I left my nunchucks back in the States or else it would have been curtains for that guy,* or: Did we just get carjacked in broad daylight?

Yet again, my ninja training proved worth the 18 months I spent training with my sensei in the foothills of the Himalayas.

Can I please spend the rest of my life travelling the world on the back of a motorcycle with an attractive man?

Dhanbad, India.

 

The sun on my face, the warm wind through my hair, the shops, restaurants, boutiques, parlours, shacks, homes, rich people, homeless people, people people whizzing, rushing into broad yellow-orange-red paint strokes.

The thing about crying babies

5 December 2009

Mid-air Flight 225 Brussels to Chennai

I don’t mind them, really. They have needs and can’t verbalize them, and as an inhibited person, I get it. So on flights that are 10+ hours long, I don’t mind hearing them scream from across the aisle. But! There’s something about babies that refuse to be comforted.

Going

Sometimes I get this Going feeling.

Don’t let the dress trick you.

I am not, nor have I ever been, a girly girl. When convention dictated that I receive multiple Barbie dolls for my 5^th birthday, I much preferred to play with my cousin’s Ninja Turtle action figures.* I didn’t start wearing make-up until college, and the only reason I know my way around a liquid eyeliner applicator is because my little sister schools me. And perhaps most fundamental to a girly girl, I lack the sort of feminine wiles that attract men, potentially due to my colorful use of the English language that comes from being raised in New Jersey; in Jersey-speak: I got no game. I’ve always just been one of the boys.

Great Expectations

*I should not be blogging, I should really be studying for my two exams next week so I’ll have to leave this largely unedited.

When we have known someone for a long time, we tend to develop certain expectations of him or her based upon their past words and actions. We might not even realize we’re doing this and it’s because generally, they meet our expectations and only occasionally surprise us. For example, you would expect your (former) friend not to make out with your (former) crush, or your close friends not to forget to call you on your birthday. When these expectations are met, things go well; when they are not, conflict arises.

Obligatory Rant Regarding the Dominant Sex

Normally, I’m not typically one to alienate half the world population (and 90% of my friends) with the propagation of half-truths based on archaic, patriarchal stereotypes, but lately I’ve become more and more frustrated and frankly, pissed the fuck off with grown boys who like to call themselves men.