did this in hopes that my name would more correctly identify my origins (i.e. I am not Latina).

Juana Theresa Rozario-Singh**........... I'm not sure if I met my objective.

**Real name is similar but obviously not disclosed for good reasons.

What Do Does Your Heart Desire?

Manifest your desires my lovelies. I believe that once you are able to decipher what it is you truly want, the universe will manifest your desires.

Maybe I’m a SF liberal-hippy-dippy freak, but what do you have to lose? Why be negative, seriously? What has being negative done for you? I know that negativity weighs me down, sucks away my energy, drains me emotionally, and sometimes makes me angry – it’s just a downward spiral. I know it’s so easy when I don’t get what I want to say, “f**ck it… life just suck.” At the end of the day, that line of thinking does nothing good for me. NOTHING.

I have to believe my life has purpose and meaning. This isn’t about control b/c unfortunately I don’t have the power to control every aspect of my life. Bad sh*t will happen. I can let that junk weight my spirit down OR I can say to myself and truly internalize that regardless of what happens my desires will be manifested.

What do I want? An October pumpkin.
My mantra: My pumpkin is coming. I want my pumpkin and the universe will give me my pumpkin.

Pro-Choice: Anniversary of Roe v. Wade

Abortion is a horrible decision to have to make. Losing a baby is hard, regardless of whether it was caused by miscarriage or by a decision made consciously through abortion. Unfortunately, people are treated different openly or silently when a minutia of intent or choice is involved, analogous to the same way cancer patients are given sympathy while HIV patients are treated with disdain.

I remember the first time hubby and I hooked up. Jeez, we were completely and totally careless. After a night of ecstasy wore off, I woke up with the thought, “I am such a f*cking idiot.” We were broke, no health insurance, no money and no job. My then boyfriend, now husband, was wonderful. He looked at me and said, “I love you. I knew I wanted to have a baby with you from the first time we met. If you are pregnant, I want you to keep the baby, but the choice is yours. Either way you have my support and respect.” Any question why I married this man?

The darling boy didn’t know about the morning after pill (aka EMERGENCY CONTRACEPTION). Not taking this pill wasn’t a choice for me; I simply wasn’t ready to be a mother (might I add at that point in my life I thought I never would want children). I ran to Planned Parenthood as quickly as I could. Picketers were standing outside the clinic telling me that I was evil and I should not kill my baby because my baby didn’t deserve to die. I remember feeling bad, slutty even. They made me feel bad, for what – trying to be responsible?

If I had been unable to take the morning after pill and had gotten pregnant and had made the choice to get an abortion, who would sympathize with me? In my heart, I can’t help but believe that my parents and friends would think thoughts like, “well I guess it’s for the best, that slut. God help that baby-killer’s soul.” I would not have gotten the love, affection and sympathy that was poured onto me after my miscarriage, after all I am a married woman, who is entitled to get pregnant. In retrospect, the scared and guilty twenty-something year old would probably been the one who needed more love and understanding.

Judeo-Christian beliefs should play no role when it comes to a woman’s decision to choose. Thank god I never had to make that awful choice, but if I had to, I’m glad the choice was always mine to make.

Hollywood Up To No Good

Hollywood is full of beautiful, stylish and sassy women. Whenever I drive down Hollywood Blvd or Melrose I am amazed by the unique styles of fashion on absolutely lovely ladies. I’ll be the first to admit that I used to have my own jealousies, especially with regard to other women. The women that I was most jealous of were the ones that are simultaneously authentic, successful, empowered and confident. My jealousy was directed towards women I didn’t know, not at my friends b/c when you’re one my girls all is good. After moving to Cali and being surrounded by the chill vibe, I have mellowed out from the uptight Yankee that I used to be.

This brings us to today’s story. Essentially, everyone in Hollywood is in the industry (and I do mean the entertainment industry). I too have thrown myself into the mix and am working in the film industry. In my new film world, I have met many desi chicas that seem to be authentic, liberal and sassy (girls after my own heart) and jealousy has not reared its ugly head. Instead I approach these women with openness, intrigue and admiration.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It does nothing more than to bring negativity. Jealousy is indeed a sign of insecurity. I am happy to see that it is diminishing from my life. I do believe that women’s cattiness is one of the reason there is no true “Old Girls Club.” I hope to see one in the near future.

Lost In Translation

Somewhere between the Bengali, English and my favorite Benglish, communications between my parents and me gets lost. My parents, unfortunately, don't have a great grasp on the English language, and when they communicate to me what they hear from anyone who speaks to them soley in English (which is basically everyone in regards to their jobs/health) the tranlation is always murky at best.

Yesterday: I get good news from mom.
Today: I get confused news from my dad.

Finally, I go to my brother who tells me the real deal. This is when I'm jealous. Jealous that I'm a 6 hour drive away from my family and am not involved in ther daily activities and needs. My younger brother has to act as an emissary for my parents, explaining their lives to me.

To All the Haters

A blogger put into words how I too feel about haters:

I most likely won't. There are things you don't write on a blog, not a blog that people actually read anyway. Namely, success. Because when you write about your personal successes, and you're me, it's giving the haters something else to throw shit at. Mostly people cheer and are happy for you, and even with "most," you get hung up on the bad and the mean. Why? Is it because you deep down doubt yourself and wonder if you're rally worthy? I don't think so. Not in this case. I'm fine with not being liked. It's not the greatest feeling, but I accept it. Not everyone has to like who I am or what I write. "Well if you were just more humble," or "if you were more self-depricating," or "if you didn't take yourself so seriously" or "if you laughed at yourself more and weren't so self-absorbed," or "if you weren't so fat with a big forehead."
**
If.
**
If I cared that much about what some stranger behind a cloak of anonymity had to say, I wouldn't write anything honest. I'd care so much,and be so afraid of not being liked that I just wouldn't write it. Clearly I don't care all that much or my writing would have changed. I'd begin to poke fun at myself more, down play things, act. And it is brave to keep doing it with all the shit I take. It would be easier to stop, or to adjust and cater. I'm not about easier. We're not put here to live an easy life. We're here to learn, I think, to grow. To overcome fears. I'm not afraid of being hated. I don't particularly enjoy it, but I'm well aware that the more visible one becomes, the more people will be vocal about loving and hating who they are, what they stand for, or how they wear their hair. The minute I fear how someone will respond to something I write is the moment where I'll stop being completely honest. And for what? Fear of what? Not being liked? Believe me, I've been rejected enough times in life, for just being me, that I'm not about to let some anonymous clump change who I am, or how proud I've become of myself. And I am proud. I've been rejected by lovers, bosses, sororities, and The Wasband. Bloggers who comment, who either have or have not ever met me, are the least of it.

Connection & Choices

My friend T is beautiful. She is selfless in a way that is inspiring. I was glad that we took the time to have dinner tonight at Real Food Daily. She has a very close relationship with her family (mom, dad and brother). She decided early on that her family is the number one priority in her life. She has never forgotten her family’s love and generosity as that is always in her heart. T inspires me.

I told her that while I love my family my relationship with them isn’t close-knit anymore. I talk to my parents once a week if it’s a good week and maybe once a month with my brother. I had every excuse in the book: my parents and I have nothing in common, it can be awkward and strained, my mom can be negative, everyone is busy… ya da ya da ya da. Talking with T, I realized that it doesn’t matter what my excuses are, I can make the effort to have an authentic relationship with my family.

I told T that during the holidays I was chilling with my brother and things were different. He’s met a girl and told me that he may want to marry her. He was different. He’s changed. Things were awkward. It wasn’t like old times -- taking drives in CT smoking cigs, listening to music and just feeling connected. I don’t love my brother less but my relationship is different. I was hurt that while I was in the Bay I had to reach out to him and that he didn’t try to reach out to me. T explained that it doesn’t matter if he or my parents never reciprocate or give back what I give them b/c what matters is my effort.

When I die, I want to go with a clear conscience that I tried my entire life to build a strong relationship with my family. A realization hit me that I could start that today. So, I called my home at 11 pm on my drive home from Santa Monica to talk to my mom. At first our conversation was awkward and then it became easy. My dad is in the hospital, I just found out tonight from my mom. I’m going to pick up the phone first thing tomorrow and call him and tell him I love him. I don’t want him to die and have regrets.

UPDATE: Talked to dad, hells yes, no effing cancer!!!! he thinks.

As T said eloquently, you’ll never get another family, don’t take it for granted. I love you mom, dad & A.

Private Affair

It has been exactly one month since I was at the OBGYN and received confirmation via vaginal ultra-sound that my baby died. Thanks to loved ones and all of your support I have been able to bear this pain. There are days where my heart is heavy and sadness comes over me that I can’t shake. Those are they days that I just want to curl up in my bed under a thick blanket.

Mourning a miscarriage is a private affair. I feel like I lost a baby, a baby that I deeply wanted. This baby was more than a mass of cells to me. I would have been at the end of my first trimester. I hope this gets easier.

Love

Carrie Bradshaw said it best:

....I'm looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.

.....There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

Carrie Bradshaw I love you. And I agree with this chica, if you're going to find love with either a husband/partner/significant other, let it be like the love so eloquently described by Ms. Bradshaw. Why settle for anything less?

Does Every Couple Think This?

This weekend was divinely delicious (minus hubby having to go to the office on Saturday). We escaped the City on Sunday morning and trekked to Santa Barbara, holding hands and enjoying its beauty while being in our own lovie-dovie world. Unfortunately on Monday hubby had to work from home; however, I simply enjoy being in his company even if he is working. There is a kind of joy having the comfort and ease to be at home while both of us are doing are own thing (especially because there are kissing, cuddling and sex breaks).

Don’t get me wrong, I was happy before I met hubby (I had and still have an amazing circle of friends). But these 2 and ½ years of marriage have brought me happiness that I didn’t realize was possible. It is very difficult to put into words why hubby’s love puts me in a tizzy of divine pleasure because it is so intangible.

Almost daily I think either to myself or out loud to hubby, “seriously is it possible for people to be happier or more in love than us?” [Meaning, how the f*uck did we get so lucky. In my sick mind, when will the Universe screw me over?] He shakes his head no and kisses me. Do all couples think this?

Dinner Parties Make Me Infinitely Happy

There really is no better combination then good food, good friends and some bubbly. Seriously. I have invited 3 girlfriends for bellinis and Indian food while watching our favorite Ugly Betty & Grey's Anatomy. I freaking love making food and sharing it with friends. My entrees have been cooked (saag paneer, eggplant bharta, chana masala & vegetable curry) and the bubbly is chilling in the fridge. All that I have to do is cook some basmati rice, puree peach for my bellinis and get dressed!

Now this is life!

Lollicup

Lollicup makes me happy. Drinking a taro tea snow or an iced lychee tea with boba or bubbles is divine. I am in love with Boba (a chewey tapioca ball) that you slurp up with a gigantic straw.

Lollicup (with wireless) is in my neck of the woods. Bring on the boba.

HOT TIP OF THE DAY: If you're ever in San Francisco I recommend you hit Yoogo Gelato -- simply the best boba EVER. Yoogo Gelato also has Asian flavoried gelato -- yum.

Why Mondays Suck

I hate my job and detest Mondays because I have 4 hellish workdays remaining until the weekend. I live for Thursdays (my off day) and the weekends.

This was my day:

• Wake up at 6 AM
• Tie hair back, put on some eyeliner and lipstick (no time for mascara today)
• Arrive at work at 7:30 AM
• Balance a bijillion cases and deal with annoying ass people
• Leave work at 6:15 PM
• Rush to get to the gym for a 6:30 PM weights class
• Head over to Trader Joe’s to do grocery shopping around 7:45 PM
• Hit LA traffic to get home and arrive at my casa at 9 PM
• Haul 6 bags of groceries to my apartment.
• Heat up eggplant parmesans for my FIRST MEAL of the day.
• Talk to Roonie. Consider doing my film work but decide against it.
• Take shower at 10:30 PM

Where the hell is time for fun??? Where? Hanging out with friends in person? Reading a book? Cooking dinner?

I have no time. The work week purely sucks ass. When I have kids I will NOT work. Yes, you fuckin’ heard me. I am not looking to be Super Mom or Super Anyone. I just want to be a mellow chic who has the time to f*uck her husband like crazy and throw dinner parties.

Friends from the East Coast

I had friends from the East Coast (one from DC and one from Boston) visit me and it was fun -- the retelling of old stories and creating new memories to share. Also, living in LA I don't too often do the "tourist" stuff, so this was a great opportunity for me to enjoy LA in way I rarely do.

Here a few snippets from the trip:

• Drinking strawberry bellinis at The Standard
• Shopping on Melrose, the Grove & Rodeo Drive
• Enjoying delicious Jewish deli food at Cantor's on Pico -- who can resist an egg cream?
• Lunching at the Beverly Hills Hotel
• Ice cream sandwiches at Didi Reese in Westwood
• Actually enjoying the beautiful beaches.
• People watching in Venice
• Soul food at Roscoe's House of Chicken 'n Waffles

Good times were had. I really do love Los Angeles. It is a beautiful city. Nothing beats waking up to 75 degree weather on a January morning.