tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33867500121514612572024-03-13T12:09:43.067-07:00Black Cat WandersA little bit of this, a little bit of that, and all the things the cat sees along her wayAry Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.comBlogger817125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-65651464268044065042022-11-15T12:36:00.001-08:002022-11-15T12:36:56.034-08:00A Piece of Me<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJJgk7JvR5lw-vrqLswpX2N462r7GMD1m02q_rIvOMUtmgv8DL3WVN1T4e9gQxv7jUltdvT1zBZ0DvMn0o5nlCxgnqTDJO6kW3VPeqtCKS8U_51hvcZVU4in2yU_DEnMUMvkZI999rH0piID_L-zBwWtmejuGUoTEsgw_bPCeGG0yyGkf6ipOullXMag"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJJgk7JvR5lw-vrqLswpX2N462r7GMD1m02q_rIvOMUtmgv8DL3WVN1T4e9gQxv7jUltdvT1zBZ0DvMn0o5nlCxgnqTDJO6kW3VPeqtCKS8U_51hvcZVU4in2yU_DEnMUMvkZI999rH0piID_L-zBwWtmejuGUoTEsgw_bPCeGG0yyGkf6ipOullXMag=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7166344564740669298" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId2d1511b6-960e-4bc3-a450-fdd07849ec76" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-2d1511b6-960e-4bc3-a450-fdd07849ec76" src="cid:2d1511b6-960e-4bc3-a450-fdd07849ec76" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">The world is on fire and I am dancing under the chandeliers.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It's upsetting, I know. I am upset at myself, too. Where did that woman go? The fierce woman who is vocal about injustice, who prays day in and night for the safety of those who are hurt? Did the lioness turn into a docile sheep? Was happiness such a lethal drug that leaves me incapacitated?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Maybe I am just fed up with the world. The fear mongering. The scare tactics. The clickbaits and attention seeking. Maybe I am angry at all the anger because they're just that: fiery anger but nothing more. How things should change but we rather not be the one that changes it.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Maybe the world has worn me out so much that I can't help being frustrated and depressed about it. Layer after layer of burdens. Chain after chain of limitations. I could only cry my heart out as nothing I do could make a dent in the world.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But here, here is another world. The soft, loving gaze from my fiancé. The laughter and teases while the group are playing board games. The hugs and jokes as our friends and us plan our next get-together. The joy I see from my cooking.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">In my world, in this little garden of mine, things are grown with care and are loved. I can give enough love and attention to see the flowers bloom, the fruits hanging low, and the crops ready to be harvested.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I still pray. I still weep. I still wish for the good in the world, a future where hurt and harm can be reduced to a minimum. It starts from my home, from my garden, from my world.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Here, world. Take these healthy, happy things. May they nourish you. May they heal you. May you feel glorious because they indeed are. I am but a human and I am limited, but I try my best to leave love and care to those I met. Here world, have a piece of me.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-32833680990187726612022-11-03T18:48:00.001-07:002022-11-03T18:48:18.461-07:00Free Bunny<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkVhkRmJWM7xeMQMhy4H0pfTglVO4NmlGwfryrRUIIctPlAdIsbZ3KpgM2An8OHYNLVmSXf_k1RyYfpl65a1fQ6lBydOi-45kh0HjkEwUQpPVoS_INn2qvxrpSQZ7L-zVgNQaL3_yKvDWzmbYIEA-zbZUgqlp4Q3eivbsMNvbD8KquGgq1-ZsdnAnw4Q"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkVhkRmJWM7xeMQMhy4H0pfTglVO4NmlGwfryrRUIIctPlAdIsbZ3KpgM2An8OHYNLVmSXf_k1RyYfpl65a1fQ6lBydOi-45kh0HjkEwUQpPVoS_INn2qvxrpSQZ7L-zVgNQaL3_yKvDWzmbYIEA-zbZUgqlp4Q3eivbsMNvbD8KquGgq1-ZsdnAnw4Q=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7161971784882408786" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId92229a34-9b9c-45b6-b288-6b232bd9ced9" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-92229a34-9b9c-45b6-b288-6b232bd9ced9" src="cid:92229a34-9b9c-45b6-b288-6b232bd9ced9" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">I jokingly told my fiancé how hard domestic life is for a partnerless salary-woman and I need my house-husband back. He was not a house-husband and life was honestly not that bad.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The thing is, I would never have said those words before. Come rain or shine, I am dependable. People depend on me. I depend on me. Giving up control and letting people take care of me is...weird.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I have to say it's been great, though. The amount of physical and mental relief was amazing. The 25 minutes difference between when he picked me up from the train station vs when I walked home is a difference of HOURS of me staying up to do more things. This is just an example.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Yet if something went wrong, I know what people would say. "You shouldn't have depended on him that much." Or "You shouldn't have loved him that deeply."</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">These words were said to me in every relationship I failed at, romantic or friendship. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But why is it my responsibility, my fault when someone hurt me? Why do I have to pay for the moat and the spikes and the crocodiles in the moat? Why do I have to build the wall?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Due diligence must be taken, for sure. I need to be active in protecting myself. I need to be vigilant for red flags and shittiness all around. But I am not going to stop loving, nor condemning myself in a life of hermitage just because there are a-holes out there.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I have said this so many times and I will say it once more: Do not blame people for trusting. Do not blame people for loving. Blame the people who took advantage of that trust and love.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I refuse to live in a scary world because someone might stab me in the back. When someone betrays me after I love and trust them, it's a reflection of them and not myself.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Some people choose to be petty and miserable like that, but I'll skip it. This bunny is free.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-84509808781468162962022-10-23T23:06:00.001-07:002022-10-23T23:06:17.681-07:00Self Care<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1K7pQhTXf5ST-T0_vWKZWPV7-rQKnvJDJ0I8bpkDthBzC8eRqK8C8_9gW8HHsrltUsc3ZFQlmKnIkf8znCRlnv-WgGI_zKIpEzBNH4rWAUlyB09417Nn1a2ZhXPYXpBubLXtlCKxRx5XEO3Ia1UbjpTVvfyAp1iiuWE77a88g51AD7CngkZ3Unk18jw"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1K7pQhTXf5ST-T0_vWKZWPV7-rQKnvJDJ0I8bpkDthBzC8eRqK8C8_9gW8HHsrltUsc3ZFQlmKnIkf8znCRlnv-WgGI_zKIpEzBNH4rWAUlyB09417Nn1a2ZhXPYXpBubLXtlCKxRx5XEO3Ia1UbjpTVvfyAp1iiuWE77a88g51AD7CngkZ3Unk18jw=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7157956325563933906" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId79acffa0-9034-4403-b39e-113503c58f6b" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-79acffa0-9034-4403-b39e-113503c58f6b" src="cid:79acffa0-9034-4403-b39e-113503c58f6b" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">My therapist helped me realize I am allowed to exist. People are allowed to have boundaries, preferences, feelings, or opinions. That doesn't mean I should constantly erase myself to cater for those, nor that I am a bad person if I want to put my self first.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My therapist helped me see I have no control on people's actions or feelings. I can give my best to the world, and there will still be people who think it's not enough or it's wrong. It's not a slight on my part, and I shouldn't burn myself trying to fix it nor should I think I am a failure.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My therapist helped me accept the concept of being imperfect. If people want to leave me they would, no matter how perfect I am. No human is perfect. My flaws might be acceptable for some but not others. It doesn't make me less. If anything, it allows me to improve myself.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My therapist helped me understand that deciding to love is brave. It takes strength to love. Sometimes you love with all that you have and it still doesn't work. That's ok too. I decided to love, and that's all that matters. My grief or happiness is valid regardless of how good or bad that person was.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My therapist helped me to acknowledge it's ok to be me. I am not everyone's cup of tea and it's ok. Regardless, I deserve the same kindness and compassion I showed other people especially from myself. I am cool enough for me to love.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My therapist is awesome and I am glad I took that step. This is my self care. I feel better, healthier, and in much less pain. Mental health should be as important as our physical health. Have you checked on yours?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-68787730777563670162022-10-21T17:01:00.001-07:002022-10-21T17:01:13.414-07:00Red<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYPJPG2Q49cAmiaCsHDdpIZYOqz-qPbP8vpEfBogcfY55P5fHZw4N_ABglxNIt1HN5ana-Mco-tFpDmNW3YwZddbw92vVNHzIk6gyMRN_DfmicdrWoRSxiqgTcCIifqpb2q7VE2ahzYPF3oeb8iraFFoHDStaXO3zwYHOF7C2qPb8F1dX5Ll7mp021-A"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYPJPG2Q49cAmiaCsHDdpIZYOqz-qPbP8vpEfBogcfY55P5fHZw4N_ABglxNIt1HN5ana-Mco-tFpDmNW3YwZddbw92vVNHzIk6gyMRN_DfmicdrWoRSxiqgTcCIifqpb2q7VE2ahzYPF3oeb8iraFFoHDStaXO3zwYHOF7C2qPb8F1dX5Ll7mp021-A=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7157120077870547954" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId233f4819-873e-4d06-b6a8-66706e06f16b" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-233f4819-873e-4d06-b6a8-66706e06f16b" src="cid:233f4819-873e-4d06-b6a8-66706e06f16b" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">Never thought I'd have a tattoo</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I got one now</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Thought I would be stagnant</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I'm leaping high now</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Said I won't love again </div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Got a fiancé now</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Accepting my city dweller life</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Love my white picket fence now</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Instead of dull gray monochromatic</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I have the brightest red</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Red for speed</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">As we accelerate our life</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">From 0 to 120 in record time</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Red for passion</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">As we indulge our senses</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Savoring every bit the city offers</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Red for strength</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">As we support each other</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">And people whom we love</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Red for love</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The emotions running wild from</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">A glimpse of each other's smile</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Red for majestic</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">A taste of humbling amazingness</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Of this crazy thing called love</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Red for certainty</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Knowing that this is it</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This. Is. It.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Red for warmth</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Radiating from each other's presence</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">And will be there no matter what</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Loving you is red like I'd never known</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The red that made Padmé a queen</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The red of Dany's Drogon</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The red that looks so good on me</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">As I close chapters of my life</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am excited for new ones with you</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Here's to the brightest, warmest red</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The most beautiful one</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">LA has ever seen</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Here's to us.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-79267180520577993572022-10-17T14:57:00.000-07:002022-10-17T14:58:10.677-07:00Sack of Potatoes<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbsGEesHvnGYZueUc9O7H0AgAGnGVm6G2tx8oN2CIl8JUT7aRuzH4BoPuc6s3eNyIKTrZpQ3q3XoXtZj5cG1v_LTJ36FmnB5B0_wGh2KmpcJpwfJDpAcDbwUMG2U_ScaNtTedVeSmhk5tyUtzD7_zlD9OnygOtu2ELeJTKIOGBQqoKiCBAPc5D75B2WA"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbsGEesHvnGYZueUc9O7H0AgAGnGVm6G2tx8oN2CIl8JUT7aRuzH4BoPuc6s3eNyIKTrZpQ3q3XoXtZj5cG1v_LTJ36FmnB5B0_wGh2KmpcJpwfJDpAcDbwUMG2U_ScaNtTedVeSmhk5tyUtzD7_zlD9OnygOtu2ELeJTKIOGBQqoKiCBAPc5D75B2WA=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7155604030770863538" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId44f4a558-34f1-4206-a098-87badedd0aa3" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-44f4a558-34f1-4206-a098-87badedd0aa3" src="cid:44f4a558-34f1-4206-a098-87badedd0aa3" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">I overstepped yesterday. Someone reminded me how my views on a certain subject are always negative. The disappointment in their voice scared me and for a second everything fell apart for me.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Don't get me wrong, I needed that. The reminder is like a cold slap to my arrogance. It forced me to reconsider and recalculate my views. It made me realize my view on that matter was heavily biased by my own trauma and grief, and I should do better.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">What scared me was how much it hurts to not be 'perfect'. That every flaw I have, every wrong and every disagreement will be a valid point to leave me. If I am not good enough, I am in danger of being left behind. Again.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Which is a load of bullsh--. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am imperfect. I am flawed. As much as I want to think how amazing I am, I am not without fault. And that's ok. As long as I strive to do better, as long as I try to give the best for the world, it's ok. And even then, people will still have different opinions, different perspectives on things. And that's ok. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I don't have to be perfect to be loved. Sometimes my imperfections drove people away, and that's ok. That's their prerogative. My job is not to fit in someone else's mold. My job is to be better in any way I can. For myself. For other humans. For the world.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This note is a reminder for myself. Yesterday I started the burlesque class thinking how I looked like a sack of potatoes; an hour later I still looked like a sack of potatoes but with a dangerously seductive smile. I love who I am. I am aware of my imperfections but I love who I am. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This is the level of acceptance where I want to be with my personal awareness. To accept what can't be changed and to change what I can, and still love myself in between. I will get there.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-74938414150988516842022-10-11T10:39:00.001-07:002022-10-11T10:39:28.696-07:00Kingslanding<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNV_28K0N2EVxHi2L1k7PSh8R4bIraPqODbwuvh4BHm0ASs1nRZ-wYQ5GmMVhcbIlp_9dAoizigpO4vOB1KiNEoXjulavDCV3eJpwdwSz5TBUSGcIkGRK6mP8ao2rLS1zxBTQsjkgL2bnxGI2-ZrS6G1vQPblHz4CChsKZDPQ1I1-OlZYO4UgSozhVBg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNV_28K0N2EVxHi2L1k7PSh8R4bIraPqODbwuvh4BHm0ASs1nRZ-wYQ5GmMVhcbIlp_9dAoizigpO4vOB1KiNEoXjulavDCV3eJpwdwSz5TBUSGcIkGRK6mP8ao2rLS1zxBTQsjkgL2bnxGI2-ZrS6G1vQPblHz4CChsKZDPQ1I1-OlZYO4UgSozhVBg=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7153310858263560034" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId90d1134c-1af0-46a9-aa19-5f760221fb06" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-90d1134c-1af0-46a9-aa19-5f760221fb06" src="cid:90d1134c-1af0-46a9-aa19-5f760221fb06" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I think the craziest thing someone could do is doing shocked Pikachu face when a woman turns mad and crazy after being pushed too far.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Lucia di Lammermoor. Daenerys Targaryen. Me.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">We women are emotional. Hormonal. We use our emotion instead of our logic and throw common sense out of the window in lieu of "gut feeling". We are weak. We are unreasonable. We can't be trusted.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Yet we are strong enough to carry the hormonal roller coaster in us. We are strong enough to be the nest of a growing human. We are strong enough to wake up everyday and live a life where people have claims on us just because we are our gender.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">To be told to know our place. To be told to sit still and look pretty. To be expected to always lend helping hands, even if it costs us. To have the water in our well taken continuously until the well is almost dried.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">So we went all out. The fierce fire that we saved to protect our children. The brutal strength we have to weather the world. The sharp wit of many mothers that will occupy the world. We will fight. We will save ourselves. The world, however, went shocked Pikachu face and called us witches and whores.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">All the murders and destruction, all the crazy bits and insane pieces, all the "Damn crazy bitches". All which can be avoidable, had we been put in a place where we don't have to summon hell in order to protect ourselves. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Women are not "difficult", nor "weak". We are human, one of the apex predators in the food chain. We will fight back for our safety, for our deserving place in society. Watch the fire, lovelies. It burns.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-25560153120362256992022-10-07T11:53:00.001-07:002022-10-07T11:53:40.341-07:00FOMO<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmunThbz2HSOTsD2CL38c4pwJPFdIZHQ6wqsCGiGAG1zs1iS8kr8-nXJAJAiErR0YH9d_YYk6K-jiB-jhRmkG-oT7-otBD3_g8T_rU3K_pvumvZoDJ27cC6IWMZem-K83omkkg8TRwhMkW85frDDr24dwJDUJPauwVVhKSmMv49Ze6c2D1bm-r5MYumg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmunThbz2HSOTsD2CL38c4pwJPFdIZHQ6wqsCGiGAG1zs1iS8kr8-nXJAJAiErR0YH9d_YYk6K-jiB-jhRmkG-oT7-otBD3_g8T_rU3K_pvumvZoDJ27cC6IWMZem-K83omkkg8TRwhMkW85frDDr24dwJDUJPauwVVhKSmMv49Ze6c2D1bm-r5MYumg=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7151845634147345826" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId4b9b242c-371c-4bd2-9954-1ceed230397c" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-4b9b242c-371c-4bd2-9954-1ceed230397c" src="cid:4b9b242c-371c-4bd2-9954-1ceed230397c" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature"><div id="ymail_android_signature">To the person who told me my office sucked: no, it doesn't. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Could I get a better job elsewhere? I probably could. Get rolling in dollah, be the best possible career-lady I can, short of looking back with a sneer and a degrading "So long, sucker!"</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Instead, I stayed. It wasn't easy, but I opted for loyalty instead of opportunity. I can safely say that the bet paid off. I am glad I stayed until I really had to go.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I would be called complacent. I would be called lazy or even scared of the future. I would be called unambitious. Maybe they are right. Maybe I am just afraid of change, or I have too little self-confidence to make it work.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Or maybe, just maybe, I choose to be loyal.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">In this fast-paced world, there's always something better out there. Work, dating, food, everything is ever-changing. It feels if you are not chasing for the next big thing, you're gonna bite the dust. The FOMO is huge and is real.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But what if you found your comfort? As long as you don't bother others, what's so bad about gently cradling what you have in your hand for, say, forever and a day?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">We have to come to terms that not everything needs to be fixed. That it's ok to love or be loyal to something that's less than perfect. That loyalty is a gift we presented to others, and a reflection of our good nature. No one else other than ourselves can dictate to whom our loyalty should lie.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It's ok to be loyal. It's ok to choose something less than stellar. It's ok to choose Faramir over Aragorn. It's ok to give yourself the kindness and grace to choose. It's ok to trust yourself.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">And if someone tries to take that agency from you, especially without considering your opinion on the matter: F*** 'em. Or for some, stop f***ing 'em.</div></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-60441021500544956392022-10-03T16:34:00.001-07:002022-10-03T16:34:23.730-07:00Damnatio Memoriae<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgn5nPrMpFInEfJwdnlyJf5oTZAlgrKgeMQaAyNEYHD5THTSTG-4pKPwTHJ96fp8Sc5EpyNvyt_S5T2VVKhF2uR6HooKhlOy-nEcDQVgh-DRj3uRNO_TuZKlbpaE2nUr7QWYx-VWCGzY3b9scy30nqQMDGC3rz0-olKEnSQF9dJBNkSS2jwS9igbya6Bg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgn5nPrMpFInEfJwdnlyJf5oTZAlgrKgeMQaAyNEYHD5THTSTG-4pKPwTHJ96fp8Sc5EpyNvyt_S5T2VVKhF2uR6HooKhlOy-nEcDQVgh-DRj3uRNO_TuZKlbpaE2nUr7QWYx-VWCGzY3b9scy30nqQMDGC3rz0-olKEnSQF9dJBNkSS2jwS9igbya6Bg=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7150433634730463106" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdec332977-6a90-462a-b167-e025071e39ec" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-ec332977-6a90-462a-b167-e025071e39ec" src="cid:ec332977-6a90-462a-b167-e025071e39ec" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><p dir="ltr"><br></p> <p dir="ltr">Yesterday my partner took the initiative to put my parents' photo up on the mantelpiece. I didn't realize it until just before we went to bed. I tried to hold back my tears; I really did. It didn't work and I fell into a sobbing mess in his arm, thanking him over and over again.</p> <p dir="ltr">This was the first time someone I'm with respected my parents. One tried to hurt them as retaliation to me. Another one didn't give a damn but wanted me to care for his. And yet another one coldly told me that going low contact with them is better, citing my family issues that I shared with him.</p> <p dir="ltr">But that's not how love works. Whatever comes, I still love them. I will still care and will try to help them if I can. I can have boundaries, sure. I can accept that people love in different ways, and maybe not the way I want to be loved. The love, however, and the care, never stopped.</p> <p dir="ltr">For some, love ends. Lines drawn. Roles reassigned. Perks retracted. Some even went "damnatio memoriae" and erase every trace of the other person's existence. They implied that still feeling that warmth is a sign of weaknesses, that we are not ready to let go.</p> <p dir="ltr">I used to feel weak and ashamed because of that. That I am so 'co-dependent' and have such low self-confidence I can't bear to cut contact with people who hurt me. Yet did I not walk away when I must save myself? Did I not stand up, brush myself, tend my wounds, and live my life (somewhat) normally after?</p> <p dir="ltr">Life is pain. Existence is pain. We want to build walls and borders around ourselves because we think that could save us from harm and pain. Love is a venom that seeps through and breaks the barrier. It's ok if this is your choice of self-protection. I just don't want to do this anymore.</p> <p dir="ltr">Being able to love is not a weakness. Being able to see people for who they are and not just what their role to us is, honestly, a pretty rad trait to have. A person's bad trait and good deed can exist simultaneously. Humans *are* multifaceted. Accepting both means you have accepted the person as a whole.</p> <p dir="ltr">I don't want to apologize anymore for being a loving person. My heart is a giant offrenda filled with candles of those who touched my heart. Their flickers light my soul and warm it in the harsh days of life. Whether the person stayed or left, whether it was messy or consensual or simply drifted apart, it doesn't matter. I was loved. I loved. </p> <p dir="ltr">And you know what? That was enough.</p></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-69023150093947448392022-09-19T07:33:00.001-07:002022-09-19T07:33:35.739-07:00Bridges<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgg7uRVujPb2VfHTeafT_V2-tjdpTXit5puJt8wz6TUjr7UnfSFRwYNA6VPQGUq2IrQE-vEL0rWQ6Sq0iK2P6ubaLBCdbW4qOhyN0Gry_IaqyhnAuVE5R2W835L05Lu-6ebCMlnLe97bu0ssqNl85h2E6E97dTsogLX5DTCCxjLrmftZhxXEZTKXoVM9Q"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgg7uRVujPb2VfHTeafT_V2-tjdpTXit5puJt8wz6TUjr7UnfSFRwYNA6VPQGUq2IrQE-vEL0rWQ6Sq0iK2P6ubaLBCdbW4qOhyN0Gry_IaqyhnAuVE5R2W835L05Lu-6ebCMlnLe97bu0ssqNl85h2E6E97dTsogLX5DTCCxjLrmftZhxXEZTKXoVM9Q=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7145099078766671730" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdb4898f0c-60f8-43dd-8562-63d824999991" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-b4898f0c-60f8-43dd-8562-63d824999991" src="cid:b4898f0c-60f8-43dd-8562-63d824999991" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">I wrote "Witch Fire" a year ago. It was a heart-wrenching piece of what happened when I tried to set boundaries. That's when I started to burn bridges or actively avoid them, because I finally learned to put myself first.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The backlash was intense. I questioned myself. I cried. I almost begged for forgiveness. I was lonely and crushed. I, however, stick to my decisions. My feelings were valid, and I refused to bow down.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It felt like finding myself in a dark street without any light, with only my stubborn pride leading the way. Yet there was help. The comment on the post. My other friends with shoulders to cry on and ears to listen. Hugs and laughter when I needed them the most.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Last week things turned out really bad for me. I still receive the support from my old friends, and also from new ones that I chance-meet because of the path I take from avoiding the bridges, burned or not. A lengthy phone call. Flowers. Hugs and assurance, all of the hugs and assurance.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I found a phrase on Reddit "May the bridges you burn light the way". And oh how bright those bridges burn. Bright enough to see the loving faces around me and to find the path I want to be on. Bright enough to shape my soul.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am still grieving but I will be better. I am blessed. I am loved. I am grateful.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-1259058386825409252022-09-15T16:27:00.001-07:002022-09-15T16:27:36.367-07:00Not to My Liking<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKniHGFkhUR_YXVIVA1ObfckXPN0VUAYISdAIMDM9smXGlcCORiHggldGS7LkiTxcdutsB9JmD0UR9SKFlSQUtDC97ccHOoXt7NCru26OWJJNpndRdZ8mA6hL5LiCdZtAOfbxKX_Aexiak579btDz8qxGqNEccjG42XbAwSF6IuiRVlOkCFgtH0uX-tA"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKniHGFkhUR_YXVIVA1ObfckXPN0VUAYISdAIMDM9smXGlcCORiHggldGS7LkiTxcdutsB9JmD0UR9SKFlSQUtDC97ccHOoXt7NCru26OWJJNpndRdZ8mA6hL5LiCdZtAOfbxKX_Aexiak579btDz8qxGqNEccjG42XbAwSF6IuiRVlOkCFgtH0uX-tA=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7143752347807496322" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId7e578d63-d059-4f0d-a6f0-bbb27aef38e0" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-7e578d63-d059-4f0d-a6f0-bbb27aef38e0" src="cid:7e578d63-d059-4f0d-a6f0-bbb27aef38e0" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I just ugly cried because of this line in the new Disenchanted trailer: "If this world is not to your liking, then you must change it."</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">So many things are happening right now that I feel like the ground has disappeared under my feet. Finding a new job. Moving out. Getting treatments. Losing my best friend. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I hate myself for this. I was supposed to change my job eons ago. I am putting myself at risk by letting go of my apartment. I cried so much and I am so depressed. My poor boyfriend is the equivalent of poor Harry trying to date Cho Chang. The waterworks just don't stop. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am tired. I am overwhelmed. I feel weak. I just want to not feel anymore. I have lost this battle. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Yet I made those decisions. I like my current company so much I don't want to change it. I like having my options even though it led to my current treatment. I know where I want to be, and that's not where I live right now. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">As relationships go, both romantic and friendship, I call the shots when they are no longer healthy for me. When my world is not to my liking, I changed it. I want to say for better or worse, but the reality is I always changed it for the better. The better for me. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I grieved so much. I am still grieving. I am still scared. I haven't found a job yet. I don't know how my healthcare will be. My future looks bleak and my confidence is shot. Yet I know now: When I don't like my world, I change it. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am getting there. You'll see.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-78962617323457786042022-09-12T11:29:00.001-07:002022-09-12T11:29:48.814-07:00Terrible World<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdPBPdZawflczDeTY_Lrb2AnIDo9UBEoNTRmRJ8JS_KYbNVvzNwIYx4im22rl_B4iZAL4_Wo0-8pkCOFvrBnd4Us7ZtVVse5T-cKlHZ-vFT0hLV_vn9zhuv949kPaKNyqVPK9FDl7Z2jQ_YSYkg_M8Y-Tamf7vLLtXQONaAeXzL4Uaosd4_Zw9cXjyVg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdPBPdZawflczDeTY_Lrb2AnIDo9UBEoNTRmRJ8JS_KYbNVvzNwIYx4im22rl_B4iZAL4_Wo0-8pkCOFvrBnd4Us7ZtVVse5T-cKlHZ-vFT0hLV_vn9zhuv949kPaKNyqVPK9FDl7Z2jQ_YSYkg_M8Y-Tamf7vLLtXQONaAeXzL4Uaosd4_Zw9cXjyVg=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7142562353687655010" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdda2588b8-a30e-49ef-b2f6-e275698ff566" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-da2588b8-a30e-49ef-b2f6-e275698ff566" src="cid:da2588b8-a30e-49ef-b2f6-e275698ff566" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">The world is a terrible place to be. I hate it here.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">On the drive to work we listened to the deadly insulin prices. About anti-abortionist who decided since she was raped and regretted her abortion then it applies to other people. About wildfires.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The world is horrible. The people are even worse.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It makes me question why am I even here. Still not good enough for nirvana, obviously. Yet most people are simply Gollums with better masks. They'll steal and kill and hurt to protect their 'precious'. Such loathsome creatures. I don't want to be here anymore. It hurts. It's stupid. It's making me angry.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Yet there are meals to cook and cakes to bake. There are laughter and games to be played. There are books to read and movies to watch. There are hands to hold and lips to kiss. There are shoulders and a chest to lay my weary head on. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Right now I still hate it here. But it's not so bad. It really is not so bad.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-59923502204885463572022-09-06T11:41:00.001-07:002022-09-06T11:41:20.419-07:00Wealth<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQpcnz--oYlvVsSG7bhCfNXKGmxvdQwTXbyhB7aVQ13LS7atYCODECivGNeb5lwRouphjUsMIhyW-eGLUQQ1h8qW4Lq-h5TSa9UnPvDVe9IaT1aMbqt_4hz6px8-sZSKrI1xGdB0gQU2FOa4rnr9iJzwQ5dbWmuYNt1IXRcAs2LAxVvPb7RZRFp8I-2Q"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQpcnz--oYlvVsSG7bhCfNXKGmxvdQwTXbyhB7aVQ13LS7atYCODECivGNeb5lwRouphjUsMIhyW-eGLUQQ1h8qW4Lq-h5TSa9UnPvDVe9IaT1aMbqt_4hz6px8-sZSKrI1xGdB0gQU2FOa4rnr9iJzwQ5dbWmuYNt1IXRcAs2LAxVvPb7RZRFp8I-2Q=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7140338815749658610" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId180428e4-7a09-4a84-a58a-13ef1a9ddfe3" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-180428e4-7a09-4a84-a58a-13ef1a9ddfe3" src="cid:180428e4-7a09-4a84-a58a-13ef1a9ddfe3" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">I took a long nap instead of doing chores yesterday. It was a privileged moment. Being able to ignore chores and resting in a safe, comfortable place is wealth indeed. Getting cold, clean water to drink was bliss. I cooked a simple meal and it's again a sign of wealth. The kitchen space, the spices, the instant pot and nonstick pans, the sharp knives.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">We think of wealth as equity building, with numbers and brands. Millions and billions of dollars are a lot, but so does the ability to rest. The unpaid days off I took when I can't deal with life, the rideshares and takeout I paid when I am overwhelmed, all of these are my 'Hit button on emergency' which I am privileged to afford. Even my therapy sessions are a privilege, despite the fact that I can barely afford them.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It looks bad. It sounds bad. It's not. Not by a long shot. I am privileged. I am wealthy. I have a safe place where I can rest and heal. I have people helping me and keeping me safe. I am protected from the elements, from lack of basic necessities. I can shower, I have clean clothes, I have food and water. There's only one way and it's going up. I have handrails ffs, with lights illuminating every step of the stairs.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">What is that to say for other people not as privileged as me? Those who still have to toil under LA's severe heatwave? Those who can't afford the 'hit button on emergency'?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It's time we see comfort and mental health as something equally important as physical health. A broken mind will eventually break a healthy body. The tension from stress and anxiety is hell to our bodies, and it easily led us to unhealthy behavior to cope with it. It's time we start seeing humans as a whole: body and soul. An increased minimum wage with no safe place to live and no time to better yourself is not an answer.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">When you champion for change, remember this note. When you want to better the lives of the unprivileged, remember this note. We can make the change. We should make the change.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-19935582385846703792022-08-30T09:11:00.001-07:002022-08-30T09:11:11.667-07:00Wholesome<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggLAnVO6WHJeN2NqjtNvDg5cvGgDjm0J-mwzk1O3Q1akFlrmDNRT8VGcA3t7PTkfXC06T1RDENl5YGYp_YFj8Edspzl7yCj13RWiIimwuplwa0hAvxLiVdx2XOg6zax3QYhg1BeVTGOpk_-W5anx1sqjssLfFzoy1TRBRR8OvDALtbXOU0Hro3WkEPHg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggLAnVO6WHJeN2NqjtNvDg5cvGgDjm0J-mwzk1O3Q1akFlrmDNRT8VGcA3t7PTkfXC06T1RDENl5YGYp_YFj8Edspzl7yCj13RWiIimwuplwa0hAvxLiVdx2XOg6zax3QYhg1BeVTGOpk_-W5anx1sqjssLfFzoy1TRBRR8OvDALtbXOU0Hro3WkEPHg=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7137702527203178018" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId99d09d56-4ec9-4770-b1d3-14e795e0dda8" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-99d09d56-4ec9-4770-b1d3-14e795e0dda8" src="cid:99d09d56-4ec9-4770-b1d3-14e795e0dda8" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">"You are a wholesome person." </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I needed that. 2021 and 2022 have been challenging for me. Another news just dropped yesterday and I spiraled down pretty quickly.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">All the what-ifs, all the I-told-you-so. Are the pesto flags actually marinara flags? Am I, yet again, dancing to my destruction? Do I deserve this full-priced happiness instead of the ones I usually get from clearance bin?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My boyfriend told me I am a wholesome person. Sitting on the bed in his home in Florida, fingers intertwined and the sound of thunderstorm outside, that moment I believed him.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Being alone in the heat-scorched LA is a different thing. No matter how hard I try to assure myself, it comes out as a loathsome brag. Those who are truly good won't need to tell the world they are good.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But I am not telling the world, am I? I am telling myself. I need to learn to hype myself like I would hype others. I need to love and trust myself just like I love and trust others. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I don't need to be perfect. I can be both wholesome and with flaws. I am responsible in fixing my flaws, but it will not take away my wholesomeness. I am still me. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">And with that, I have to learn to talk back to my douchebag brain. I can't control feelings or emotions of others, or the outcome of anything, even when I did my best. And it's ok. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Whatever comes, I will be ok. I know that.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-84342149528702919322022-08-11T14:22:00.001-07:002022-08-11T14:22:56.464-07:00Grief<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhApcdpLhkkxDdGrNwSaB_j7m5i-dViRlm96ZOiEsl6LOTWUim-328aMqifl5hE0YZYUI-IHjsOYtdUA9QJgcH6zCgdixt4AKj6O7g4n-DvCUnnF3gPePZzzvjqk_O2FPBbH0X95YnyVBO3XeIXN39A7fARQwC05a-lBuuEb-NX_9LQW-5k9j-jGVbr8Q"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhApcdpLhkkxDdGrNwSaB_j7m5i-dViRlm96ZOiEsl6LOTWUim-328aMqifl5hE0YZYUI-IHjsOYtdUA9QJgcH6zCgdixt4AKj6O7g4n-DvCUnnF3gPePZzzvjqk_O2FPBbH0X95YnyVBO3XeIXN39A7fARQwC05a-lBuuEb-NX_9LQW-5k9j-jGVbr8Q=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7130732239442206274" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdba6b0414-b4f7-447d-8582-27ed2b7f6e72" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-ba6b0414-b4f7-447d-8582-27ed2b7f6e72" src="cid:ba6b0414-b4f7-447d-8582-27ed2b7f6e72" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature"><div id="ymail_android_signature">Today I grieved. Again.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It is so exhausting, isn't it?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The crashing waves that shook your boat</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Just when you think the sea is calm</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The journey is good</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">And you are safe</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But oh no here comes the wave</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Salt water on your wound</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Cold and soaked through your bone</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Unspeakable pieces of, uh, something?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">You wanted to cry</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">You thought you did so well</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">You have been brave</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">You did your best</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">And the wave just crashing down</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">What a loser I am</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Crying over a wave of grief</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I wasn't taught to be weak</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Nor does the grief deserving my attention</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I should do better</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But what if, what if</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">What if me crying is not a sign of weakness</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It's a sign of strength</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Of how deeply I love</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">How strongly I care</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">What if I didn't cry for inconvenience of the present</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But for what things could be</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">For the promise of the future</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">That now will never be</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Sigh. This sucks.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My clothes are dry</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My boat is moving</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">All that's left is my journey</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I shall move on</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The wave will come crashing again</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But I will be ready</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Maybe not the next one</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Definitely sometime in the future</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The sea is vast</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My journey is long</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I will keep moving on.</div></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-49650748003067140142022-08-09T11:24:00.000-07:002022-08-09T11:25:01.820-07:00How Does Our Garden Grow<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCrDXKREHxJMis14l861Rk1uiCN9pNEl7G0G1bHzUqOPdtkPRB_XJvfCk9Vjx5Kgzl8egbr5qBeY8btGKO9lLTWrfk0Q9FttoCHMNjxrR8So4zGewbXeBBoeNm8snzHQAzs6OteayBqqY46FDMLzAvphfmEztEkzYZoLE8Xcc_Xdvqy8O2chzVz6Tfbw"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCrDXKREHxJMis14l861Rk1uiCN9pNEl7G0G1bHzUqOPdtkPRB_XJvfCk9Vjx5Kgzl8egbr5qBeY8btGKO9lLTWrfk0Q9FttoCHMNjxrR8So4zGewbXeBBoeNm8snzHQAzs6OteayBqqY46FDMLzAvphfmEztEkzYZoLE8Xcc_Xdvqy8O2chzVz6Tfbw=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7129944226186814722" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId583fe770-70ea-41f5-a9e3-1bae593c5cd0" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-583fe770-70ea-41f5-a9e3-1bae593c5cd0" src="cid:583fe770-70ea-41f5-a9e3-1bae593c5cd0" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">It was almost 80 F this morning and I was sweating myself out as I walked uphill to my office from my bus station. I really wanted to call rideshare. I really did. But then I thought about how the temperature will keep going up, and how horrible it would be for other less fortunate people. Those who live without AC or proper housing. Those who live in the streets. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I choose to walk instead. This is me in solidarity with those people, I thought. Not unlike those who carry the cross on Easter procession, this is me acknowledging and being a part of my brothers' and sisters' despairs.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Which is a load of bullsh--.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I was using a nice umbrella and a pair of designer prescription sunglasses. My backpack contained all the yummy things for breakfast and lunch. I will have the cold, blissful AC and icy water to drink from once I arrived at work. I will come home to a comfy bed and a safe house to rest my so-called weary soul. And if, God forbid, something happened in between, I will have ways to escape and find safety.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am fortunate. I am privileged. I am blessed.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Someone once replied to the accusations of people abusing drugs using welfare money with "Of course they are. What else can they do?" It was life-changing for me. What would you do if the world seems against you, if living is a constant pain, if the future is an abstract concept? What would you do if you don't have hope and you can't even dream?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">We become reckless and selfish. We take and take and take. We exhaust every possible way to gain control, to escape from the world that does not welcome us. Drugs, alcohol, bad decisions. Anything to numb our pain, anything to feel something else other than what a worthless life we have.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Yet as the heat beat down the streets of Los Angeles, we, these people, are nothing but numbers. Those who are unfortunate. Those who made bad decisions. Those who invariably will get very, very hurt as the summer heat rose with little to no help available for them.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">We failed them. One can argue that there's no way to prevent someone from making less-than-stellar decisions or seemingly refusing to better themselves, but options should be available. If we found ourselves where we are unable to hope or dream, or to see anything past the next day, is it really a life worth living?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am here, comfortably sheltered from the heat, thanks to the privileges I carried. My ability to hope and dream, and my problem-solving skill, are all thanks to where and to who I was born. And with that, so do many of the people around me. We grow exponentially in this lush soil of a garden, making it the most wondrous yet.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I want the same thing from the world beyond this garden. Where one must survive through cracks in the concrete, vying for the last polluted drop of water, and toughen oneself after the inevitable crush by unwary feet over and over again. I want them to have lush soil too for them to grow. A place to hope and dream and bloom to their best potential.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Because they are not pests. They are not weed. They are not invasive or ugly or have poor outcomes or are useless. They are beautiful, and they deserve the same chance we are. They deserve to be sheltered from this relentless heat. It is time for us to grow our garden properly.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-7940072278649807792022-08-04T17:04:00.001-07:002022-08-04T17:04:25.638-07:00Traditions<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1BX3cVBREZowYQtKccsRX0mIVxzx5S7Yb7QAj-y86zmA4EXzF4hrG0KFejpLMsGL38uJ5LYZuuwftiap-O9jJTv8jisySSj3IeekHZo-FjhfMB13MYXjbu9atr58CPghigJOyoawxJTe9SDQ_wTKTcBQGvgQXtKZI1U3W0s_Yt7rLmwBquf4p3zWeBw"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1BX3cVBREZowYQtKccsRX0mIVxzx5S7Yb7QAj-y86zmA4EXzF4hrG0KFejpLMsGL38uJ5LYZuuwftiap-O9jJTv8jisySSj3IeekHZo-FjhfMB13MYXjbu9atr58CPghigJOyoawxJTe9SDQ_wTKTcBQGvgQXtKZI1U3W0s_Yt7rLmwBquf4p3zWeBw=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7128176262911653346" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId8ab0bb6d-5c8c-4ec7-b62d-2259407edb03" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-8ab0bb6d-5c8c-4ec7-b62d-2259407edb03" src="cid:8ab0bb6d-5c8c-4ec7-b62d-2259407edb03" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">"Our traditions are disappearing, respect for our values is fading." ~ The druid of Bleobheris</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It excites me to no end to see the little pronouns at the end of the e-mail I receive from the Natural History Museum. She/her/hers. Yes girl, I thought to myself, claim your identity.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Truth to be told, as an ESL speaker I couldn't care less about what your pronouns are. This is purely from a grammatical POV. The Indonesian language doesn't have gender pronouns. Keep in mind that I have spent 9+ years in the US and learned English since I was 8 or younger. I am proud to say that my poor partner has resorted to trying to guess what gender I am talking about using context only because I will use the wrong pronouns. Ok, probably not proud. I am trying really hard here but it just doesn't stick.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Then why should I be so happy looking at the gender pronouns on the e-mail? It doesn't affect me, right?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But it does. It does affect me. The great thing about the US, the one thing that differentiates the US from other countries, is the freedom of choice. It is literally what builds the US. A bunch of people saying " 'Aight imma head out" to preserve what they think is sacred to them, and boom viva le capitalism. Being able to place those pronouns when many parts of the US are simply against it is a symbolic freedom of choice. Pretty much what I am here for.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It's scary to some. As the druid says, for some our traditions are disappearing and respect for our values is fading. But what really is the tradition? What really is the value? </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Human is a wonderful, amazing creations. We solve problems in a scary record time. We evolve as quickly as the seasons. We adapt, we conquer. Unlike sharks and crocodiles and alligators and other ancient relics, we stay alive for so long not because we have the optimum design from nature. We stay alive for so long because we know how to deal with challenges along the way.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Traditions and values have one main purpose: survival. This is why we have different traditions and different values from different parts of the world. This is also why we have different traditions and values from different time periods. At some point, for example, one stay-at-home parent is needed due to the lack of access to resources and childcare. With what we have right now, both in terms of resources and challenges, SAHP is either moot or unaffordable. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Either way, the world is changing as it always is. We've sped up the changes of the earth with our climate-related actions, but even without our existence, the world is always changing. Humans are also always changing. Traditions and values come and go to suit new challenges and thus ensuring survival. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Maybe, maybe the current challenge to survive in this world is to accept ourselves. Thus, the need to find our identity. The knowledge of who we are, what we are, and what we are capable of would be our bows and arrows to ensure our survival, to find our footing in this ever-changing world. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This is the new, current tradition and values. One that surely will be replaced in the future as we adapt to the challenges of the future, and so on and so forth. The future is an ever-changing Boggart that is ready to pounce and strike with our deepest, darkest fear. Traditions and values is the spell "Riddikulus" that breaks them.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Honestly, coming from us sharpening stones and flints not so long ago with really low life expectancy, this is not so bad.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-56184286348252000202022-08-02T11:43:00.000-07:002022-08-02T11:44:06.572-07:00Good Enough<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFhQtJxvp0wGbmG0kNEkuQq3lWJ6x4ILuzcvthlJYr5NiPqlI_zHC4RxEuJMfS8gCdBQYT9867NumID-jb3aeHaDaatjDbmfqO89ihHvebF4AZyhYfzp3hFA9ESHAaxsER2TS_2BmTi2GYqzlyVwbUWnCkbbb1SRehxSQqg1f7UgHtNl0zd-W3_28cBg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFhQtJxvp0wGbmG0kNEkuQq3lWJ6x4ILuzcvthlJYr5NiPqlI_zHC4RxEuJMfS8gCdBQYT9867NumID-jb3aeHaDaatjDbmfqO89ihHvebF4AZyhYfzp3hFA9ESHAaxsER2TS_2BmTi2GYqzlyVwbUWnCkbbb1SRehxSQqg1f7UgHtNl0zd-W3_28cBg=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7127351549296108082" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdb16a445d-862f-428e-9036-7cb0112b370d" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-b16a445d-862f-428e-9036-7cb0112b370d" src="cid:b16a445d-862f-428e-9036-7cb0112b370d" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am good enough.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I keep telling myself this. I am good enough. Sometimes it works and it makes me smile. Sometimes the vicious voices win, and it all sounds fake. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But I am good enough.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Just me, alive, is good enough. Me, being friendly. Me, being nice. Me, doing my best to make this world a better place.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Just me, like this, is good enough. Me, with my breakdowns. Me, a little overweight. Me, with my weird accent and confusing train of thoughts.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">There are so many good things about me. There are so many bad things as well. But I am good enough. I can't always be the good guy, and that's ok. I am the villain in someone else's story, and that's ok. I can't change how people think about me, good or bad or so so, and that's ok.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Yet even with all that, even if I am the most meh person ever lived, I am still good enough. We are born with a purpose. We are given the opportunity to change the world, to help others. But even if, even if we failed that purpose, the fact that we are a bunch of cells and electricity being put together and working out just fine is already good enough.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Us living, breathing is good enough. The countless neuron synapses worked together, the beating heart and the ever-diligent blood cells, the brain and eyes and other senses working overdrive to keep us alive while processing the wonders of the world. This is good enough. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I want to keep writing about why I am good enough, but that's the point. I shouldn't. I shouldn't need to justify why I am good enough. I am here, alive. I am here, doing my best. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">There was never a time for me to beg, plead, or implore that I am good enough because I shouldn't ever have to. Because those whom I need to convince have already decided their mind. Because the only input that matters is from myself. And I will say this: I am good enough.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am good enough. Even when my trauma told me no. Even when others told me no. I can't please everyone and that's ok. I am good enough.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-85410490958515779902022-07-01T13:53:00.001-07:002022-07-01T13:53:24.084-07:00Sanctity of Life<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjH-bk-skJOrwvqmwYKRhCtjiEbJrHHGUDCzdVzXinMfxpkkn_Yl4ULxi1vdWxLRG7Fq54uo_CNihwUvRiDRco-shsup6Pd8UreNk99Tp-6zAGG4CjElJHL_rdGcDOt-1bJwLdex1V6capuVmGrZGYoeSwH94PXDKIUAtNeKM9MkM0QlO4GKqqKoI0JXA"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjH-bk-skJOrwvqmwYKRhCtjiEbJrHHGUDCzdVzXinMfxpkkn_Yl4ULxi1vdWxLRG7Fq54uo_CNihwUvRiDRco-shsup6Pd8UreNk99Tp-6zAGG4CjElJHL_rdGcDOt-1bJwLdex1V6capuVmGrZGYoeSwH94PXDKIUAtNeKM9MkM0QlO4GKqqKoI0JXA=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7115510140315544786" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdcb2d617b-11be-423a-8975-cff370210f5c" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-cb2d617b-11be-423a-8975-cff370210f5c" src="cid:cb2d617b-11be-423a-8975-cff370210f5c" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">I wonder how abortion rights would be if men or people with penis think carefully before putting their penis inside a woman.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">An ex once told me he never pays for women, and that sex is sacred and when he has sex with his partner(s) he already considers marrying them beforehand. Let's imagine that this is true, wouldn't this be nice? </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Sex can indeed be a religious experience. When you consider it as a commitment to marriage and raising a family together, you too would be very, very picky on where you put your dick in. After all, isn't that what the patriarchy and holy texts are about? Whatever your religion is, fathers and husbands are often seen as the head and the guide of the family. Isn't it the shepherd's task to choose the right flocks and to take care of the flocks they have?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Imagine going on dates where men want to see if you are the right person to build a family with, and not just immediately whipping dicks out the moment you smile a little too eagerly. Imagine being with people who sat next to you and discussing at length what would happen if the, ah, entwinement, produce a viable human being. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Even if all these magical things happen, the person carrying the baby still has the final say. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I used to cringe in distaste with jokes about abortion. I don't believe in 'taking lives'. There's an episode of my favorite anime series where the antagonist is a malevolent spirit created by the many aborted babies. That used to be what came first to my mind when I thought about abortion: this hideous being floating angrily for being wrenched away from a promised life.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">That me was a sheltered me. A girl who thinks abortion is only for people who choose a shitty partner, on which they shouldn't have sex before marriage anyway. Abortion is only for tramps and whores who can't keep their legs closed. I was going to find someone, get married, and have kids. Abortion was never going to be an issue for me.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Except that it was always an issue. Coming to America was a game-changer for me. I was no longer trapped in societal confinement and my sexuality blooms. I have a future now that doesn't hinge on whether I am married or not. Abortion now is definitely on the table. I made the decision of using a birth control implant for 9 years now, and even though for me I don't think I can go through with abortion I am very very grateful that I have no kids whatsoever with my ex-partner.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This is something I failed to see until I come to the US. People back home have abortions too. Out of convenience. Out of shame. Out of abuse. Out of the desire to escape abuse. Out of the desire to pursue a better life. The people I know who went through with it are who and where they are because of it. My firsthand experience with kids and actual marriage also makes me realize how horrifying that commitment is. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">If the sanctity of life is the reason to ban abortion, then shouldn't it be started from the moment the 'making of' happened? One woman getting laid with 10 different men in a day can only conceive one time, and that's an if. One man getting laid with 10 different women in a day can potentially get 10 babies (cough cough Nick Cannon). Wouldn't the burden be on men/sperm donors to protect this sanctity of life at any cost? Including providing for the said woman/women and the future DNA vessel(s) should his seed result in a viable human being?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"> </div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This is not just because and/or when they are 'caught', but from the get-go to the extent of them not having sex unless to someone that they are willing to be committed to for 18+ years. Or take necessary precautions. Nobody in their right mind, should they protect the sanctity of life, should be ok with doing it raw. What if the partner missed her pill or didn't take it? I am on birth control because I know I can't always guarantee my partners are willing to put on condoms. I made the effort to protect the sanctity of life. I honestly expect the same from those who are so eager to blast abortions.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">If life is sacred, then sex is sacred because that's how you get them babies. If we don't want abortions, we should switch our behavior, especially the sperm donors, to ensure no random viable zygote fetuses etc are born. Everything viable has to be accounted for, has to be loved, has to be given the best the parents could offer. Discussion on how to raise the viable human being, should by random chance despite all the precautions still managed to exist, should be done before the penis went into the vagina. No matter where the sperm ends up, it is still a discussion that had to be had before sex.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Come on. It's not that hard. It just dismantling the perceptions we have about manhood for millenniums. I mean, sure my ex-partner cheated on me both emotionally and physically and has a much higher number of sexual partners than he admitted including those he pays for, but it can be done. Until then, shut the f- up about someone's abortion.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-82674700427135901772022-06-22T16:46:00.001-07:002022-06-22T16:46:18.444-07:00Warna-warni Pelangi<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq1Mi0qItj1fdk43YitsytgmaEDI_wtMTfJLD8Ej_44_jiKm3kGDvScPRZuL-zojFgCVAN3wcBYx2CzcvSUj4RV9qJ_JbmGUZOKN75umxF4JHPCl0xyFy7orhS-9OpC1fOxmNbzhCoO6H5bfkHEsZV8-Lxm1EPPrTyQc81JDw_8SMzSIRyv2MqiC3Qgg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq1Mi0qItj1fdk43YitsytgmaEDI_wtMTfJLD8Ej_44_jiKm3kGDvScPRZuL-zojFgCVAN3wcBYx2CzcvSUj4RV9qJ_JbmGUZOKN75umxF4JHPCl0xyFy7orhS-9OpC1fOxmNbzhCoO6H5bfkHEsZV8-Lxm1EPPrTyQc81JDw_8SMzSIRyv2MqiC3Qgg=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7112214929561978834" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdbcd3fb6b-e4e8-463a-ba79-dec684304d68" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-bcd3fb6b-e4e8-463a-ba79-dec684304d68" src="cid:bcd3fb6b-e4e8-463a-ba79-dec684304d68" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">Bolak-balik saya melihat orang lebih fokus soal anak Elon Musk yang transisi jenis kelamin daripada fakta bahwa dia sebegitu enegnya dengan bapaknya ia memutuskan hubungan. Seorang Elon Musk gitu lho, yang konon Tony Stark versi KW. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Dari dulu saya nggak ngerti ya. Bukan urusan saya siapa doyan sama siapa, kecuali kalau doyannya sama pasangan saya. Tinggal di LA membuat saya tambah yakin. Baik sesama jenis maupun lawan jenis, saya tetap sirik melihat orang berpasangan saat saya jomblo.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Seperti agama, sebenarnya sulit tahu apakah seseorang LGBTQ atau bukan karena tidak terlihat kecuali dia memperlihatkan. Nggak semua orang yang konon 'melambai' itu gay, atau yang terlihat anak sholehah ternyata lesbian. Kemajuan medis pun sudah sangat pesat sehingga transgender bisa transisi tanpa jejak.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Tapi entah kenapa ini diperjuangkan sekali bagi banyak orang. Gini gini, diri sendiri sudah beres belom sih? Sudah menolong dan mengasihi orang sebagaimana Tuhan menolong dan mengasihi? Atau merasa ini cara membuktikan kesetiaan pada Tuhan? Memang Tuhan nggak bisa ngurus ini sendiri?</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Orang-orang LGBTQ nggak bangkit dan tetanda akhir dunia. Mereka lebih terlihat sekarang karena sebagai manusia kita belajar untuk lebih mengerti. Perasaan dan preferensi nggak bisa diubah. Sekarang saja pria di Indonesia dominan masih butuh yang putih mungil. Bule masih bikin deg deg serr.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Soal akhir dunia? Perubahan iklim. Bom bunuh diri. Perang. Main hakim sendiri. Inflasi global. Ketiadaan tempat tinggal. Perbudakan buruh. Kelaparan global. Mau saya teruskan? Semua ini bisa diatasi tanpa berurusan dengan jenis kelamin dan preferensi seksual orang lho.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Saya merasakan 'asiknya' jadi minoritas akan sesuatu yang mana tidak bisa saya ubah (Hindu, kulit gelap, non Jawa). Saya tidak menginginkan orang lain merasakan ini. Tapi kalaupun saya bukan minoritas, sewajarnya saya akan ikut merasa terluka akan perlakuan buruk terhadap sesama manusia. Saat melihat orang digampar, kita ikut sakit kan?Bukannya kita tanya agama etc baru kita memutuskan merasa nyes atau tidak. Sudah segampang itu. Titik.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-77868736549898840572022-05-25T11:02:00.001-07:002022-05-25T11:02:43.570-07:00Field of Dreams<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgm_bs_1vR_BxAFBTeAqLEUcWgmgrqEiYCNZkVC2aWBY5GNFikvdu134mDgG88JxmMcIVk1u1rf5IwLkL9icQs63Vsjj_ej1-ClOdrMlTa3KsyT4riy1AJBk9PSEknhs33qNYTeL7lmQgT24K_2KTmH44ejCB37QI-1l7UczIgh15KLMtjfaCau-DzrYA"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgm_bs_1vR_BxAFBTeAqLEUcWgmgrqEiYCNZkVC2aWBY5GNFikvdu134mDgG88JxmMcIVk1u1rf5IwLkL9icQs63Vsjj_ej1-ClOdrMlTa3KsyT4riy1AJBk9PSEknhs33qNYTeL7lmQgT24K_2KTmH44ejCB37QI-1l7UczIgh15KLMtjfaCau-DzrYA=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7101736006168259378" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdea660d3f-6e80-44c4-9160-ebb11bdf0fb2" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-ea660d3f-6e80-44c4-9160-ebb11bdf0fb2" src="cid:ea660d3f-6e80-44c4-9160-ebb11bdf0fb2" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">And here I am walking you to the field of dreams</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">One by one in a singular line</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Your little feet make barely any noise</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Above the rustling of your white gowns</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Some of you looked at me with concerns</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Some with confusion</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Some held on to my dress tightly</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Some need to be carried</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Yet some are full of laughter</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Some are looking forward to the warm light</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">"Will it be better?" One of you asks</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">"Will we see our mom and dad? Our puppies and cats and our goldfish?"</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Some burst into tears because they know what is the place </div><div id="ymail_android_signature">And what it meant to be there</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Someone asked me once, "If God was real why bone cancer in children?"</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I don't know the answer to that question</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Nor why they are there with me in the field of dreams</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I do know I stay there until they are calm</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Promising to deliver notes and love and kisses to the one they left behind</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Holding each one until I feel they are ready</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Watching them as they roam and explore the field of dreams</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Only then do I turned around</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My tears falling and filling the river Styx</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My grief and anguish crumbles and humbles me</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">They are safe now, but not others</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Those who suffer and life in fear</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Those who forever maimed with trauma</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Those who are forgotten and set aside</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Those who are victims because we fail them then and we fail them still.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My work is not done.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">~ in the memory of Robb Elementary. Rest in peace, little ones. ~</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-2973394207088457932022-05-20T11:52:00.001-07:002022-05-20T11:52:15.772-07:00Magic The Gathering "Chef's Surprise"<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIQotQv5FPX57KU4GwF70NxclyObPvXHYG1PbqCp_OmzXKfOJWNu0nqUQj-ihElrCjEm8CeIsxvCu9kTzFjDcquJHl_pZYGv8qqrF_F0N1pvdesaSX9G6gkaRnRiGwWKXdZFHnfwhF3fU--MX7YEhvNioAJdiI0BhpxmRQNgVzo6PQpz4qGuV_napHJQ"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIQotQv5FPX57KU4GwF70NxclyObPvXHYG1PbqCp_OmzXKfOJWNu0nqUQj-ihElrCjEm8CeIsxvCu9kTzFjDcquJHl_pZYGv8qqrF_F0N1pvdesaSX9G6gkaRnRiGwWKXdZFHnfwhF3fU--MX7YEhvNioAJdiI0BhpxmRQNgVzo6PQpz4qGuV_napHJQ=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7099893339905284530" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId3cf51a46-ef84-43ef-ba2d-59c8dbf07947" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-3cf51a46-ef84-43ef-ba2d-59c8dbf07947" src="cid:3cf51a46-ef84-43ef-ba2d-59c8dbf07947" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">I found this when looking for MTG recipes, which to my dismay there are barely any.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The original recipes and methods is as follow, but I beg you to not use the seasoning in the recipe. When followed to a T, the flavor and texture are a disaster.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653071630850" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.kotaku.com.au/2021/06/chefs-surprise-magic-the-gathering-cookbook-recipe/amp/">https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.kotaku.com.au/2021/06/chefs-surprise-magic-the-gathering-cookbook-recipe/amp/</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Lips:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">instead prep and season the chicken thighs with salt pepper and paprika, before giving it a quick sear. Chicken thighs is crucial since it will give the lips-like appearance and because it can withstand the extended cooking time. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Flesh:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I use meatloaf mix and meatloaf recipe, using GF ketchup and GF bread crumbs.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653071891325" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://wildforkfoods.com/products/meatball-meatloaf-mix-of-ground-beef-pork-veal?variant=9385175318564">https://wildforkfoods.com/products/meatball-meatloaf-mix-of-ground-beef-pork-veal?variant=9385175318564</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653071914155" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://natashaskitchen.com/meatloaf-recipe/">https://natashaskitchen.com/meatloaf-recipe/</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Teeth:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Anything that can withstand long cooking time like daikon or apple is good to go. The point is to create a dent that you can fill with new sets of teeth. I ended up not substituting them with fresh teeth because I am out of time. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Pincher:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Get cheap crab from Asian store. You just need 1, maybe 2 legs. I found a box of frozen crab for $8.99 at a Korean supermarket and was happy with it. No need to invest in expensive crab legs unless you will eat the rest, plus you don't want the pincher size to be disproportionate with your roasted beast. Cook the leg(s) and attached separately.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Decor:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">- Rockit/mini snack apples</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">- seedless grapes</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">- lettuce</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Cooking pro tip:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">When shaping, put enough meat mix to the thighs to keep them attached to the main 'loaf'. Tie the whole thing with twine if needed. Toothpick/skewer does not work.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I baked it in a foil-lined rectangular pyrex. Loosely wrapped foil will help maintaining the shape. I drained the juice twice: once when I basted it with sauce and once after cooking. The foil makes it easy to slide to the serving station.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Good luck!</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-61298759869103302532022-05-20T11:28:00.001-07:002022-05-20T11:28:24.796-07:00Copycat Endorian Tip Yip + Tattoine Sunset<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidL_pcs2u6LvqFLhrbP9uu5SMBNNMe4Dzj6s_58c9kVpfaPkCnwl-SEMqawEDzloA1zGRsOA05f_0EVuWOtbvpAjjAs6xvyHLdoMOfNiGaQ8YEwfwWEQDHKaVLdMxjLuNZ1Ght91pkgZRyYe-FqHXFV-dPu_zc1FdmuJu4YGobSPlBpKZqLaLoudrR6w"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidL_pcs2u6LvqFLhrbP9uu5SMBNNMe4Dzj6s_58c9kVpfaPkCnwl-SEMqawEDzloA1zGRsOA05f_0EVuWOtbvpAjjAs6xvyHLdoMOfNiGaQ8YEwfwWEQDHKaVLdMxjLuNZ1Ght91pkgZRyYe-FqHXFV-dPu_zc1FdmuJu4YGobSPlBpKZqLaLoudrR6w=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7099887195478473122" /></a></p>Here's another one that I prepare for the party, along with Tattoine Sunset. This dish can be made GF and vegan.<div><br></div><div><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdbf027abd-9d8c-44de-95b2-0fa04009bdeb" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-bf027abd-9d8c-44de-95b2-0fa04009bdeb" src="cid:bf027abd-9d8c-44de-95b2-0fa04009bdeb" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><div><br></div>Score: 7/10</div><div>The buttermilk chicken is good. The mashed potatoes are good. The hassle is meh. Compared to Ronto Wrap this is definitely more hands-on. Unlike the wrap that can be made and left alone in the oven, you have to babysit the fried chicken and the mashed potatoes. It's a well-worth labor of love if you are so inclined.</div><div><br></div><div>Buttermilk Chicken:</div><div>Cut chicken breast into 4-5 equal chunks per breast, marinade with buttermilk and your chosen spices. I took out the chicken the next day, shake off the marinade from the chicken as much as I can, and just dump some Mochiko flour to achieve the crispy outer layer while keeping them GF. </div><div><br></div><div>Make sure your chicken is cooked thoroughly. If you are unsure, cut a thick piece open. If you still have doubt, pop them in the oven (350 F) and stick an instant read thermometer until the thickest piece read 160 F.</div><div><br></div><div>Mashed potatoes:</div><div>I am using potatoes mixed with parsnips for the chokeroot, instead of full parsnips like in the cookbook. Tbh you can get away with just potatoes since the parsnip doesn't really add to the taste. 1 batch can easily feed 6+ people if this is not the only entree. </div><div><br></div><div>To make it vegan, use soymilk to braise the root vegetables and add cashew cream after. Add Nutritional Yeast for the cheese substitute.</div><div><br></div><div>Gurreck Gravy:</div><div>I use the same exact recipe as the cookbook. My recommendation is make just 1 batch, then add if you want more. It makes A LOT. It will be drizzled like olive oil so you don't use a lot of it. Sub the chicken stock with Vegetable soup base to make it vegan. Here's a GF Vegan soup base that I recommend:</div><div><a id="linkextractor__1653070567081" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://www.fodyfoods.com/products/low-fodmap-vegetable-soup-base?variant=29900287433">https://www.fodyfoods.com/products/low-fodmap-vegetable-soup-base?variant=29900287433</a></div><div><br></div><div>Tattoine Sunset:</div><div>I am using this recipe but the proportion is changed based on a reviewers note. You can play around as needed:</div><div><a id="linkextractor__1653070675499" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://www.diznify.com/tatooine-sunset-copycat-recipe/" class="lEnhancr_1653070678630">https://www.diznify.com/tatooine-sunset-copycat-recipe/</a></div><div><br></div><div>The adjusted proportion:</div><div>8 oz unsweetened black tea</div><div>2 oz lemonade</div><div>0.5 oz Monin rock melon syrup</div><div>0.5 oz Monin blueberry syrup</div><div><br></div><div>To make a whole bunch of it:</div><div>I use 1 gallon pitcher to make a total of 11 portion (about 12oz each). Then I dump:</div><div>- 89 oz (1 jug) of Gold Peak unsweetened black tea</div><div>- 2.75 cups of Simply Lemonade</div><div>- 2/3 cups of rock melon syrup</div><div>- 2/3 cups of blueberry syrup</div><div>Stir with a long ladle, adjust taste as needed, and keep in the refrigerator. </div><div><br></div><div>Enjoy!</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-6606445370921713222022-05-20T10:56:00.001-07:002022-05-20T10:56:14.565-07:00Copycat Ronto Wrap<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBNtS4ymFcy7Ov-7I91W73vjvOBWnoiuwUOgqGc8juqJMBZVEC_FO_3ZKyWGJCpZQd9kreYoXgWmhABD_BytSyQq9E32DLpsAn-_TEFhVud96HbCyFNUQcykhghx8YRVkcjQAXYGPQtpAQKJzzpNgWQ0IsEm-B7qbtGZf4z6nCqXsoW7ML20M4zr_QQQ"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBNtS4ymFcy7Ov-7I91W73vjvOBWnoiuwUOgqGc8juqJMBZVEC_FO_3ZKyWGJCpZQd9kreYoXgWmhABD_BytSyQq9E32DLpsAn-_TEFhVud96HbCyFNUQcykhghx8YRVkcjQAXYGPQtpAQKJzzpNgWQ0IsEm-B7qbtGZf4z6nCqXsoW7ML20M4zr_QQQ=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7099878905554798946" /></a></p><div>On my previous post, I made some Star Wars-inspired dishes which are copycats of what you can get in Disneyland's Galaxy's Edge. Here's the breakdown on how to recreate the Ronto Wrap for your own party. </div><div><br></div><div>Everything can be made Gluten Free and Vegan.</div><br><div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId03ad1b9e-9c67-4530-9441-4694e3f5cfee" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-03ad1b9e-9c67-4530-9441-4694e3f5cfee" src="cid:03ad1b9e-9c67-4530-9441-4694e3f5cfee" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br>Verdict: 9/10</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">It's an easy meal to recreate and the components can be eaten separately as well.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Basic recipe:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653068602934" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://wildernessprincess.net/2021/06/27/the-real-ronto-wrap-recipe-is-out-of-this-world/">https://wildernessprincess.net/2021/06/27/the-real-ronto-wrap-recipe-is-out-of-this-world/</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">GF Sambal Oelek recipe:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653068605456" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://omnivorescookbook.com/recipes/sichuan-all-purpose-chili-garlic-sauce/" class="lEnhancr_1653068606341">https://omnivorescookbook.com/recipes/sichuan-all-purpose-chili-garlic-sauce/</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">GF Sausage:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653068647202" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://wildforkfoods.com/products/spanish-style-chistorra?variant=9557504458788">https://wildforkfoods.com/products/spanish-style-chistorra?variant=9557504458788</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Vegan sausage:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Impossible burger (to keep it GF) using the below seasoning mix and shaped like hot dogs. Pan fried or grill or oven baked accordingly. I use (less amount of) Chipotle chili powder to substitute Ancho.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653068588291" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://www.isabeleats.com/chorizo-recipe/#wprm-recipe-container-18677">https://www.isabeleats.com/chorizo-recipe/#wprm-recipe-container-18677</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Pork Roast:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Ignore the gravy. Make sure you use meat thermometer.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653068916456" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1019254-pork-roast-with-roasted-jalapeno-gravy" class="lEnhancr_1653068917762">https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1019254-pork-roast-with-roasted-jalapeno-gravy</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><a id="linkextractor__1653069210573" data-yahoo-extracted-link="true" href="https://wildforkfoods.com/products/boneless-pork-new-york-roast?variant=9195440144420" class="lEnhancr_1653069212044">https://wildforkfoods.com/products/boneless-pork-new-york-roast?variant=9195440144420</a></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Pro Tip:</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This is the amount I use for 15 people as one of the two entrees. We have so much leftover still, so judge accordingly.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">- Slaw: I use 1 regular bag of coleslaw and 1/2 regular bag of broccoli slaw and just eyeball the flavoring.<br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">- Roast: I use NY roast that makes it sliceable. 4lbs roast is big enough for everyone and more.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">- Peppercorns sauce: 2 batches is good enough for everyone. Use Best Foods (or Hellmann's if you are in the East Coast) vegan spread for vegan version.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Have fun!!</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-35882862041329912942022-05-20T10:31:00.001-07:002022-05-20T10:31:59.629-07:00Star Wars x MTG x Florida<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghfLwuWxhX7ejlnjzVi1JL-fn8GGpoNK10h-w2Kpbfc_nG3rpvrsnCTThc9Z9YafItP5Mvov0HuDeufJpjbN3WuVK4AFtZcoz1pje7mZKNUAO2jxatax242uBj7bALSS-1fL6VwzH4x8NGk86V3fd9wtdE8BA-GzJoulio_blukzdF4X9eGsZxtXh_mw"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghfLwuWxhX7ejlnjzVi1JL-fn8GGpoNK10h-w2Kpbfc_nG3rpvrsnCTThc9Z9YafItP5Mvov0HuDeufJpjbN3WuVK4AFtZcoz1pje7mZKNUAO2jxatax242uBj7bALSS-1fL6VwzH4x8NGk86V3fd9wtdE8BA-GzJoulio_blukzdF4X9eGsZxtXh_mw=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7099872656698284338" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentIdb1144705-c555-4e1f-bf10-b5c67cecced2" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-b1144705-c555-4e1f-bf10-b5c67cecced2" src="cid:b1144705-c555-4e1f-bf10-b5c67cecced2" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">My boyfriend wanted to have a small gathering for his birthday. Nothing special. We picked two meals from Star Wars cook book: Endorian Tip-Yip and Ronto Wrap. Those are the meals we always get when we go to Galaxy's Edge.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Did I say he said nothing special? Of course I get extra.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 set of Endorian Tip-Yip (Buttermilk chicken with mashed potatoes and herb/olive oil dressing)</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 set of Vegan Endorian Tip Yip </div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 set of Ronto Wrap (pita with sliced roast pork, sausage, spicy slaw, and mayo peppercorn sauce)</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 set of Vegan Ronto Wrap</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">2 pitchers of Tattoine Sunset </div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 Key Lime Pie (non gluten free)</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 GF key lime pie</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 vegan key lime pie</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">1 MTG Roasted Beast (meatloaf with chicken thighs)</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Homemade salsa</div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Mini corndogs </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">In total I made 19 different things including the condiments. 22 if we calculate the spam musubi+tofu musubi I made for our lunch and the dutch baby I made for our breakfast the day of. All the party dishes, in exception to 1 pie, is gluten free.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I was in the kitchen from 10 am to 2.30 am with mini breaks in between, and pretty much from 7 to 1 the next day. My feet hurt so much from standing. But the faces I saw when I dramatically (of course) unveiled the meal was so worth it. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">His face alone made it all worth it. The feet massages I got later that night made it all worth it. How people brought home the leftovers because they really liked it made it all worth it. The way everyone offered to help clean up and how I got sternly told to sit down and not do anything made it all worth it.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I know I am bragging right now. I know I am flexing hard. I also know I needed this win. I need to know the extent I can go when receiving the right support and encouragement. It apparently really is "to infinity and beyond". </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">As a famous captain once said: "I can do this all day". I can and I will. Down to the meticulous planning weeks ahead. Down to hunting servingwares and designing little name stands. Down to researching recipes in the corner of the internet. Down to battle plans including staggering deliveries and playing Tetris with space in the refrigerator, the dishwasher, and the counter space.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Because it's worth it. Their happiness and appreciation made it worth it. In return, it gives me pride and joy to know just how far I can go. And damn did I go all the way.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Thank you for trusting me, love. Thank you for letting me use the blender until 11+ at night even though you are dead tired. Thank you for understanding that I needed this and giving me a chance to prove myself. Thank you for believing in me. It has been a joy.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3386750012151461257.post-16840557812635450882022-04-12T18:08:00.001-07:002022-04-12T18:08:35.117-07:00Punching Bag<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhD26GtwgEXr55WprJNkpA2XT0lmVdIxGQ6PT2kzWA1ZFAUPlLOjZHREqmqyT09KKpcAV-tYUTdp2ajwFzXML0J1oi3wC0ZRFK9LsLz-uSmLDBVqO068PHoCf4oHDkM6TIcjG7w1cbP9WOEhtiSeg7mhn_wVikUFSmQNH29Qr29OFZd0VuUa_oPOBZf_g"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhD26GtwgEXr55WprJNkpA2XT0lmVdIxGQ6PT2kzWA1ZFAUPlLOjZHREqmqyT09KKpcAV-tYUTdp2ajwFzXML0J1oi3wC0ZRFK9LsLz-uSmLDBVqO068PHoCf4oHDkM6TIcjG7w1cbP9WOEhtiSeg7mhn_wVikUFSmQNH29Qr29OFZd0VuUa_oPOBZf_g=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7085889087511586978" /></a></p><div class="yahoo-compose-assist-image-card ymail-android-inline-img-container ymail-card" contenteditable="false"><img id="ymail_attachmentId3fdb3cfb-8b05-4784-884b-d3f0f47a63c2" class="inline-image-global inlined-image-cid-3fdb3cfb-8b05-4784-884b-d3f0f47a63c2" src="cid:3fdb3cfb-8b05-4784-884b-d3f0f47a63c2" style="width:100%;max-width:800px;"><br></div><br><div id="ymail_android_signature">The biggest lesson I had in 2021 was that I am allowed to say no. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Sorry, let me rephrase it. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">The biggest lesson I had in 2021 was that my feelings and opinions matter, and what other people feel about that is a "them" problem. I don't need anyone's permission to act or feel a certain way.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">This take is obviously problematic. This is, arguably, exactly how douchebags act. Do what you want regardless of the consequences, because we are entitled to it thanks to our traumas and experiences. </div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Except that we're not.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I realized now I am a people pleaser. I will go above and beyond to make sure people (I love) are comfortable. I took their anger and bad mood and neglect with "Oh that's just who they are." "They can't help being miserable, and I am naturally a happier and stronger person." "They got more on their plate than I do."</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am very, very lucky. My job is nice and sorta kinda pays the bill. I am debt-free. My coworkers are awesome. I am friendly, attractive, fun. I don't have kids. I have almost zero responsibility. My mental baggage is big but my balls and stubbornness are bigger. I can take the hit.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">But I shouldn't.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">Whether intentionally or not, hurt people hurt others. It's graceful to be understanding, to patiently hold someone's hand and their crushing grip as they struggle to breathe. It's kind to let people cry on our shoulders. Yet it's horrible to take advantage of someone's mercy under the guise of "They can take it" or "They have it better".</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I didn't ask to be who I am, to be (mostly) unproblematic. It's not fair to expect me to always understand and carry someone's burden, no matter how strong I seemed to be. Even a broken, traumatized stray dog can and should be taught to not be reactive; to understand some people are trying to help and love them. It wasn't on me to make others' lives better.</div><div id="ymail_android_signature"><br></div><div id="ymail_android_signature">I am allowing myself to say no to this. I am allowing myself to set boundaries. I am giving myself the respect I deserve, the care and love I am worthy of. It's a hard and painful lesson, but one I am grateful for. Thank you, 2021.</div>Ary Yogeswaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07192026124236094281noreply@blogger.com0