a curry tale

tonight i had authentic indian food. the real deal. one of my good friends at work is indian, and tonight he invited me and another girl over to eat home-cooked indian food with him and his roommate. his mom is in town, so he shared the love. it was one of my most adventurous meals to date. i guess i trust kumar, and i wanted to be respectful of his culture and his mom. she was an absolute delight and had spent quite a bit of time preparing the meal. i tried everything, and i even went back for more (my first helping was rather timid due to my ever-hesistant and consistently exclusive tastebuds).

i left my apartment earlier a little worried about the meal. my roommate and i were discussing our intense dislike of curry. i said things like "curry tastes like it doesn't belong in food. it tastes like a chemical that should only be used in a factory with gasmasks." stuff like that. little did i know that not only would i eat curry, but i would eat my big fat words along with it.

my favorite was this pita-style bread she cooked in a skillet with onions inside, which was an all-purpose dipper, shoveler, etc for each dish. my favorite dipping substance was the brick-red sauce in a concoction that entailed peas and some very large chunks of tofu-looking cheese. i wasn't so much a fan of the latter, but the sauce was money. halfway through the meal i asked dawn if there was curry. she laughed at my question, and pointed to the saucy, cheesy, pea dish i was probably dipping into at that very moment. so i guess i don't hate curry after all. in fact, i kind of like it.

isn't it funny how our tastes can change unwittingly, even when we resist. sometimes we get so adamently opposed to something for reasons we can hardly remember, and it seems to be a rather subjective game we play. but we stick to our guns. always. and sometimes we get caught. just like i did tonight.

i used to think i didn't like curry, but color me converted.

not it

i'm at work at 8pm on a friday night. today i have realized that basically for the next 2 months my life will not be my own. i have a great opportunity at work, but with that comes sacrifice (apparently). i've been assigned to work on a new business pitch. an intense new business pitch. we are putting ourselves on the line for this potential client that could greatly elevate the status of BBH New York. or something like that. at any rate, tomorrow i'm going to come back to the office. on saturday. my first weekend ever to work. this could get old, but there's something that feels good about working your ass off.

i have yet to unpack my suitcase from last weekend, i desperately need to do laundry, i keep thinking about what all i need to do for work before monday, and i still feel like i look tired. i am way too laid back to be living like this. good thing is there's an end in sight. otherwise i'd go positively insane. this project will stretch me, no doubt. ok, enough work and attempted profundity about work.

last weekend i went to another wedding in texas. my friends in new york think that either everyone i know is married or that i know way too many people. it seems everytime i'm going to be out of the office it's for a wedding in texas. i try to explain that things are just different in texas, but they just can't fathom being married at 23. and to be honest, neither can i. but i do understand (somewhat). i trust my friends, and they're allowed to do their own thing, as am i.

for now i'll continue to show up at weddings and support my friends, bearing unmentionable gifts for the bride to be, and i'll most likely be dateless and dodging the bouquet. now it's back to work...

long way home

up until 45 minutes ago i was wearing the same clothes i wore yesterday. the bags under my eyes today rival the size of the one i carry on my shoulder. i was in desperate need of a shower, clean clothes, and some normal food. thanks to some bad weather in dallas, yesterday was one of the longest days of my life.

i was trying to get back to new york on a 3:20 flight out of austin and had to endure boarding one hour late, sitting on the runway for almost two, sitting on the runway for another half hour once we landed in dallas, hopping on a handicapped cart to take me to another terminal...all to be told that i wasn't going to make it, which i could've guessed considering we landed a fews hours past my departure time out of dallas. the next flight i could get on was this morning at 9:55. so i called and left messages at work saying i'd be (slightly) late, and my brother came and picked me up close to 11. we stopped to get me a toothbrush, and i slept on their couch in one of his nasty old t-shirts.

i woke up entirely confused, did my best to freshen up, and walked out the door just knowing that i looked like shit. i landed in new york around 2:30, and my estranged suitcase was waiting for me. i got in a cab, and the driver was one of those guys that must have been sick the day they taught how to accelerate properly at taxi driving school. to add insult to injury, traffic was ridiculous, and when he saw it was going to be a long ride he cranked up the indian music to a borderline obnoxious level. even though i knew i still had to go to work, all i wanted to do was get home.

home is a funny concept. the dictionary has an entire list of possible definitions, and it means different things to different people. to some it's where they grew up; to others it's where they lay their head. for some people home has a negative connotation, and others don't even have one. some of us, if we're lucky, have several places we consider home. i think for me home is sometimes more of an intangible quality - a feeling of comfort or familiarity. when i'm coming back to new york from a trip, i say i'm going home. i'm ready to get home. but then if i'm headed to austin for christmas, i say that i'm going home for christmas. at the end of the day, though, i consider home to be where i lay my head. it's where i want to go when i'm tired or sick or need to be alone.

on days like today when getting home was a process, it feels that much better to walk through the door. so now i'm clean and ready to sleep in my own bed. i'm home. and it's a good feeling.

white monday

today was a strange day. i really don't have a job description per se, and days like today are the reason for that. it began with some unhappy creatives and a panic-stricken assistant account manager and ended with white.

i'd do anything for mary tomer even if she wasn't in a bind. but today she was. so off i went, venturing through the sea of soho with someone else's plastic. american apparel provided me with all the tight white clothing i needed. and thanks to the passing of labor day, white shoes were no where to be found. we were forced to get a little creative.

i purchased four pairs of silver heels and headed over to pearl paint where the magic began. i brought mary the clothes, grabbed the financial times, and headed downstairs to find a nice little sidewalk spot. the looks i got from passersby were absolutely priceless. today i was one of those people on the street doing something weird that warrants a second look, and a third, and a fourth. people had "what the hell?" written all over their faces. one guy even asked what i was selling them for. what - these people had never seen someone spray paint four pairs of identical high heels on the sidewalk before?

despite the unfavorable winds, i definitely had me some white heels. all in a day's work. i guess. so now at a shoot in some studio in madison, wisconsin there will be three unappreciative girls wearing lots of white.

amarillo by mornin'

i spent this past weekend in amarillo, texas. coming straight from a city like new york, amarillo proved quite the culture shock: the smell of fresh manure, big trucks, men in wranglers, women in wranglers, open fields, mullets and bad perms, outdated clothing, and screen doors, just to name a few. god knows i was missing my city. i was thankfully distracted by people i love: my favorite younger girls from school, a beautiful bride (two years my minor!), my parents, and kitty and paw paw.

3010 brentwood. it still smells like it did when i was five years old. everytime i walk in that back door, i take a deep breath, and i look around the office, then the living room, taking note of paintings and pictures and knick-knacks that have been consistent year after year. among my favorites are the painting of my dad as a four-eyed teenager with a flat top, the spread of poster size picture prints lining the office walls, and the collection of 1980s trucker hats hanging on the door. the house is full of love and memories and things that need to be thrown out and lots of pills that old people take. the best part of the house is the deck where as a little girl i ate dirt and picked cherries off the tree, but these days i stick to a cup of coffee and good conversation.

kitty and paw paw are possibly getting funnier with each passing year, but i also noticed something else this time. something i've chosen to previously ignore: they are aging. paw paw walks a little slower and looks tired. kitty remembers less and repeats questions more often. don't get me wrong, they are in pretty good shape for a couple in their early 80s. but i can see them heading for the end. not to be morbid, but it's inevitable. so for now i will call them more, write them more, and love them more than ever for as long as i can. until their time is up, paw paw will continue to take more pills, eat more strange things, and make stuff up. sweet kitty will keep going to the beauty shop once a week, have occasional get-togethers with "the quilties", and repeat questions she asked 2 minutes prior. whenever i see them paw paw will hug me and refer to me as his champion hugger, and kitty will come in and scratch my back before bed while subtly asking about my love life.

my affection for amarillo is based purely upon two of the most incredible human beings i know. other than that, its redemptive qualities are, well, absent.

so no one told you life was gonna be this way...

this week has just been one of those weeks. every morning has been a battle to get out of bed, and every day at work i just want everyone to leave me alone so i can pass the time by myself. each day someone has commented on how tired i look, which is real booster. i've been grumpy, unproductive, sardonic, and i've consumed way too much caffeine. it's made me wonder how i have friends, considering i've been such a joy this week.

last night i spoke with a friend from home who i haven't talked to in a really long time. he's three years younger, but we managed to become great friends my last year in high school and have kept up ever since. we had a mutual crush situation back then, but i couldn't bring myself to rob that cradle. at any rate, talking to him last night got me thinking about how funny friendship is.

when i survey the spread of people i'm friends with, i'm amazed and amused and how massive the span. i love reflecting on how certain friendships began, what drew me to that person in that moment in time. i often wonder how much choice we have in the matter. my cast of characters seems to have assembled (and continues to do so) in a way that is somewhat out of my hands. sure there are some friendships we pursue more than others and some that require more work and persistance than others, but i think the gravitation is natural and also unique to each friend.

the way in which dylan and i became friends when he was a mere freshman and i was a senior is completely different than the way i've fallen for a 45 year old black gay guy named earl or the way in which i manage to form friendships with girls who are loud and animated and like pink. the beautiful part is what each different individual friendship teaches you, about yourself and about them and about how to love. every friendship looks different, has its own style, its own way of communicating (some forms much stranger than others). friends help make us who we are, and it's not something i think about often enough.

friendship is an art. genesis and maintenance. now if you'll excuse me, i've got some hugs to give and some phonecalls to make...