Old Bitches, New Tricks, Paths Revealed

(I do love coming up with interesting titles for my blogs. I like to imagine it's close to click-bait and also full disclosure, the pic above isn't one I took so I don't own it.) 

What seemed decades ago, a boss to me: You should consider management seriously.

Me: As a profession? Yeah, no thanks, I will end up killing someone.

Ex-Boss: You're actually good with people. Maybe you'd maim, but no more.

Me: I think I'll stay where I am, happy and secure and not tempting a stint wearing orange, which is not a flattering color on me.

Me 2020 version: *After deciding to get certified in management; beginning to take classes to prepare for the exam...screams into the void...* OMG I'M DUMBER THAN DIRT AND WILL FAIL SO BADLY THAT I'LL REDEFINE THE VERY MEANING OF FAILING!

Me 2021 version: *After lots of roadblocks the first attempt I think, maybe, possibly, this shiz is sinking in and I'll maybe not fail as badly as I initially thought*

I don't know about any of you out there but personally, I suck at classroom/formalized learning. Distraction is probably my worst enemy as well as a good dose of natural antsiness. I can't sit still to save my life (unless I'm reading although I can walk and read at the same time since my peripheral is pretty epic) or do one thing at one time. I am compelled, always, to be doing a few things in concordance to one other, probably in the process, not doing any of it very well. But that's just how my brain seems to function. 

When in school, I was a solid "C" student (nope, not ashamed of admitting this). Sometimes I got worse, mostly in any sort of math, and sometimes I killed it, usually in the realm of English or the arts. Of course, this all flies in the face of my brownness where I should (generalization alert!!!) have been getting straight A's in anything that had to do with numbers or equations so that I would become a doctor or engineer. That didn't happen, much to my parent's everlasting regret. 

Couple the zero knack for calculating with the inability to sit still and the result is no real success to be had in the traditional school environment. Still, I had hope that my lovely personality alone would get me into a good college (I did go to college and it still shocks me that with my sad SAT scores I got into anywhere) and after that? I had the absolute gal to dream of law school but with an overall lowish GPA and LSAT scores which weren't quite abysmal but not awesome, that idea was dropped. Instead, I went on to be a paralegal/legal assistant at some big named law firms. I was good at that profession. In fact, I kicked some major bootay; where I picked up on management skills as I was a part of the Antitrust practice groups where we handled, specifically, mergers and acquisitions. 

I almost reluctantly admit that I'm not much of a go-getter. Things fall into my lap or a direction is often just there, and I take it. I work hard, don’t misunderstand me, but probably when it comes to advancement, I don't work as hard as I could/should. I watch others around me taking classes, reading self-help books, attend motivational courses, really dive deep into figuring out the next phases of their life while I sit around wondering why I would even bother when I'm comfortable. 

I should change the word comfortable to ‘a minion of the devil’ because when I get too much into this state of mind of contentment, it’s utter inertia. I will do everything in my power to not disturb it. Nothing can get me out in this thought process unless it’s a huge life event.

Also, let me just say that there's nothing wrong with comfort. Nothing at all. Isn’t that what most folks are just simply striving to do? I think so, but it’s problematic when it becomes a way of life that lulls you into a belief that that’s all there is to life and that nothing else matters hence no new challenges, no new adventures, no new…nothing really. For me, what I really didn't consider was that maybe I would benefit from something more?

To explain, in context, the kind of person I really am. A person said to someone I'm close to, "she may not be terribly active or do much but when she does, she really is pretty amazing."

The first time I heard this I was completely insulted, outraged even, and had I pearls on? I would have sure been clutching them. However, it took 5 short minutes to realize that the comment wasn't completely off the mark. Can't hide from yourself, kiddos, even while you try to fool everyone else. And I am not an advocate of pulling the wool over my own eyes about myself hence why I can admit that I feel like I'm legendary in my sheer laziness. Likely my biggest nemesis, I've tried to slay this particular dragon so many times. Now, I'm still lazy as the day is long, if I have the opportunity, I'll chose to do anything but what I should be doing but I'm doing a bit better with it.

Now imagine the person I just described as the same who is presently working towards getting certified, in anything, other than a slug? Yet here I am, with eyes bleeding, gazing out windows wistfully, sobbing internally as I relearn to study, educate myself, immerse. And in the process of this, I've wondered if I'm not just really setting myself up for some big huge honking fail. I mean that literally: fail the exam which is 4 agonizing hours long. 

It was told to me that this certification shouldn't be taken lightly, that it's really, really hard (as if 1 really wouldn't have been enough for me to get it) and that it required lots of study time. I damn near broke into hives when I heard this. Yuck…studying. In the past as I asked supervisors if it would be a good idea to go for it, I usually clung to those who said, "no, it's not necessary" while dismissing those who said it would definitely be beneficial long term. What the hell did they know anyhow?

So how did I eventually get here?

After a few years of consecutive unemployment, looking for a new path, trying to redefine myself (lord, doesn't this sound like some new age bullshit?), and coming to the understanding that I was most motivated, downright at my best, in a fast-paced environment where I play some leadership role and work within a team environment, the words of that ex-boss came back. That, coupled with a few colleagues commending me for some projects I led, has me here, agonizing over a pending exam that is literally consuming my every waking days and nights including dreams.

Here's the thing, my lovelies, and it goes way back to my title: I can do new things and my age is not a determinant factor. I am able to 'learn' and not just life lessons, which I'm determined never to stop doing. I can actually take on a whole new subject-matter, ingest a boatload of completed unrelatable information and apply it to questions on a test and know the right answer. Then, and this I found to be the trick, relate it to my own past experiences. 

Now, a manager in the making am I (sure, I've actually been one before) as defined by a leading organization who tells the world I'm legit and really know what I'm doing. Seems like such a joke in so many ways but that’s the intended end to this path, a sense of legitimacy.

Y'all...revelations. 

Truth be told, there are times when I still wanna flip my computer over, throw shit around, burn a few textbooks on a pyre and just go for a long drive, but I resist that because I'm not an animal (I just resort to growling at the computer here and there), instead plodding on trying to prove that I am not obsolete. 

Anyhow, if you're out there wondering, take it from this old bitch who believed herself to be doomed to relative obscurity in her career/life, never realizing any dreams whatsoever, that if you want to do something, at least try. I bet you didn't know there was gonna be an inspirational ending, did you? 

I can also tell you that it's okay to hate every excruciating minute of it, to want to give up, to want to curse the fates. Do all that but keep going. Eventually, you'll get there or know when the best time to bow out is, which would for sure be when you've given it your honest to goodness best shot, not the type where you say it but didn't really do it (something I've been guilty of in the past).

Anyhow, thanks for reading, as usual. Show me some love, tell me what dreams you’ve had/have and how you’ve gotten there or wish you had pursued. 

The Toddler vs Me - IT'S ON!

I tend to look at life with a mixture of uncertainty and hilarity. I get down into those dark spaces of my mind but in truth, I can't live there for long. Not that I cannot but I would rather not. Maybe it has to do with internal anxiety or that I'm not deep enough to constantly be doom and gloom? Whatever it is, you'll notice, as you follow me, that I will sometimes post something super serious and then the next could be about absolute nonsense. This helps to equalize me in a weird way.

Do you ever walk through your day looking for humor? I do. I think funny, overall, can be found in almost all situations. Okay, almost all but you get my gist. It may at times be obvious, other times it could be subtle. And because I am forever a writer, when it is totally not apparent to others at the hilarity of a situation, I'm filling in the blanks so when I repeat it, it's just a bit more giggle/chuckle-worthy.

This brings me to a few days ago to aptly highlight my ability to find humor anywhere/anytime... 

The area I call home is beautifully diverse. An area that is represented by all nationalities and cultures, citizens inevitably have varied options for damn near everything. Whether you want Asian specific, European particular, or say you have the burning desire to be influenced by the continent of Africa, you got it. Stores, specialty shops, cuisines are all around so if one resides hereabouts and you have never experienced more than a diner (which are great so no hate here) and burgers, that's on you. 

One of the best things for a person who cooks international food as I do is the varying amounts of grocery stores. In abundance around every corner, you can always catch me at the markets loading up on interesting ingredients, some of which I recognize, others which make me arch an eyebrow. And it can be hours of perusing aisles before I leave. It's a totally different story as to what I do with ingredients once having procured. My culinary stories could be a whole blog unto itself. 

But I digress...it was precisely one of these grocery stores that I had an epic battle with a toddler. 

One doesn't hear this often and I'm not ashamed. I feel the need to share this story because the little tyke had what he got, coming. Oh yeah. That's right. 

So on a particularly 'who knows how to dress for this weather' day in beautiful Northern Virginia, I'm regretting former laziness and knowing that without cooking, there would be starvation up in the hizzouz. Thus I am at the market completely unprepared as to what I'll prepare but figure surely there will be inspiration once I'm faced with the options? By the way, that technique really never works.

Anyhow, I'm going up and down the produce aisles hopeful for some sort of miracle in the form of maybe an eggplant standing up, strolling over to me, pulling at my tee, and whispering recipes into my ears? But alas, it may come as zero surprises but that didn't happen. In a state of semi-annoyance, at one point I felt like I was being watched. Unsure, surreptitiously I glanced about only to come face-to-face with my nemesis in the form of what seemed to be a 2-year-old or thereabouts toddler. I can't say I would be able to identify the imp for s/he was bundled up as if we lived in the tundra. But the eyes...

Ah yes, the steely gaze was steady, unblinking. And since that really was all I could see, they were everything. Big, round, and I think, judgemental. Do I sound paranoid? Well I mean, the look was enough to have me glancing down at what I was wearing which was a slightly stained burgundy sweatshirt (yeah, but it was clean and laundered), black leggings, and yellow sneaks (the same as Bruce Lee wore during "Enter the Dragon"). My hair was a haphazard unwashed mess and I think my eyeliner was a little smudgy, but not in a good way. Sure, the kid had every reason to judge the shit out of me but at that age?!? He had the nerve to continue to gaze at me in disdain without once batting a single eyelash. Didn't air dry his/her eyes out, I had wondered, turning away to continue to consider the produce in stacks before me.

But here's where I felt like s/he was doubling down like some creepy kid in those horror movies, or maybe her/his mother was in cahoots because every few steps, there they were, him/her in the stroller, staring. Once hyper-aware of the watching imp, I would escape to another aisle and within seconds s/he was there again. If The Toddler suddenly began to levitate, I wouldn't have been all that shocked, to be frank. At every turn, the eyes were staring and judging my very existence. I tried to tune them out but my mind loves to mess around with me and thus ignoring her/him almost impossible. 

Now the mother, or whoever she was, seemed oblivious. Maybe she didn't know her child was an embodiment of Damian from The Omen and while I would have loved to clue her in, she was way too busy on the phone talking really loudly. She gave zero fucks basically leaving me up to my own devices. I had to wonder if the kid was silently cursing me or something for even a display of sweets did not deter his gaze. 

How did this showdown come to a close? 

Well, approximately 5 aisles in, feeling slightly unbalanced as well as determined to go home and shower, dress, and put on make-up because for realz...I turned as if we were having a standoff at the OK Corral, I stared at them. They were about 25 feet away. She was super into her conversation which I didn't understand because I don't speak Spanish (I really, really need to learn) and of course the tyke was still staring, but now in chubby hands was clutched a juice thingie...you know the ones with two handles on either side. And the staring was still going but I was about to nip it in the bud. 

Facing them fully, well her/him, hands on either side of me, one clutching the phone that was piping in some Bollywood song into my ears, the other one flexed into a fist, I did the only thing I could: I stuck out my tongue.

Bingo.

His/her eyes flared in momentary shock. And before The Toddler could do anything further, I made a run for it.

Yup, I left, like a coward. Straight to the register, quickly I paid up and hustled the hell out of the store before s/he found me to lift me into the air with just her/his mind as s/he forced molten magma out of every orifice.  

I barely escaped with my life. I probably have a curse following me so I'll have to take up sage-ing myself and everything I own.

Am I being dramatic? Mayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyybeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Did you laugh? I hope so.

Hey, do me a favor and look for funny in the humdrum/mundane. And feel free to share with me in the comment section. And laugh, apparently it's good for the soul.

Have a great day!

Chronicles of a Fat Woman - Intro

Maybe you flinched at the title? Possibly you frowned in disapproval at the use of the word 'fat'? It's not very PC, nor nice in its abject truth. The very word sounds so...yucky. 

And it really is. Unless spelled with a "PH" in place of the "F", overall this particular word in itself really is nothing but connected with negative connotations. Sure, there are the fat sandwiches of the world which seems a pretty good thing (unless you're trying to lose weight in which case, not so much) but there are more not-so-great things associated with this simple 3-letter word. Take for example fat wallets or fat cats. If these two can be attributed to a person, it's not so awesome unless of course, you are one and in these cases, you probably won't care what others think anyhow.

Then why am I even using this very uncomfortable word and doing so this deliberately and in a blog post no less? 

If you don't know me in person and decided that you need or want to connect a real person to the online persona via your own imagination (not that I'm insinuating you will but in case...), I want to make that mental picture as accurate as possible which starts with the body although I think for me personally if I'm going to imagine anyone at all, I begin to wonder about the features on the face but that's neither here nor there. I just want to let you know that as you wonder about what I look like, in your mind, make sure that I'm plenty circular...physically. Because I am. 

In fact, I am fat.

For those who have seen me, some may be rolling your eyes thinking, "oh you're not that big" but society and my scale tells me otherwise. And regardless of whether I am to any one individual, I believe it to be so hence this, and the following, entries.

Let me start by saying that typing out that word in connection to me is so not the easiest thing to accomplish. It's taken 48-years of revolutions around the sun to be able to type that one singular word. In the past when describing myself, I've used such terminologies as big, big-boned, large, plump, curvy, and the occasional 'no skinny mini', big but beautiful, all in hopes to be kind to myself and in honesty? Not to 'look so bad'. Think, "I'm big but I'm not that big" sort of mentality. It's stupid and unnuanced really. I mean who determins what is too big? Is there an exact science between one bigness to the next or after a certain weight, it's all huge? Here I'm not speaking scientifically but rather humanistically.

In the way I worded my own descriptors to those who hadn't yet laid eyes upon my person, the truth was that I was ashamed of myself, my body, and what it meant that I was fat. Nothing, as I stated above, seemed positive about being this size. My biggest fears being that I would be considered greedy, a glutton, unable to control my mouth and disgusting. I feared that my rolls would be all that I was as opposed to the woman who was inside.

I wasn't
exaggerating

Now when I was a child, before menstruating, I was indeed skinny, all gangly arms and legs with a big ass mop of black frizzy hair. I have proof of this in grainy picture form, the kind that is fading in the corner and sepia in color due from age, not an app filter. Those were the days when I spent more time outdoors trying to prove that a girl could do anything a boy (in this case my older brother). I hated skirts and panty hose, I didn't understand why anyone would want to wear jewelry or comb their hair and I was absolutely not going to sit on the sidelines and act 'girly'. That little one of my past, she was a tomboy. Often arriving home with scraped elbows or bloody knees, I truly believe my mother, who was always absolute grace, beauty, and femininity, no doubt suffered from some sense of hopelessness as she tried to threaten, cajole, beg, plead with me to somewhat conform to those girl-esq traits that were the norm. 

But after woman-hood came a-knockin', I started to balloon. I don't know whether it was subtle or not. To be honest I saw pictures of me thin and then not. I just knew that in elementary school, I wasn't like the other girls (aside from being maybe 1 of 5 South Asians which held me apart anyhow) and the styles that were popular, didn't quite look good on me as they did on the others. 

Eventually as a woman, I was diagnosed with PCOS which I'll explain in a bit more detail on another blog. The one thing that became clear knowing I had PCOS was that it wasn't as simple as not eating right or laziness that was/is the reason for the over-weight but rather, for me, a bit of genetics involved. It brought me zero relief and only added frustration and a sense of anger at my own body.

Since then, like millions of others can attest to who struggle with weight issues, I've tried all those crazy fad diets, avoided going out due to feeling ugly, fantasized endlessly that if I were smaller, life would be perfect. I've gone to stores and had tears in my eyes as I tried out a size I swear I thought would fit, but didn't. I've gone home and wanted to just stay there, letting the walls become my permenant companions alnog with the television. And the tears? Rivers. 

However, now what I want to do, for some of the blog entries to come, is share what it has been like, what it is like, to be fat existing within most (not all) societies which dictates that beauty should come in a slender package. I'm not fooling myself to believe that you, my dearest readers, haven't seen such similar thoughts on various platforms. In fact, I'm sure millions of articles, op-eds, posts, journals, articles, etc. of the exact same subject-matter are/have been floating around the universe for a long time.

My writing will just be another bunch of those, I suppose, testimonials of the defeated, self-hating despite the fact that we want to be doing the opposite. And ultimately speaking, am I writing this just to add my voice/experiences to the millions that came before? I don't know but the assumptions seems reasonable. Or am I going down this road to maybe simply relay my story in the most honest, straight forward form that I can think of while every portion of my rather private nature tells me to not say a word? I want to pretend that things are great with me, that I reflect a modern day inner strength that is synonymous with the evolved. To express the struggles in personal, me-driven insightful ways is not going to be easy. I'm anxious about it but determined that in doing these posts, I'll be helping myself along with, possibly, others. 

As I've been told, it's not about the destination, rather about the journey, right? Akin to restarting to blog all over again, this is another trip I'm willing to take, fully exposing myself, my doubts, my pains, and my hopes of what can be. At the end of this exercise where I end up, who knows. At least though, I'll have something to look back at when I'm older (well, older than I am now) and be able to say that I was somewhat clued into myself, the difficulties that I faced, that I had some work to do regarding my own emotional/mental state, and was indeed trying to address them and most importantly, accepting the weaknesses that didn't come out of nowhere but I was still trying to turn into strengths through acknowleding, sharing and controling.

Yikes, all that sounds rather hokey.

If you're going to be following me, this will be a topic that will come up often with various shared memories. I'll warn you that these entries will probably be uncomfortable, saddening, a real downer. I'm not going to apologize for it simply because throughout my existance I've refrained from sharing due to not wanting to discomfort others but at this point, if you're going to click on my links, than you're going to be in this with me. I appreciate the companionship. Makes this seem so much less...dark. 

Yet again, welcome to the ride which is my life.

______

Oh, also, my computer has been on the blitz for a few days hence the big delay between this blog and the last. I'm actually aiming to post 1 entry per week, if not more, but lord knows that often times despite best intentions what I want to do goes to the wayside of what I have to do. Therefore, if you see that I've been slacking, send me a message and I'll snap to...promise.

Thanks for reading! Make the best of this moment that you can. 

Post-Orange Menace and What It Means

 Two things I failed to mention in the first post I made to this shiny new blog:

1. I am fairly political.

2. I hate/d Trump.

How will these two facts impact my musings overall? 

I don't know. I am fairly unsure about what will make me want to write so there's a chance I will blather on about the world in which we live in a rage-y manner or possibly not. I said I'm complex or sometimes bipolar (I'm not making fun of anyone who suffers from this so please know I'm lampooning myself.) 

For the most part, there are way better outlets to get factual news other than my posts although I will not likely proclaim anything without facts to support my views. I still wouldn't recommend you to access my stuff to know what's what, particularly if you're conservative in your political views. 

Now, I do have conservative views myself about some things but way liberal on others (such as overall human rights, go love who you wanna, be who you are supposed to authentically be, do what you will to your body as long as you don't harm others, yadda, yadda, yadda). In the past failed attempts of keeping a written journal of my life, I have tried to refrain from any over extensive commentary about politics unless it's at the point where not mentioning something would make me seem fully out-of-touch and downright daft. So that all being said...

DING DONG DON IS DEAD!

No, no, don't run to the headlines to see if Donny Trump kicked the bucket. I mean, let's not lie here, if I heard that he had gotten some sort of flesh-eating disease or consumed by a pack of rabid wild dogs, I wouldn't necessarily be wearing black to mourn him. None of these things, alas, happened. He's alive and kicking it in Florida, continuing to create havoc, spreading his fucktardery far and wide. Moronic pseudo-dictator that he seems to believe he is but in actuality is only a raving lunatic who attracts more of the same cray cray as he, is still trying to retain power even while staring down the barrels of various investigations/litigations. He's doing him. And his followers are still following.

Of course, it's now February of 2021 and he's been booted out of the Oval Office a few weeks back leaving Biden to pick up the pieces of the shadow-like democracy we once enjoyed. I could go on and on speaking as to how much I love Biden and this new admin but that's not really useful simply because, at this point, a paper hat would have been better than the orange-tinted buffoon.   

What's life like in a post-Trump America? 

For me personally, I most certainly don't want to destroy the TV every other day anymore. I don't tune into the news obsessively just to witness the shitshow that America became nor marvel that we could have sunk so low as to have a leader like him, and more importantly, I don't have to regulate my blood pressure (no, I didn't really do this but it felt like it) anymore as I beheld the sheer glorious narcissistic incomprehensible ravings of that lunatic. Presently, I browse through headlines on my phone or turn on the news while folding laundry to catch up. It's kinda nice that I'm not always dealing with low-level anxiety in that form anymore. I mean, I have anxiety in all other forms but just not that.

But he, the former Idiot-In-Cheif left his mark and it's not pretty. 

As I said, being brown is an experience all unto itself and in the past 4 years, it's been so very disheartening as Trump gave space for such hateful rhetoric and actions. In darker moments, I looked around this country that gave me so much only to wonder how it had betrayed me so very badly. Those were indeed breath-taking moments full of tears and in a way, mourning.

But I'm not totally mad at Shitler for this. Surprised that I say this? Particularly when at times I felt nervous to go beyond the very liberal area I live? When I knew, down to my bone, that there were swaths of this country that would be restricted for me, downright threatening to my very person?

Truth be told, racism has always and always lurked in the dark recesses of this here great country. Um, let me backtrack, it's been pretty much out there front and center to be totally honest if one just looked. It never stopped existing despite the Civil Rights Movement. Ask any person of color you come across and they'll have a story or two for you regarding how they were treated like human garbage due to their color. Not fun (understatement of the year).

But a lot of y'all are convinced racism died somewhere along the way. Not sure how nor why,  considering we've had the internet around for quite a while so knowledge is at the tips of your fingers if you want to know. I mean some folks will look up a random recipe or pictures of nail fungus at the drop of a hat (me, I'm that person...) but when it comes to the ugly truths of the world? It's just too hard I guess because then caring will kick in or worse yet, guilt. Nope, racism is very present. What it did do is disguise itself as politically correct and socioeconomic chains. It has stayed alive in opportunities that POC don't have in education, work, life, etc. Thanks to cell phones, it's a bit more visible in the form of viral videos.  

But back to the Orange Shitgibbon...he gave free rein for closet racists to kick open the door, to be so comfortable with it, out loud, akin to a streaker during Sunday night football, and flash their hate alllll over the place. He lifted the proverbial rock to let them slither out. For the last 4 years, these bottom feeders roamed around freely feeling as if it was their time to shine while screaming, ironically enough, oppression and reverse racism. I mean...what? I mean white people...really? Oppression? Reverse racism? C'mon now.

But wait, don't leave thinking I'm about to bash all of you. I'm not. That isn't the point at all of this. I'm also not going to go on and on in assuring that I have white friends (because I do) and how amazing they are (because they are) nor how much they stand shoulder-to-shoulder with POCs (again, they do). What I will explain here is that Trump magnified something that should have been obvious if one was to simply look past their own lives: racism is still quite alive, living and breathing, as sadly horrifically multiplying. 

Post-Trump, we are a broken nation, without a doubt. Fractured and splintered. We are two sides screaming oppression at one another. Hate seems to live within our veins. And while this is terribly disheartening the very fact is, without bringing into the light the truth or acknowledging the problem, we will actually never be able to try and fix it. Am I silly enough to believe for a second that racism will one day disappear? Absolutely not. 

However, and here's where I reflect positivity, as the world continues to integrate, as people from different backgrounds continue to come together and create new colors in all shades in the form of procreation, the inevitable is that there will be more beige than anything else so racism will have less and less oxygen. Or maybe that's my hope. I do believe it'll be long after I'm but dust and one with nature for this to really happen. 

Anyhow, I'm not sure how many of us survived these past years with McTurd. He did quite a number to us. There's a bizarre sense of PTSD as well for many. But I figured, let me get this post out of the way so that if you don't live here, and are wondering, now you know.

Sending you all good Friday vibes, wherever you are!

I Lost My Blog (Dang it)

 ...Or rather I can't figure out how to log back in because Blogger made it damn near impossible to find it. I suppose I could spend some time internet researching how to get back into my old account but then again that would mean expending energy, something I do not have in terrible spades to begin with, along with patience. The alternative is to start anew and refer back to my older blog (http://americandesiredefined.blogspot.com/) every once in a while with warm longing and love. I can also freely steal from it so this is a win/win/sin situation. I can also simply embrace that I'm losing my tech mojo, no longer able to navigate the intricacies of a webpage. *Gasp* I refuse to believe this option because it would mean I'm old. Not yet, readers, not just yet. 

Let's begin at the beginning (for that's the only place to start) with some facts about me, my life, my small little me-ness. My FB friends probably know a lot about me already so this is more for those who are just stumbling onto my post and decided to *click*.

• My name is Rubina but often I refer to myself as Rubes online. Yup, not giving the last name. Heck, even the last name on my Facebook isn't my real one. I have another name that my family calls me or my closest desi (a person of Indian, Pakistani, or Bangladeshi birth or descent who lives abroad) acquaintances. I'll eventually tell you all about it.
  
  
• I live right outside of Washington D.C. in Virginia. 
  
  
• As you're reading this, I'm unemployed. As you're reading this, I'm trying to get a job. I will.
  
  
• I'm 48. I have problems really wrapping my head around that number. It seems incredible that I've been around as long as I have. Not because I live some crazy on-the-edge sort of life thus I didn't expect to live this long. I'm not that badass. But you know, FORTY-EIGHT YEARS. Wasn't I 21 just a few years ago? I guess know. Just to be clear, while I'm slightly woozy about the number, it doesn't mean I do not love my age. I actually do.
  
  
• I'm an American Bangladeshi. You will learn much, much more about this throughout the journey of my blogging. Actually, if I want to be super accurate, I'm an American Bangladeshi/Indian. For those who do not know where Bdesh is on the map:
  
  
  
  
  
  
• I am Muslim. Again, way more information to come regarding this. Most of it will be stolen from that other blog I had because shoot, a lot of time went into crafting those. My theism is what has made me the person I am today. I will NOT be trying to convert you to Islam. If I speak about it, it will be in terms of how it has impacted me throughout life and created the blogger who hopefully you'll love and adore (and follow). 
  
  
• My personal situation in my life is just that, personal. I don't tend to share information such as displaying loved ones' names in my writing because to me that is an invasion of privacy and can make them feel ways that may not be good. I'm not about the whole calling-out thing unless it's truly necessary. Overall I just think that specifics of status take away from the overall message.
  
  
• I'm a writer though one would wonder how much of it I do and do I have any formal writing to my name. For years the mojo disappeared and thus have zero clues as to how to log onto my blog account. But in my mind, I am constantly writing something. The disconnect is to transfer it to paper. As for the, "'can I read your writing anywhere other than your blog?" question...no. I'm a wimp and cannot find the gumption to get any of my work published.
  
  
• I'm always open to comments and feedback. My life is not lived within a vacuum and I am always out to improve myself mentally, spiritually, emotionally. Be kind, be polite, feel free to let me know your thoughts.
  
  
• I'm human which means I fuck up all the time. I will display this human side of me in ways sometimes which I even think are unnecessary. But I'm trying to be raw. Kinda. Sorta. Let's see how much of this rawness I can actually show.
  
  
• I am overweight. Phew, to write this statement out is HUGE. I struggle with this a lot. I will be talking about it. Don't be uncomfortable about it. I don't hate myself. Well, most of the time I don't. But there will be times when I will speak of it in despairing ways. I probably will get dark. Those darknesses are apart of my overall light. Know that this has nothing to do with you and you don't have to pity me, neither do you have to be disgusted with me. Just read me. 
  
  
• I'm a brown person living in a predominantly white landmass (namely the USA). There's so very much to say about this topic, so much that has impacted me in my growth and overall outlook in life, so much that so many do not know/understand. All browns are not equal in experiences while we very well may share the same feelings. I believe expounding upon these things helps to help bridge misunderstandings/confusion. 

That leads me smoothly into my mission statement for this blog: To share experiences, thoughts, and overall life crap that will prove that while I look different, I am absolutely the same as you, no matter your skin color, race, background, socioeconomic status, sexual orientation, etc. In fact, whether you are sitting at the table next to me in this wonderfully socially distanced cafe or you're 15,000 miles away insomnia-ridden due to anxiety of some sort or another, we are more similar than dissimilar. We experience human emotions in common forms, we look for light, love, positivity within our own spheres, we want to be happy and included even as we may feel terribly, terribly lonely. 

I'm sure overall I could be far more eloquent however the one thing I do strive for in my blog is to be real. Or at least I try. I mean, sure I fail but then again, failure is apart of the human condition, right? 

Oh, and I just started this blog. There are no bells and whistles on my page yet. I'll add them like color and layout along with other fancy stuff once I get my bearings and have time. 

So, as the kids like to say, "let's do this thing!" (wait, the kids do say this still, right?)

Welcome to my world! <3