I wanted to write a blog post about how from a young age I've sympathized with women who kill their husbands but then I reconsidered it because that kind of thing might get this popsicle stand piccolo in a lot of trouble ! Maybe I'm paranoid because last week I posted a picture of my dad on facebook and he got supar mad at me. He was sitting in this reclining chair that he sits in with a tv remote, a small bowl of chanachur and some scotch. My mom was in the kitchen doing something near the sink and there was probably some Mitt Romney v Obama shit in the air because of the tv. Maybe I got girlchild issues but something about this reads a bit like the non-calm before a domestic violence episode, no? My dad had recently been sporting this blue shirt and so I captioned the pic "Spotted: a smurf in his natural habitat." I guess I made a joke of it because sometimes I want to bond with the same person who once tried to make me feel bad about buying tampons in front of him. I showed him the picture being like 'lololo dad' and immediately he got sososososo mad at me - which is a good male chauvinisty way of reminding your daughter that *you* get to make the decision about what is fun and what is scarymisery. Partially I felt bad and respectful of his anger so I took it down. He yelled at me saying that, "Fun is for inside the home!" and I mean lez be real what's more fun inside the home than that disciplinary moment when family fun becomes Awful Hopeless Never-Ending Labyrinth of an Evening Inside the Home? This isn't even like fun on opposite day. To ride the waves of my cyber dwelling, I think it might be a sort of time machine sadness. Looks like this blawg is getting very eeyore today, hmmm? Not having as much Hajmola Chewing Fun inside the home, you say?? Well - to invoke something Kuzhali Manickavel once hashtagged - #chee on your face if you thought that hajmola chewing was actually a fun thing to do because this blog post is not really about fun (and it's definitely not about killing dudez).
"Children are getting their parents in trouble through Facebook! What if your brother becomes President?"
^another something that was said to me during smurf pic wincident. 'What If Your Brother Becomes President' must be the most aggressively boring prediction ever and I think it is suppose to somehow control my reckless girlchild behavior which is very hehehe. I feel inclined to use valley gyrl swag when talking about it because gender struggles between brown peoples can be sooooo complicated especially if one is tired of giving elegant psychological fux about how brown men benefit from the oppression of brown women. It seems like difficult questions about compromise are tew ~feminine energy~ when the more controlling question is Waddif Like Your Brother Becomes President?? I am suppose to feel bad about messing up my brother's non-existent illustrious career and for that reason this blog is totes not one of those blogs that sympathizes with women who defend themselves. Maybe it is like the lying-naked-on-the-floor natalie imbruglia version of a misandry blog. slow death = ± defeat ± defeat ± defeat
And tbh I didn't really know how to do the topic that this blog post is definitely not about any justice. Probably because killin dudes is not really a basis for comparison. Again, to irresponsibly quote Tavia Nyong'o: "it is less a question of choosing failure killing men than choosing what to do with the failure gratuitous bullshit that has chosen us." I almost deleted this post because of other dilemmas that came up when I was writing about definitely not writing about it. I've once again 'disloyally' re-presented my father which means that even when it comes to power dynamics, his legacy is getting more mic time than the relationship between me and my mother. Which btw is not analogous even though I just framed it like it was. Friendly reminder that you shouldn't try an double check the math in any equations I use on this blog. I will not feel disappointed by a grim popsicle stick joke that was frontin like it could be mathy. I will just laugh really horrendo in your face like someone who doesn't care about mastering how to write a blog post about--
This week's popsicle assembly marks my first full month of living at home with my family and maintaining high levels of time machine realness!! For example I'm still trying to get over my MSNBC hangover from last week. Or for instance sometimes when my mom asks me to put away the dishes I feel hectic lethargy from the mere thought of organizing the utensils, just like when I was a kidster - is poetry no? Like gewd indian garl I've been keeping shop at my family's indian sweet store and bringing jalebis and masala chai (don't tellum it's Lipton luls) to the people/paying customers. I do very well behind the counter as a part time samosa fryer, part time hajmola chewing bad attitude biotch, and am gaining some notoriety amongst the south asian strip mall frequenters. Particularly inspired by these queer bully bloggers, I write this post to simply acknowledge my preference for failure and also give cheers to a promiscuous life of in-home living and destabilized independence.
"it is less a question of choosing failure than choosing what to do with the failure that has chosen us" - Tavia Nyong'o
Sometimes I want to repeat this quote when the uncles come around askin what my "5 year plan" is and how I will get the success. "Oh so you are interested in Wimmins Rights? Will you be doing Public Policy? Law eschool?" I don't know how often this happens to people who study gender in the U.S. but I'm beginning to think that there's a poorly ventilated rumor going around that women's studies means we sit around all day ruminating over how American women make 70 cents to the dollar. For some reason whenever anything Hillary Clinton-related comes up my dad looks to me for shared acknowledgement over his #1 white lady love in a post-Princess Di era. I made the mistake of breaking this news to my mom and she cut her eyes at me! Oh noes, are yew cutting your eyes at me too?? I like this quote from Tavia Nyong'o because I think it helps me clear up some confusion around my life goals and dweams and what it means to not have many professional steaks but stakes nonetheless. If you are more interested in success stories, allow me to redirect you to here.
Recently I had to look up what the U.S. holiday July 4th was actually about besides exotic star spangled car dealership commercials and this is what the US government website said: "On this day in 1776, the Declaration of Independence was approved by the Continental Congress, setting the 13 colonies on the road to freedom as a sovereign nation. As always, this most American of holidays will be marked by parades, fireworks and backyard barbecues across the country." Honestly I do not know what "sovereign" means just like I don't know what "excellence" means except that people use it a lot like it means something. Anyways moraloftheangst is that my parents are throwing a barbecue birthday party for Amrika and inviting all their brown frands so it is going to be looking bengali american dreamz up in here tomorrow night. Now that I've complained, is that gonna stop me from gettin down with some potato salad?? However in preparation, I read this piece on How To Write About Pakistan in order to inform party guests that I think that they are doing it wrong and supar racisty also.
Moving along, I came across this interview with Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak which includes a pic of her making an awesome face but also answering the question, "How do you see yourself? As an Indian or someone from America?" by failing to answer the question and even seeming totes bored by it:
"I don’t really know. I don’t know how a person actually thinks an identity. I think it’s probably something that came about from this process of national liberation. You were thinking that you belonged to this nation and that you should be free but I am truly not very concerned about questioning myself about my identity and so on, so I can’t give u a fully-fledged answer to this question. I think one manufactures a stereotype for oneself and I don’t think that’s a very interesting thing one’s own stereotype about oneself, so I don’t spend very much time thinking about it."
Yay to GCS for failing both Indian identity and American identity and failing the eclipsing cultures question very well. I decided to misuse it by reflecting on the stereotype I have of myself as a Leo (Pisces rising!) which is a fairly authoritative thing that I happen to think about a lot. I will probably still keep thinking about it seriously especially if it makes me look irrational and like I practice lite witchcraft.
Did this blog post really have a point? What is the need to be so self-referential? Y ur not protesting potato salad??? Is just sucha promiscuous life, y'all.
