|View from Coit Tower.|
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
When it comes to things like shopping, fashion, makeup, hair and various other girly crap, I tend to rely on my girlfriends (actually, I literally have 3 girlfriends who are good at these things…the others are almost as useless as I am). While there are times I wish I had the ability to style my hair or apply concealer to my face such that it hides my glasses, the one thing that I wish I was really good at is interior decorating.
Here are five simple techniques you should never, ever do while setting up your apartment:
This is a simple one. When hanging a picture up, make sure it is straight. It's such a simple thing to do. Really, I was amazed at how he managed to fuck this one up.
Depending on the layout of your apartment, the wall where you mount or place your TV might be very far away from the actual cable plug. I think architects do that on purpose just to screw with our heads. In any case, if you do end up with an ugly, black cable wire going across the floor or ceiling, know that taping paper towels over the wire will not do a great job of hiding the wires. However, placing a lamp so it illuminates the disgraceful job you've done? That's actually a great idea.
If you're mad cheap, you will feel the impulse to buy furniture from Cragislist in order to decorate your apartment (I'll admit I did this once). Having no furniture is better than having Craigslist furniture. My friend was so pumped about this twenty dollar chair that he insisted I be the first one to try it out. The minute I sat on it, the back of the chair collapsed and I rolled out of it like an aggravated armadillo. He then proceeded to react like that was completely my fault.
If you're too lazy to even hang a picture up, using several other random things to prop it up might seem like a good idea. However, if you do that, you could end up with a ten dollar mirror from Target propping up a five dollar picture you bought off the streets of New York. But, as always, you can never go wrong with placing a lamp right next to whatever shoddy job you've done decorating.
This is the pièce de résistance. My friend was super proud of the neon lights that he bought and placed behind his TV. The lights would illuminate a different color as you watched TV in utter darkness (because he spent money on buying neon lights instead of paying his electricity bills). It was the kind of sketchy, cheesy decorating you'd expect from a pimp. I refused to even step into his living room until he turned off those creepy neon lights.
So, dear readers, I hope you found these decorating tips helpful. I know I did.
And as much as I bashed my friend's decorating skills, if any girl is reading this and is considering him as a potential mate, know that he is actually an amazing guy. Just make sure you decorate the apartment when you move in with him. Oh, and also, you're going to have to do the grocery shopping. His cabinets were so empty, I actually saw tumbleweed roll across the shelves, sorta like in those wild west movies.
|To protect my friend's privacy, I've blurred his face|
|Eh fuck it, here is his face, with everything else blurred. His name is Amol. He sucks at interior decorating.|
Saturday, June 1, 2013
For now, I've included a small excerpt from my book. I hope you like it. Sharing a book with the public is a nerve-wracking process because now that it's out there, you've made yourself vulnerable to everybody's opinions. It almost makes me want to go back to the safe world of blogging where punctuation errors and mediocre content are easily forgiven.
This excerpt is a section from a Chapter about Job Interviews. In the chapter, I cover various types of interviews like phone screens, technical interviews and in-person interviews. This specific excerpt talks about the crazy interviews, usually given by companies like Google or Apple, that ask mind-bending questions like "How many windows are there in the city of Seattle?"
Here we go:
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Of all these, the one course that I absolutely loved was my Poetry class. I had a huge crush on my professor. He was an African American musician who would start narrating a poem in iambic pentameter, turn on some beats and start rapping the poem along with his own lyrics that he would make up on the spot, intertwining poetry and rap like the intricate weaves of a quilt. We were in awe of him and he was totally unaware of it.
I've included three poems that I had written in the course. I hope you won't find them too tedious to read.
The first poem was an assignment on writing an Elegy. I decided to write about one of my grandfathers who suffered from depression. He was not part of my immediate family but, as with any joint family with innumerable grandparents, cousins, et al, I was told he was family and that I should call him grandad. This was simply my perspective of him when I was a kid, so don't ( necessarily ) consider it an accurate representation of him.
If you were to come back to that home;
All because of him.
The ignorant would question the state of
Uncle would make fun and ask
Him: “What was the hardest
Work you did today?”
He would smile and reply to Uncle,
“A lazy man does no hard work.”
Tobacco powder, shooting it up
His nose—coughing violently.
A lithe body lying limp,
Decaying on the bed.
His dark eyes would seek
Out your questioning gaze,
His mind observe your
He would say, “Don’t frown near
Me. I was never heavenly.”
I used to love writing Haikus. This one is about all the seasons of the (East Coast) year. You'll notice there are five stanzas even though there are only four seasons. I added an extra stanza for a season that I made up: that time of the year between winter and spring where you just can't take the harsh cold anymore and you're madly hoping for Spring to arrive. For me, that is my fifth season!
A Season of Haiku
Beating down ill will.
Leaves rustle to peace.
From last night’s iced tea.
To swell tender fruit.
Retain spring juice again.
Lastly, we had to write a Blues poem. I loved the overdramatic, melancholy nature of Blues. It forced even the most jaded people to become hopeless, lovelorn romantics. I remember going through several revisions of this poem and my professor would invariably come back disappointed in me because he felt I wasn't opening up enough. You can assume this was the last revision where he chose to give up on me.
I stare 'cross lonely streets and remember
Burnin' desire on a blues winter night.
Now time’s gone and, baby, so have you.
I see the sun’s up and flowers've bloomed.
Ol' lady Winter’s left but my blues remain.
So I keep strollin' down memory lane
And it drives me insane.
Now, because my Blues poem isn't very good, I felt like I should leave you guys with one that is downright amazing. By Langston Hughes, the below is an excerpt from his poem "The Weary Blues":
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway . . .
He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Monday, February 18, 2013
“What do you mean?” I replied, puzzled.
My manager and my client looked at each other and my manager said, “It’s minus 22 degrees in Kongsberg…I’m talking Celsius”.
|Approaching Kongsberg via train|
|The ski slopes lit at night|
They put me up in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. I’m not kidding when I say it’s compact. The rooms were a little bit like nested Russian dolls: you walk into the living room, and you’d find the kitchen in there too. You walk into the bathroom, and you’d find your laundry room. The person who gave me the quick tour of the place actually walked into the bathroom (while I stood outside because two people would not fit in that space), stepped over the toilet and pushed the shower curtain aside. Next to it sat a washing machine.
After years of being put in hotels, I wasn’t used to fending for myself in an apartment. You have to constantly think about what’s running low and time your shopping accordingly. For instance, I went to the grocery store (which had every kind of cuisine imaginable, btw, including ten different brands of basmati rice. I can’t believe I carried an entire bag across the Atlantic.), and bought all this shit that I’d never use: like Thai Red Chilli paste, Pesto Sauce, Sabayon compote, etc.
|An entire wall of "Hindi" spices can be found at the Kongsberg grocery store|
Meanwhile, I forgot to buy: salt, paper towels, and toilet paper: three items essential to one’s wellbeing, comfort and happiness.
|Second attempt at pasta|
The only thing I was having trouble with was sleep. I couldn’t get over my jet lag. I would come back from work every day, groggy as hell, take a random nap from 6 pm to 8 pm, wake up, cook for myself, eat, and then fall asleep at 11 pm. I would wake up at 2 am fresh as a daisy. I would then watch episodes of Breaking Bad all night and fall back asleep at 6 am. The alarm would go off at 7 am and I’d wake up wanting to kill myself. This went on for an entire week.
|We had gone to Sushi for dinner and at the end of the meal, one of the guys realized the placement of his straw. We instantly became like a bunch of 12-year old boys and started cracking up.|