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...which is truly surprising, since I have had little to no exposure to either Malayalam or Tamil music. The end reminds me of one of the most adorable pictures I have ever seen on Fotolog, which was posted by Wincy, when her eldest was about a year old. :)
I heart memorable baby pictures. I don't mind my recent immersion in to fobulousness, either. ;) We'll make an yauthentic Malayalee penne out of me yet!
Since most people leave "fake email addresses" (which I have no quibble with), I am publishing this here, where I know it will be read by my intended recipient. I am also attempting to send it via the email which they left. Yes, I find this person's comments that unsettling.
::
Ellen:
I deleted your last comment, because it bothered me.
Look, the phrasing and certain terms you use sound exactly like an extremely creepy ex- who stalked me for a bit...obviously if I'm writing this to you, it's because I'm 51% sure that you are NOT him and that such things are all just an unfortunate coincidence.
There is a second issue: everything you type somehow emanates from a different IP address, each time, which usually points to trolling. Combine that with your...unique comments and I'm not sure what to make of all this. My inner idealist is hoping you are a real person, because the last thing I need is a new troll, but using words like "entourage" to describe decent people or talking about how "several people" whom you know have met me and think _____ about me, makes me wonder otherwise.
If you have issues with me, you can email me. I don't have a ton of time, but I will try and respond promptly. Only trolls feel the need to stage public interventions via my comments section, purportedly for my own sake or benefit. If you don't need an audience for whatever it is you are doing, then I'm tempted to think you are genuine.
It is disheartening that I must state this, obviously and explicitly, but I don't require that all the comments left on my diary be sycophantic or in lock step agreement with me. But this is my diary and therefore the most personal blog I keep. All I ask is that the comments which people leave be civil and NOT freak me out. It's not too much to want.
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Well, look what I received, in the time it took me to post this...
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem <mailer-daemon@googlemail.com>
This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Technical details of permanent failure:
PERM_FAILURE: SMTP Error (state 16): 554 delivery error: dd Sorry your message to rockchick@yahoo.com cannot be delivered. This account has been disabled or discontinued [#102]. - mta228.mail.re3.yahoo.com
young
looks pretty
excellent clarity
off-dry, thought it would be sweeter
leggy!
surprising length
pleasant aroma
balanced
bright
swoon-worthy capsule, tried to macro it, it was that appealing.
beautiful label.
attention-getting finish
::
well worth the price, which was a whopping FIVE dollars.
This super-cute picture is from last week, but I just got around to uploading it. S, the woman in the middle, is moving away from D.C. and I wanted to make sure I saw her before she left. :(
The other fantabulous female is my cousin. We still haven't figured out how we're cousins exactly, but that's fine, because it's one of my favorite running jokes at this point. Besides, it doesn't matter because we have a few Thirumenis between us, and that's all Mallus care about, right? ;)
The only negative aspect of leaving the house and being social is the concept of "payback", which reminds me of one of my sorority sisters who had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. She seemed "normal", if a bit low-key, but if she pushed herself and was more active on one day, she "paid" for it the next by suffering from extra exhaustion; the whole cycle left her depressed and fretful about doing much of anything. Two days after this picture was taken, I was having problems walking.
It's hard to balance what you want with what you need, and I'm still bitter that I missed the New York meetup on Saturday, especially since I was supposed to co-host it. But I knew I had no choice. This picture was taken just a few miles from my house, at a relatively chill, accessible place...it's quite a different story to trek out almost 600 miles and lurch around what is apparently a very narrow bar with a terrible bathroom. How do I know or why do I think that? Let's just say that I wish I had never read the Yelp reviews...they convinced me that me and my fakakta cast wouldn't be comfortable at Verlaine.
Worse than that, I finally accepted that because of my current physical issues, I will not be going home for the wedding of one of my oldest, dearest childhood friends this week. I've been looking forward to some Northern California for months now and I'm dejected that the last time I was able to go home, it was last September.
A year. It's been a year. If you had told me at one point, that I would only sleep in my childhood bed or see my Godsons ONCE a year, I would've frowned and told you that you were an idiot. I used to go home every few months. But, I was also in school. Or serendipitously between jobs. This is the part of being a "grown-up" which I loathe, the distance from my loved ones and my erstwhile home. The reality of a finite amount of leave, which I've blown through much of, thanks to bronchitis earlier this year and now this ankle-clusterfuck. My desire to do so is irrelevant, I cannot go home, no matter how wistful I am.
I know I did the "right" thing and put my $#@%&?$# ankle first, but that doesn't mean I'm not pouting about it. Sigh. Ten days 'til my MRI...and actual information. I miss being able to move, I miss feeling independent and fearless. I miss having muscles in my legs which rippled just slightly vs. dimples and smoosh. I miss everything and for now, there isn't a damned thing I can do about it.
There was an impromptu fotolog meetup in Georgetown on Saturday evening. Everyone was kind enough to indulge my picky eating habits by choosing to go Italian; we had dinner at Paparazzi (where the Panzanella salad was so good, I was craving it today). That was followed by a slightly awkward/painful limp down Wisconsin to go to Sequoia. Sibil helped steady me the whole time, and if this were an SATC episode, now would be one of those moments when something vaguely profound is said via Carrie's voiceover...kinda like the moment Miranda followed Charlotte home: "Charlotte never turned around...but she knew Miranda was behind her."
Can you tell that I've just watched 3 eps of that show? :)
Anyway, Sequoia was unbelievably rude and much to everyone's surprise and disappointment, unwilling to accomodate the temporarily handicapped. We were willing to sit down, order food, whatever it took, but they weren't having it. Finally, we asked if there was an extra chair somewhere out of the way where *I* could sit, while everyone else enjoyed the Sequoia "experience" standing, and I do believe this is the moment I was told, "look, please don't give me a hard time about this. There's nothing I can do." Right, because I'm inconveniencing you and giving YOU a hard time by having this annoying cast on my leg...sad to say, I run in to that assholey sentiment almost daily, which is awesome.
We waited for Cousin Lisa to retrieve her brother, whom I finally met for the first time and then I insisted we go elsewhere...so to Mate we went. Or limped, rather. I got a seat at the bar, and we were all relieved that we had found a place to finally relax and enjoy ourselves. I slurped some of the best drinks I've ever had in D.C. while laughing uncontrollably for the rest of the night. An hour or so in, when the manager came by and said, "I'm going to have to ask for that chair", I replied, "May I keep it? My leg is in a cast-" and he waved me off, shook his head and said, "Of course! Don't worry. There are others. I hadn't seen the cast until now." I'm not asking for a ton, Sequoia. And Mate is way nicer than you (in every possible way) and they were way nicer to me, so to quote Dooce or Will and Grace or someone white and funny, SUCK ON IT.
We had the most amazing time, as evidenced above, in my favorite picture of the night. :) I love these girls and when I found out that they were coming down from NYC and Philly, I thought it was the least I could do to schlep myself over to wherever they were-- and I'm very glad I did. I haven't had fun like that in quite a while, in part because of my %$#$#% leg.
I'll be honest, there was a physical sort of cost, and I had to nap the entire day away (I'm not used to all that walking, with this heavy black boot, for one thing), but every time I woke up, there was a huge smile on my face and another memory of outrageously good times surfacing within. I'll gladly have an "unproductive" Sunday when gifted with all that, and like most sane people, I'll choose laughter over laundry, every time.
So, the other day...I scribbled this, mostly as a note to myself (this is my diary and that's what I use it for):
I just found out that Ann Coulter is also a Delta Gamma alum.
I don't love my sorority any less, but I can hardly bear the thought that Ann Coulter and I are...sisters. Lord, help me.
Someone who lives up to their handle, who has never commented here before, left me the following sweetness:
Comments
Younever talk about any of your sorority sister friends (if you had any), and at your age isn't it time to get over the whole "I'm a sorority girl" thing? P.S. I'm desi and was in a sorority too.
Natale the green and red betta has finished his antibiotics. :)
His hospital tank no longer looks like an old-skool toilet filled with blue water (remember 2000 flushes?); the medicine looked like blue ink and it dyed the water the same color as the lid-- but it worked. I think the fin rot has stopped and he's perky and swimming around. Yay! That cheap weird stuff saved two out of my three fishies! Go toilet cleaner! ;)
Yesterday, IALI was concomitantly exhilarating and exhausting...but all amazing events are. The media panel I spoke on was lively and there were so many Qs waiting for our As, we ran out of time, which is always nicer than hearing crickets.
I got to meet Suja Lowenthal, who was my girl crush back in '01 when I was writing my thesis-- and I hung out with Manish "Vig's" college friend Mini Timmaraju...our table at the banquet at Indique Heights was hilarious and dravidian-- Andhra, Kerala and Half of TN reprazent (well, one of us was a Pallakad Iyer...whose family is split between both states). Anyway, it was a blast and the food was decent-- but it was hot. We were out on the terrace and it's August. That was...fun. ;)
I enjoyed myself so much, I started to wonder why I left politics...then I remembered how much I like being able to pay my rent and how I love my current job and I was all, "eh". Could've, would've, should've. :)
I'm so surprised and dismayed, I'm unable to type efffectively...
I just found out that Ann Coulter is also a Delta Gamma alum.
Oy.
I don't love my sorority any less, but I can hardly bear the thought that Ann Coulter and I are...sisters. Lord, help me.
Since I am still quite acquainted with the four hazelnut martinis I had last night/in the wee hours of the morning (wOOt, flog meetups!), I'll engage in the entirely futile exercise of trying to address this contemptuous query. Hey, why not...I can't sleep, I need to hydrate, and focusing on potential haterade (RIP Barmaid) distracts me from my pounding headache. Goooooo hangover! Yay!
IF I had any? That's kind. I don't know if you're a new reader or just randomly passing through, but I'll say this for the benefit of the former; longtime stalkers know that there is a lot I don't talk about (80%), so I wouldn't base any assumptions on merely what is read (20%).
At MY age? Even kinder.
I'm not sure what your sorority experience was like, and I'm genuinely sad that it obviously wasn't as meaningful for you, as evidenced by your...well, everything, but from moment one, we were told that this wasn't a four (or five) year commitment; this was a lifelong relationship. When we bought our pins, we were reminded that our daughters would be legacies, and they'd inherit whatever we chose.
That's why we regularly recognize people who've been DGs for 60, 70 years or more. At their age, from your not-at-all-judgmental perspective, shouldn't they get over it?
I mean, I know, I'm SO ancient at all at 32, but fuck...those women are almost 80!
There are women in my building who didn't realize that I am an alum, until they ran in to me in our elevator and asked where I got my anchor flip-flops or shirt and vise-versa. They are white, though, so perhaps it's different, and they're allowed to not be "over the whole thing".
I'm tempted to ask if you were in a panhellenic sorority or a newer, local, multicultural house...but then I remember my friend S, who was in a Desi sorority. She's not over it, either. If one did leave it in college, where you seem to think it belongs, then by definition, it wouldn't help you network professionally or academically-- which is what most Alums on the other side of sorority life enjoy. I wouldn't have had the internships, job offers or access to a certain Senator I've enjoyed over the years, if I were "over it".
Beyond all of that, which I now feel like I wasted my time explaining mostly because people who leave drive-by comments aren't interested in actual dialogue, may I ask, why do you care? Or more accurately, why do you care enough to be so negative about it: "never", "if you had any", "at your age", "get over"? And what does your postscript about being Desi have to do with it? Like I'd find it less or more obnoxious if that comment came from a white, black or purple person?
To each their own. I love DG and like any heart-equipped person would, I'm still nonplussed that Coulter and I are sisters, by any definition of the word.