Orlantha

This is so sad: http://niralimagazine.com/2007/03/orlantha-ambrose/

I haven't had Internet access at home over the last few weeks, so having some spare time today I was browsing online and came upon a familiar name from a long time ago on Nirali, a South Asian online mag. Many years ago, I had a work study job at Mar Vista's Walgrove Avenue Elementary School as a teaching assistant. I got to know Orlantha there and always liked her. We would talk about stuff we had in common like growing up as immigrants in Cali. I can't believe she passed away two years ago and this is the first I've heard of it. May she rest in peace.

Gordon ain't no Charlie Brown

On Friday, I was invited to attend a focus group on health issues
through a research company that recruits people for these purposes.
Little did I know that the meeting would end up being a media circus.
Most times, you go to these things and are just grateful they have
free coffee. I was certainly not expecting to see three ministers in
attendance, including Gordon Brown (Tony Blair's soon to be successor
in the Labour Party). Of course we were not told that this was the
kind of event it was going to be for security reasons, but what was
really strange, I thought, was that they did not do a security check
on us - That would never be the case in the States! Anyway, right
before we went in to the room where we were to have the discussion,
an advisor from the National Consumer Council was talking to me and
asked what I was expecting from the event. Confessing that I did not
know what to expect given that we had been told so little in advance,
he explained that the purpose of the gathering was to advise Brown
about the public's views on health so as to influence the upcoming
budget (Brown is in charge of finances). I asked when the budget was
going to be released and I was told it would be the coming Wednesday.
This made me respond, "Uh, so in other words, nothing we say makes a
difference because the budget's already set if it's coming out in a
few days." The advisor just smiled and walked away. Gordon Brown
decided to sit right next to me during the discussion. He had bad
breath. Knowing that this was just a big PR stunt, when Brown asked
for our thoughts on the upcoming smoking ban (smoking is to be banned
in most public places come June), I responded by saying that I
thought that it was great, but they needed something to replace
cigarette smoking and that legalizing marijuana would be a good
alternative. Brown pretended not to hear me. However, if on Wednesday
there is an announcement that the budget has been altered to include
changes in the status of cannabis, you'll know who was responsible...

Absinthe makes the Heart

Do you ever feel like you’ve walked into an emotional minefield? That no matter what you say or do the other person is going to find a way to recast the die and change the rules yet again? This is not to shirk responsibility but to step back and realize that perhaps the other person has shirked theirs and that the game playing stops when you drop the rules of engagement by not engaging at all.

A wise friend once said when between two people chose not to engage the topic of conversation that is going to be the cause of disruption. In her case, she was referring to a friend who was having an affair. It wasn’t that Jhaney disproved of the affair itself but of the person her friend was having the affair with. Her friend one day asked, “How come you never ask me about [her manfriend]?” Jhaney responded that in order for them to remain friends that could no longer be the topic of conversation.

I find myself in a similar situation. I refuse to decide who is right or wrong because that is so easily decided. In equal parts. In both cases. And I am not going to say I am not guilty either. But I also refuse to be held responsible for separating out what I should or should not do to someone if situation A arises while also keeping in mind that in case of situation B the rules change again and that I should be mentally aware that said change could occur at anytime. And here I thought that I had a life to live.

It’s impossible not to tread on someone’s toes at one time or the other. Yes, we should always be aware to avoid such possibilities and learn from our mistakes. However, to accept no complicity, to reimagine the hurt, and to hold on to it with no desire to forgive or to change because the injured party feels not only supremely but also SOLELY wronged is selfish and equally hurtful.

This made me Sick

Give up your kidney for less time in jail? Just goes to show how messed up the prison industrial complex is.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/us_and_americas/article1495073.ece

John Inman

One could do enough with the wordplay (Inman, in the closet, and so on), but I like how this article addresses Inman's legacy with respect and reflects on the cultural history of that legacy.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/matthew_parris/article1494961.ece

Browned Out

It's a sad day when the only tribute the Grammy's can manage for the late James Brown is a song by Christina Aguilera and then parading his cloak on stage. I bet he's doing the splits in his grave...

More here: http://www.wsbtv.com/news/10985920/detail.html

Drunk off Others

Last night, I took on a job I found on Craigslist. I was hired to bartend at a private party in the upmarket neighbourhood of Bayswater. I had, till then, only spoken to my employer on the phone and from our conversation knew that he was American and cheap. His party was to begin at “9:30 or 10:00,” he said. “Ok, I’ll be there at 9:00,” I offered. “No, 9:45 should be fine.” Ok…

It really wasn’t. The party had already somewhat begun and the area that was meant to be the bar was chaotic. I was seized by the double terror of wondering how I was going to cope and that I was going to be discovered as a fraud. You see, when you need money, you might say you’ll do anything. Even make a cosmo. Now, how do you that… Fortunately, the drink orders were simple and I did have some past experience in working at parties, both at home and professionally.

“Hi,” someone said.

I responded cheerily, “Hi! What would you like?”

The person, a bit flummoxed, responded, “Umm…. You’re making drinks?”

“Sure. I’m the bartender,” I offered.

“Do you live here?”

I said, “Yes, in London.”

“No, I meant in the building. Like … are you a guest at this party.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m the bartender,” I said once again. “I was hired to be here,” I added to make sure to get my point across.

“Oh, that’s like…. Like will you be able to party if you want to?”

“What would you like to drink?”

“Vodka tonic, please.”

“Sure! Coming up!”

Later…

“So, what do you do when you’re not doing this?”

“I’m a student.”

“Really?!” There was that unmistakable slurring quality to the voice.

“What are you studying?”

“Postcolonial Literature.”

“What’s that?”

“Ummm...”

Now how do you explain that to a drunk white liberal? First they want to be all “down” with the help, like they understand where you’re coming from, but then they’re surprised that maybe you have some independent life outside of your service job. To be honest, I’m sure I’ve been guilty of behaving the same way. So, it was interesting to observe this phenomenon from the outside, so that I learn to check that same impulse in myself. Seeing people slowly climb up that ladder of drunkenness, their thin veil of magnanimity slipping away, their elitism tearing through as they try to stabilize themselves, is interesting. When they would first ask you to pour them a “white wine, please,” later it’s “I said Absolut, NOT Smirnoff.”

An Asian American woman who was downing shots of vodka, tequila, and bourbon like there was no tomorrow left her Malaysian friend, a law student, on her own, while she was being pawed by this white American dude who kept plying her with drinks and at one point asked me if I had Coke. “Sure,” I said, reaching for the bottle. “No, no. I meant cocaine.” Anyway, the Malaysian woman says to me, “Man, I’d much rather talk to you than these crazy Americans. Where are you from? I have a friend from the Seychelles, too!” Ok… “I’m from LA,” I said. “Umm… but you’re not like these people.” Thank you, I think. She had to run, though, because her friend had that look on her face. You know – that one right before you’re saying hello to the porcelain telephone? The white guy and his other white American friends were heard to be saying, “Man, we’re all adults, you know?” and “Someone should hold her hair back.”

I was right about cheap, the guy paid me at the end of the night without a tip.

t day

Thanksgiving and Halloween are my favourite American holidays. I think it’s because, unlike Christmas or New Year’s, I haven’t had as much time to associate ambivalent or even painful memories with those occasions. As with most festive occasions, particularly when you’re younger, there’s always that high level of expectation that is not met with fulfilment, leaving you feeling deflated…for years to come! I’m not quite sure what it is – Is it the internalization of all the images of Westernized Christmases complete with happy plump white children under perfectly trimmed and decorated trees, surrounded by presents, rosily lit from soft light above as seen from the frosted panes of a window (yes – very Hallmark!) or as heard of in a Jim Reeves’ Christmas song? Or was it the fact that I missed so many holiday seasons with my family or that when I did have them they were overshadowed by regretful recollections or all of us being overworked by having to host whomever my dad roped in to celebrate with us? Who knows?

But with Halloween and Thanksgiving, as commercialised as they too are, I’ve had to make new memories. I remember staying with my soon to be married cousin during my first year in the States and to commemorate the impending occasion of his marriage, I carved up two jack-o-lanterns, the first time I’d ever done this, and dressed them up as a bride and groom. My cousin wasn’t too tickled. At that same cousin’s place, I also had my first Thanksgiving and helped his fiancé cook the near-50 pound turkey. We had waited hours for it to defrost, and when this was done (or so we thought), she inserted her hand into it to retrieve the giblets, but when she pulled it out the turkey corpse made this pronounced farting sound and instead of giblets, a large chunk of ice emerged! Ahh… memories! Ha ha! One of the funniest stories I heard that day was from a friend who recalled her first Thanksgiving. She was so excited to cook the usual favourites: Green bean casserole, yams, and so on. Her mom was responsible for the centrepiece of the meal – the turkey… which her mom, never having cooked turkey before, had cooked up tandoori style. Though my friend was extremely upset over this (“Mom,” she said, it’s an American holiday!), I reckoned that the turkey probably at least had some flavour that way.

So to all my homies in the US of A, I’m thinking of you today. Wish you a warm Thanksgiving with bowed heads to our Native American brethren and sistren and with Tribe’s “Ham ‘n’ Eggs” in the background – Love ya!