December 31, 2008

Things I'm reading: My Guantanamo Diary

I was lent this book by a colleague and was apprehensive to read it at first; the fear of knowing what the U.S. government was doing to innocent human beings frightened me.

Mahvish Khan's My Guantanamo Diary is a compelling read. During her time at law school a few years ago, stories were being leaked out of Gitmo about abuse against prisoners. Wanting to know if she could do anything at all to help, she contacted Dechert, an international law firm which was handling several cases. Being of Afghani descent (her parents fled to the U.S. by way of Iran when things started changing in the late 70s), and growing up in Michigan, she spoke Pashto and was able to gain clearance from the government to work as a translator alongside Dechert's attorneys.

After the first few trips to Cuba, Mahvish then traveled to Peshawar (located near the Afghan border in northwest Pakistan), then by road to Kabul (!) to gather evidence and testimony to prove the innocence of detainees. Most of the prisoners are falsely accused of working for al-Qaeda, and conveniently enough when the prisoners give names of witnesses who can testify on their behalf, these people are mysteriously "unavailable" or the case is simply left alone, with the prisoner remaining without hope of a proper trial, let alone release.

Aside from the fact that the U.S. government had carefully calculated how to get people into Gitmo's cells, it had been assisted in large part by the Pakistani government, specifically the ISI. In addition to randomly capturing people from parts of Afghanistan, corrupt Pakistani officials complied with the U.S. in order to gain access to the bounties which were promised for the capture of al-Qaeda operatives. In this case, anyone with malicious intent toward another could easily turn them in to the U.S. authorities for money. This was also a convenient way for the Pakistani government to take care of any political opponents, or anyone who was against them (please google Badr Zaman and Abdul Rahim Muslim Dost).

Reading about the different kinds of torture was hard, but I feel that even though I can't do what Mahvish did, I can at least respect these human beings by reading about their experiences.

One of the craziest parts of the book is when she describes downtown Kabul, which is teeming with rich Europeans & Americans, buying land and vacationing. Apparently the Intercontinental Hotel there has rooms with a host of amenities, with the same prices you'd find at nice hotels in the States. It's something that I can't wrap my head around. We know now that the formula in Iraq was "instigated political instability + war = economic profit". But the fact that people travel there for enjoyment, while the people of Afghanistan can't buy food for their children or survive the freezing nights makes me question what the real mission of the American government truly is. Can this government rightly condemn "terrorists", when it is itself calculating torture and selling war to rich white people?

The book comes out soon, but here is the link to Ms. Khan's WaPo article, which functions as a summary to her book: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/04/29/AR2006042900145_pf.html

December 28, 2008

More.

Portrait of Juanly
Marker & pen on bristol.

Postcard
I did this one first; don't like it as much. Color pencil, pen, marker & china marker.

December 26, 2008

Things I Like: Christmas, Cameras, Cats.

Christmas is officially over. This make me sad! Ever since becoming a Christlim, I get to partake in the chaos of Christmas shopping and being greedy about whatever it is that I want. Now, in addition to getting eidie (money from elders on Eid) twice a year, I get out of control presents from my family not only on my birthday, but also on Christmas.

It didn't occur to me this year, that instead of telling my mom what I wanted, that I should've just asked her to make a donation to a charity of my choice. I swear to do this next year with my family who spend too much money on gifts; but Juanly and I have decided to do this for one another NOW.

Good idea.

Anyhow, I can't complain too much. I'm a lucky girl to have so much; I was lucky enough to receive a camera this year. I've been aching for one ever since my old Cybershot broke after my trip to India two years ago. Since then, I've been debating whether to get a digital SLR which seemed impractical, but I decided to copy Meghan and settled on a Canon Powershot SD750. It's small but packs a punch.

Casio
(Color-accent feature; I've seen this a lot in other people's pictures but still like it)

Dr. Bombay
Romy: The Best Cat in the World.

***
I've made a few resolutions to myself which I'm storing in the front of my brains when 2009 rolls around next week:
1. Yoga/health
2. More art
3. New job options
4. Conscious/careful about my actions and words
***

Good luck to all in the new year.

December 23, 2008

November 30, 2008

Dancing with Myself



Uh oh

Yeah so I've grown out of my "brown identity politics" phase (thank goodness), and now I just identify as "person", but I doodled this anyway.

YAWN.

November 12, 2008

Bristol (paper, not Palin)

It's been a while and I have finally found something to say. Work has been keeping me super-stressed and so has school. I feel like I am at the laziest part of my life, where I am not feeling committed to anything I do, yet doing things because I have to and chugging along nonetheless. The only thing which brings me some kind of peace is going home at the end of the day. Waking up in the morning is a whole different story, I can't shake this feeling of wanting to hide under my covers until all feeling of obligation from every guilt-ridden bone in my body is completely gone. Meaning, I never want to come into work and put it off in the morning until I am at least an hour late, but at least I suck it up and show up!

ANYWAY I am at work, not doing what I should be doing (because I don't know how) and avoiding other little trivial things by talking at my blog.

I haven't been making anything really; I am working on the border (in my typical doodle-y style)on a huge piece that I have started working on with Juanly in our spare time. If I had a camera or bothered to ever set up my scanner then I would share this. Instead, I will share this tip: The other day I went to Utrecht and found these wonderful things!

They are 2.5x3.5", perfect for hiding under my notepad and doodling. Another unique feature is that you can swap your mini-artworks with other artists through an online forum (more info here): http://www.strathmoreartist.com/atc.php --You can either do it in person locally, or online. They have every kind of paper, including little baby-canvases!

If I had even more time at work (or more accurately, if I were more creative), I would start brainstorming a narrative to develop a series of cards. A wallet-sized workspace is definitely less daunting than your average 8x10" and up sized papers.

My personal favorite has always been bristol paper, which is versatile, and handles pen/ink, marker, and colored pencil particularly well without bleeding or warping the paper when you want to layer these mediums.

I think that's all I was aiming to say. I will post some stuff in a few weeks!

September 11, 2008

"Never Forget"?

No, no American can forget what happened downtown a few years ago. What happened was beyond words. And I remember being scared that my dad was on Wall Street and that something could have happened to him. I remember him picking me up in a cab with soot on his clothes and shoes, wearing a mask around his neck that must've covered his face. I remember crossing the Queensboro Bridge and looking down across the island and seeing black clouds rising from the lowest part of it.

I won't forget these things but I cannot help but be appalled by the way this country grieves shamelessly and publicly, for the whole world to see. What have we learned from this day? Nothing. Have we not also killed scores of people in vain? And so in times of grief, we expect even our anguish to prevail, to take importance over the pain of all those families destroyed in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Palestine; all those lives ruined because this administration gave the okay for it. They were all human, and they all suffered. This is what I'm trying to keep in perspective.

Today Bush gives the okay to allow raids in the NWFP? By planning to bomb more people, does that signal respect for the dead?

Read the names of those that perished seven years ago. Read them and remember them. But also remember that all of those people that were bombed to hell or massacred had names too, but no one will ever read them for the world to remember.

August 26, 2008

Brains. It's what runs through my brains.

Hey Self!

+++

My eyeballs feel sad. They need a massage. Tomorrow is my first class in pursuit of a master's degree. Yay higherhigher educations! But, srsly, I'm excited. And very afraid. I'm always really afraid.

Work is the same, which it should stay that way so I can be good at school. Though I'm bored half the time, getting emails from my bosses always thanking me for my work (and the occasional "You rock!") makes up for the rest of the wasted time or crappy tasks I get stuck with.

Right now I'm being squinty because I need new glasses. I'm trying to watch the DNC, but it's boring. I wasn't really feeling Michelle Obama's speech last night. I thought it was really forced and trying too hard to be emotive, too Barack-y; she kept starting her sentences with "Y'see...". I like her a lot, just thought her speech was a bit of a letdown. The Obama kids screaming into the microphone was intended to be cute but it was just awkward. I'm being too judge-y I know. All these events are weird to me. If you break it down; how excited people are to follow someone who is made out to be a symbol of change. "Change we can believe in" plastered all over the screens, voices screeching into microphones bounding through the arena...It's all sort of 1984-ish. It's not so much a critique of the DNC, as much as it is about this whole process, the way people think and how they put their faith in politicians.

I will say, that I liked Ted Kennedy's short speech, and I always love seeing Jimmy Carter, I just want to give him a big but gentle hug, bloodshot eye and all.

August 14, 2008

Arrested Irony




I kept wondering what might have happened to him. When I first saw his missing arm from the corner of my eye, I thought it was an old man. I shocked to see someone my age. He had gashes on his upper arms too.

But he seemed fine. I wonder if people ever come up to him and ask what happened. Maybe he was at war. I wanted to hug him or be his friend.

Anyway, I hid my iPod inside my tote and continued watching --in guilt-- feeling my entertainment choice was perhaps in bad taste. But, y'know, what can you do?

August 13, 2008

Chris Ware: Why So Awesome?


(click to enlarge, I promise it's worth it!)
But seriously, how does one do this?

Lately, more so than ever, I just want to get into this whole thing.
I wonder where I can take some cheap/free illustration classes. There's so much that can be said by work like this. I don't know, am I being a little OOC*?

I think I'm going to re-read Jimmy Corrigan.

He's also done lots of more commercially-oriented work (his style seemed familiar way before I even knew who he was), i.e.,




*Out of control

August 1, 2008

Tomorrow is Caturday

Caturday
Romy is coming.

July 19, 2008

July 14, 2008

Final Notice

This is getting ridiculous. I need to carry around my journal or something, especially since work is waning down in peak vacation season. I wish I were a little bit more motivated in making things, especially since I want to get better at drawing.

I've taken to writing down key phrases on post-its at work in hopes that this will get me to do things when I get home, but it never pans out that way. Mostly because I don't believe I can make something that I like, which is the dumbest excuse ever. I'm still reeling from drawing for two hours and my computer randomly shutting down, and then crying for ten minutes and then mourning for a day.

So I will draw later, after I make dinner...
I think.

***

I've also noticed that being in school, or rather the thought of going back to school gets me excited because, 1- I want to get a better job that is at least somewhat reflective of my capabilities and interests &, 2- The more immediate effect: I feel an urgency in having to know what's happening around me and the connection which stems from that to the entire world.

It took me a good ten minutes trying to phrase that correctly.

June 30, 2008

I like it anyway!

So I'm back blah blah as if it matters.
Had a good time in the Pak despite all that damn loadshedding and all the stupid heat and diarrhea.

Moved in with the DonJuan and it's peachy.

Got a haircut today, went real short, I'm guessing she chopped off like 5 or 6 inches (my hair was very long, and dead and gross at the end).

6.30.08

She dried it real straight and then cut it.
Needless to say, she went real choppy with the bangs and it's interesting and I like it, very different.

My mom just swung by to pick up some stuff and her reaction was sort of startling. My hair is wet just now but by the looks of her reaction I'm going to have to wear a bag over my head for the next 3 months.

I'm going to bed now, and going to work with some hipster hair tomorrow. It's okay since I work for a non-profit and live in a trendy neighborhood now.

May 27, 2008

Itchy /Itching

...all over. I think/hope it's that St. Ives bodywash. Always knew that stuff was cheap-ass! Unless I have fleas, which is a real problem.

I'd like to sleep except I can't; I'm very excited. If I were less lazy I would draw something, but it's midnight and im laying down, twisted like a pretzel with my comforter as a makeshift desk.

I'm going to Pakistan in a few days. I don't really know why I'm so excited. It's likely just the anticipation of the trip itself, but it's always so weird going back there; like it should all be familiar but it's not. It's always a shock.

I'm going for my first cousin's wedding, whom I don't even know well at all (though recently the powers of Facebook united us). It's my mother's sister's daughter, which I guess means she's kind of supposed to be like a sister, except not at all in this case. It may be awkward at times but nothing beats dressing up and really being a part of a wedding. Mostly I want to enjoy this too, live vicariously in a way, because I'm not suited for that big, traditional wedding. I think I gave that up a while ago, probably when my parents got divorced because I never could envision them exchanging pleasantries on "my big day". Probably also because I'm dating a Dominican/Catholic. Probably for a lot of other reasons too.

***

Summer is always exciting. New things form in the spring and manifest in the warmer weather, it seems.

1- Last year it was graduating college, getting a job and moving home. This spring, I fought myself (and my mother, just a little) and went for what I wanted. I am moving in with my boyfriend of many years; we signed a lease for an apartment. It's making me nervous and excited.

2- I am going on this pretty much all expenses vacation to the Pak for two weeks (i.e., getting away from NYC).

3- I am starting part-time graduate work this fall, which on top of 9-5 work, will keep me very busy.

I guess that's it, really.

How anticlimactic.

May 9, 2008

8 days a week

8 days a week

Is not enough to show I care.

May 5, 2008

"Don't Be Ridiculous."



Lord, this is a BFTP. I remember watching this sometimes, never understood why the cranky American cousin was always so uptight. I remember feeling that if someone as fun as Balki ever came to live with me, I would always be happy and have a reason to smile.

***
This is also ridiculous. I made it sometime last week when I was desperate to make something, anything, colorful and completely stupid.



click to enlarge

John Abraham? Yez pleez.

Today was Monday. I was extremely grumpy and in denial that it was the beginning of another week and I remained in a haze most of the day. This was partly because I was in Funroe all weekend, playing in the hills and hullahooping and walking in the sun and being gluttonous and all of those wonderful things. My rude awakening came in the form of a sharp pang of disgust I felt being back on a subway after three days. YUCK, I say.

The only thing that got me through the day was my guilty read (Unaccustomed Earth)--yet another book about 2nd genners. It's basically a bunch of stories all about the intimate and fragmented pieces of family relationships (The Things That Go Unsaid), always with that overdone desi twist (just that the label of "Bengali" is used over and over, for something that can be applied to any desis, I think). It's interesting to think of the way Amy Tan writes books (exciting & extremely engaging) versus Lahiri, who writes about the mundane almost exclusively. I guess the main difference would be Tan writes novels and Lahiri is more of a short story writer, so that's the main thing. Short stories are more like sketches. Even though Tan uses the same subject matter, she is such a skilled storyteller that I could read her always. UE is a guilty read because I feel like I can't not read it (it's the equivalent of Archie comics when I was 12). Anyway, it's basically a bunch of stories about Gogol Gangulies approaching middle age and married to white people. I still like it, I appreciate the characters she draws (despite the mention of Park Slope stroller posses in the first story, not cool).

***
I am going to Pakistan in 3.5 weeks or something like that and I am utterly too excited for wearing pretty clothes and getting my hair did and mehndi and being actually legitimately a part of a big fat desi wedding. Also, 15 days away from my desk is enough incentive for me to travel just about anywhere with anyone and do anything in anyplace.

***
Why am I still awake. Damn you wet hair.

April 29, 2008

The Restoration

Sometimes I wish I could sit down and write everything that came into my head. Every memory, every little detail and I wish that someone could understand just what it means to me. I wish I could draw it and show exactly what it was and what it represents looking back now.

I am too young to mourn the past, but it is dead, and there are few who can give those memories life. Little is said or done now to remember what we had many years ago. I was sitting with Dadu, Dadi and Omi at the dinner table on Sunday, and I completely fooled myself into thinking Baba was going to walk in at any moment, with that silly, put on grin that he has. I literally believed that he was going to appear out of thin air and give us hugs.

It's been hard being with my grandparents because they're so depressed. All of my life, I have been around old age, and now it's getting to that point where things seem imminent, to the point where my grandfather has weakened himself so much just by thinking becoming weak for so many years. He has rendered himself helpless because he is a man who has aged, and who has convinced himself that he is nothing of what he used to be. Livelihood, independence, it's run out, so he lives to remember and lives to love his family, but his reward is less than half of all the hope and prayers he puts in. Knowing this upsets me. That confidence, the command and the rigidity has all eroded leaving behind no edges--the soft wrinkly skin, the professions of loss, the rekindling of memories of which I have no connection, except they are mine too in some remote way. Always so witty; he is absolutely the brown Englishman who dressed with such style and pride but also made fun of the English (and still does). And poor Dadi, who has been his eyes and ears, who knows what she's thought over the years, what she's felt; she hasn't said a word, would never hurt a single soul...in fact, I do not believe she has ever hurt anyone.

4-20-08_2

***
Lately I've been feeling wasted, like I'm not keeping track of what's important and I've forgotten what inspires me. I've been doing silly, self indulgent little things when I have the time. Maybe belittling isn't the way to account for it; although I cannot help but feel hollow because so much of what I've done in the past year has been some form of instant gratification, not necessarily something productive in the long-term (except getting into Hunter, which I'm not even excited for because I'm only going part-time, and when I think of the amount of time it'll take to finish, I don't care).

I don't know where to find it, but I know it'll come back to me.

April 14, 2008

Not a part of my job description.

I wish I could use my tablet at work. I get so bored that I look for things to do on the interwebs, but I could be spending that boredom time being more creative. There's no discreet way of using it, at least not how you can hide windows when you're playing solitare or talking to folks online.

Boo.

My eyes are all puffy, my head/jaw are stiff and it took me 30 minutes changing in and out of clothes to be even slightly satisfied with what I was wearing. Yup, it's Monday. When I got on the train, I realized I was just putting off coming in to work (because no one looks at me anyway); and part of me always dies a little inside when I realize wearing jeans and a ratty t-shirt isn't a feasible option.

***

The Fork Party

Fork party

I want another camera.

***
I will listen to This American Life now. Hopefully it won't be boring like it was last week.

March 31, 2008

I wouldn't know

what if

I guess these are just sad thoughts. It's hard not to miss someone when you see them in strangers. It's hard to imagine what my dad looks like now, if he's still the same as those pieces of him that I remember. A green suede jacket, some brown slacks, and black leather strap watch. It wasn't hard to draw this figure, especially in the way he's sitting. I can't draw hands but this time I did. And I drew what I imagined.

It's always seemed unnecessary that I even have these thoughts (I've inherited an emotional warmth and a frigid disposition which makes me a confused person). My father is alive, I spoke to him last night. But it's hard to feel like a little piece of him isn't gone forever, especially when he can't bring himself to say he wants to retire with us by his side. It's hard not to miss someone when they aren't a clear part of your life; when their role was once defined and now seems fully exhausted, yet there was never any precise point you can claim this happened.

Being vague is the same as being indecisive, and you can't have the best of both worlds. Maybe this isn't true; maybe I'm saying that because I just finished an Amy Tan story.

March 15, 2008

I want to make clown babies with you.

An Ode to Juanly
Ode to Juanly

In other news, SNL is never funny. Bobby's dog smells like shit.
Live from my houz, it's Saturda-ZzzzzZzzzzzzZZzzZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZ.

March 11, 2008

Like a Banshee

I have taken quite a few sick days in one go (2.5 to be precise). I called out today after being sent home yesterday for having the plague. I emailed my boss an hour ago; she said okay and then proceeded to ask me about the status of a bunch of things I did yesterday. So it looks like I'm working from home to some extent. THAT'S NOT THE POINT OF A SICK DAY!
Home & Work should be like Oil & Water.
Now my sleepiness has gone away and I'm awake and my head hurts. Sonofabitch!

I want to leave this. I'm not equipped to deal with hotel contracts and all this administrative shit. I bring so much of my work stress home with me, part of me hasn't yet come to terms with the fact that I'm not in school anymore, that you're not supposed to think about your job when you leave the place.

I must remember something bigger.
***
1964
1964
1965?
German Kitteh
Cry Baby
Lil' Mama

February 28, 2008

Days & Nights

I feel like my brain is wrecked. It's like I have to use it for all this stupid shit, meanwhile any desire to read a book or do something creative has been completely sucked out of me. I know why, generally speaking; but I think there should be specifics regarding these choices I make.

I go to work everyday. Every morning I wonder, "Do I have to?" or "Should I call in sick?". Then I remember there's something to do and I haven an obligation in order to earn money, not necessarily to contribute to the household, but more or less for my own necessities and selfish reasons (I buy things to ease the pain, I am working on this flaw). Everyday I sit on the train and pretend to sleep, while only thinking incessantly, and dealing with tension all over my body sitting in a cramped seat next to some fat ass.

Everyday I talk to people on google chat. Everyday I find ways to pass the time, whether with work or my own little chores. Everyday I wonder why the bitch who shares my cube has to apply her cheap stinky lotion every 5 minutes (literally), and I feel very angry because she is being passive aggressive when I asked her to please stop twice. Everyday I eat lunch, and get coffee at 2 or 3 with colleagues. I leave at 5 or 5:30 latest. If I go straight home, I reach there around 6:30. If I don't, I see Juanly and we do something together. Sometimes I see other folks, which I wish was more often. Having friends who love you is rare, having those people in close proximity is rarer.

If I go home, I change into sweats, eat dinner and watch tv. Then every other day I work out for about 40 minutes. I stretch, take a shower, dry my hair and sit on my bed with my laptop. Then I call Juanly and we talk between 30 minutes to an hour. Then I fall asleep, wake up and do it all over again.

I don't know how to feel.

January 6, 2008

No Resolutions/Death of a Coat

sarah.stamp
Boo. My computer becomes soooo slow when Photoshop is open. I have yet to move all my music over to my external; this task is followed by a slew of other little things which never seem to get done:

1. Move all media to external hard drive
2. Get real copy of Photoshop (out of my hands)
3. Install software to my tablet
4. Move one of my wall-mounted shelves up to accommodate new bed
5. Dump unwanted clothes in charity bin
6. Clean car
7. Scan negatives/make the most of my Flickr subscription
8. Make my blog awesome

Unfortunately (or fortunately) my ability to do these things has been limited this holiday season for various reasons [NOT excuses!]: i.e., fun, rest, vacation, sleeping, etc.

I was able to clean out my closet and do two loads of laundry after catching a red eye from Las Vegas. Though in my sheer optimism in HOPING that the instructions on the label of my down coat would lead me to cleaner outerwear, this wish was destroyed upon retrieving my coat from the cold wash: the thing was ripped through the bottom inner lining.

I sucked it up, praying the next step of adding three tennis balls with the wet coat in the dryer would at least fair for a fluffy coat---I took the thing out of the dryer, it looked a little dead, maybe because it was likely still damp from the inside, but also probably because so many feathers came out :( I haven't had the nerve to go check on it since, it'll make me sad- that jacket was so warm (but luckily not expensive, plus the zipper got stuck all the time). I would've dry cleaned, except it said DO NOT DRY CLEAN (yes, in caps)

Lesson: Febreeze is always the answer.