Plans (Skip if Uninterested in Personal Bullsh.)

North American Zouk expectations.

Afro Latin Vegas:  That’s in January.

Cleveland Afro-Fusion Dance Festival:  That’s in April

aaaaand

Canada Zouk Congress:  That’s in May.

Zouk is my 2017 goal.  I have a deep hunger to know…   My body wants to be able to move like that.

Along with keeping up with my Hindi, Mandarin, Spanish and learning American Sign Language from scratch..

And learning the lead for Salsa on 1, more Bachata, Bellydance, House, and possibly some West Coast Swing.

Plus getting my mail-order husband over here while simultaneously surviving the Trump presidency (not too hard as I’m white, and not poor, the two things that are really going to give you an edge these four years.  I am a woman though. We’ll see how it goes.)

Bring on 2017.

I really have no ambitions career-wise.  I want to someday do something other than wiping up feces all day.  It’s embarrassing as my best friends are studying at Harvard and Buddhist hippie psychology university respectively (I think its called Naropa).  Everyone is forging ahead into the Look-at-me-I’m-successful realm.  Oh well.  I have no desire to get into debt.

Here have some music, I feel like I’m spewing my own checklist brain-sheisse nonsense, you deserve better.

It’s Zouk music.

Afterthought: If your latin dance is getting boring, learn some House moves. House + Salsa is like when the world discovered salt.

Day three

This was the actual wedding.  We walked in with the bride…. Groom gets a really fun procession with music (baraat)  that I didn’t get to see (as we were representing the bride’s side)

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Escorting the Bride

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The first half.. The couple has to stay up there on the stage while one by one, all the guests come to take pictures with them.  Then we get to go eat while they stay up there for pictures… 

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The have to put these garlands over each other.   You can google what that symbolizes if you feel the need.

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As the bride’s side friends we were supposed to steal the groom’s shoes.  He took the precaution of hiding them in someone’s car.  We stole them from the guests instead.  They had to pay us back in ransom money (I couldn’t do it by the way… steal shoes from some poor little auntie… I let the others do it.)

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The temple (mandir) where all the rituals take place.  She is a Sikh so her parents just politely went along with all the Hindu rituals that aren’t part of their tradition… until about 6 AM

 

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I have no idea what any of it means.  Boyfriend is unhelpful as he doesn’t know either.

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Tryna blend in…

Books and Day Two Wedding + Queen

Just got done reading:

Feed by M. T. Anderson

10/10 would recommend. Is horrifying sorta and all-too prophetic, but all-in-all the only time I make a recommendation is when a book grips me.  You pick up a book and it traps you there until you’re finished.  Books like that should be 738 pages, but then you’d have to call in sick to work wouldn’t you?

Also been reading a lot of PKD, the most memorable and weird being “The Crack in Space” which was just good FUN.  Hit it.

Now for Day Two of the wedding in Mumbai:

This is Sangeet (which means music).  Lots of dance performances, one of which I was supposed to be in, but I slept through the 3-hour practice. whoops.

Not much to see but outfits.

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Me and Bae.  By the time we were all ready it was sooo late.  The poor bride was waiting for us all alone in a room because all the girls had to enter with her.

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Bride

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I’m in the back representing my boyfriend because (#genderstereotypes) he couldn’t really walk in with her.

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They had a nice dance number which I cannot post as a I have the free version of wordpress. Maybe I’ll upload it to youtube and try.

I find it odd to play this song at a wedding, as Queen is about a girl that gets dumped the day before the wedding, but hey! It’s a fun song.  Great movie too.

I got that kind of.

Sorry. More wedding stuff later.  Winter is just so so so long. I don’t want to go to work.  If I had a normal job where I wouldn’t feel bad to call in sick, I’d do it now just for the sake of it.  Gotta drag myself there again.

Not one more winter alone.  

Indian Wedding Part One

Finally got to go to an Indian wedding.  Hindu.

It’s all about the clothing, and the food. Lesser so about the dancing, which is mainly on the second night, and the rituals (third night).  OH AND ESPECIALLY ABOUT THE PHOTOS moreso than anything else.  This poor couple has to stand and take pictures ALL NIGHT.

I tried to get the intel on what the ceremonies mean, but my boyfriend (fiancé? Can I call him that  yet?) is just like “I don’t know, ask my mom”.

So.  It was a three-day affair (which is pretty normal, on the short side even).

It looks absolutely exhausting.  The bride and groom have to be awake until all hours, and don’t really get to sit… or eat.  When I do mine, I would LOVE a one-day wedding, but I’ll settle for two if I have to.  (I overheard my saas saying she thinks two-day weddings are really classy).

First day:  Mehendi night, all the girls get their henna done (Hands only, except the bride who gets it on her feet as well). There is food, and a few dance performances.  Also the bride and groom and their guests get gifts.  We were super late so I didn’t get to see if anything else happened.

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Bride: Post Mehndi, pre makeup.  She’s a babe, and one of my fiancé’s oldest friends. Oh whoops, a rare picture where she gets to sit.  Her grandpa is next to her.  He gave a speech the next night, which I will tell you about in my next post.

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Bride and Groom. Her jewelry is made out of real flowers (sorry you can’t really see clearly, I’ll update later if I can jack one of her pictures off facebook)  You can see the henna on her hands.

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Bae. The one night he wore traditional dress.  I guess it’s a kurta.

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I ain’t even want to get my henna done because I wanted to see the dance performances but my friend made me.  Also I didn’t own any of this clothing.  All was lent by my babe friend, Sukhmani.

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next day henna.

Love and God:  wordspew sequence 27

I think about religion a lot.  The following is not intended to be anything but my brain trying to work through something.  Or my soul. whatever.

The transformation I went through eliminated the box I had for my ideas about deity.  So many different religions. So many boxes.  Why would I limit myself that way? Is there anything wrong with embracing the mystery?

In believing in a “something?”.  That vast unknowable beyond(?)

Religion is wholly separate from rationality.  Love  makes no sense as far as “survival of the fittest”.  Love is the opposite of that.  My life circumstances did me a favor when they took a scalpel to my religiosity and gave me the beating heart of love.  All I needed.

Feelings. Music. Poetry..  What’s the point?  All these things keep me believing in a higher power.

Especially love.  Capital L Love.

I’m in awe of the people that choose to act with and in love, not out of a fear of hell, but just for the sake of it.  That overwhelming sense that this is what one is made for.

Aiiya.  I believe in love more than I believe in justice, fairness, science, rationality, deductive reasoning.  (Of course, I do sometimes depend on that other universe, other arena, in my life as well)

This world blows my mind sometimes.  The kindness that humanity is capable of.

The people I’ve met (Muslim, Christian, Indian, Bangladeshi, LGBTQA, Atheists, Hippies, Native Americans, Africans, and on and on)  amaze me.  Keep me believing in something.

I don’t care to define God.  The Bible is only helpful to me in the passages where love is defined, where these definitions hit me in the soul.  That is where we find a higher power.

Because a higher power doesn’t mean someone with more money, or even more knowledge.  It means greater ability to love.  This is why I never looked for a Christian to marry.  I never found Christians any better than anyone else at loving. Some people just are.  These are the ones who are closer to God.

In my deepest heart of hearts there is something that doesn’t make sense.  That cannot be proven logically. I don’t mind not making sense. That’s why I write poetry.

Religion fails when it creates hard and fast rules.  When it tries to rationalize what is mystical.

Heyyyy so I haven’t been posting here and I’ll tell you why…  I was in Mumbai for a wedding. SO!  There will be pictures when I can organize them but at the moment I just have a PKD excerpt for you:

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Ruth said, “Love isn’t just wanting another person the way you want to own an object you see in the store.  That’s just desire.  You want to have it around, take it home and set it up somewhere in the apartment like a lamp.  Love is”–she paused reflecting–“like a father saving his children from a burning house, getting them out and dying himself.  When you love you cease to live for yourself; you live for another person.”

“And that’s good?”  It didnt sound so good to him.  

“It overcomes instinct.  Instint pushes us into fighting for survival.  Like the pols ringing all the campuses.  Survival of ourselves at the expense of others; each of us claws his way up.  I can give you a good example.  My twenty-first husband, Frank.  We were married six months.  During that time he stopped loving me and became horribly unhappy.  I still loved him; I wanted to remain with him, but it was hurting him.  So I let him go.  You see?  It was better for him, and because I loved him that’s what counted.  See?”
Jason said, “But why is it good to go against the instinct for self-survival?”

“You don’t think I can say.”
“No,” he said.

“Because the instinct for survival loses in the end.  With every living creature, mole, bat, human, frog.  Even frogs who smoke cigars and play chess.  You can never accomplish what your survival instinct sets out to do, so ultimately your striving ends in failure and you succumb to death, and that ends it.  But if you love you can fade out and watch—”

-Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said, Philip K Dick
As usual, he is the absolute KING of science fiction. Read it!