22+ only

yesterday i smoked and then did 3 pull ups and i don't think anything else can recreate that level of euphoria and dopamine for a while

i had so much fun yesterday i had fries And oreos And chicken over rice And i tried out cava for the first time And i went to this 7 eleven and i love going to 7 eleven ANNDDD i got on the ferry and sang as loud as i want bc the roaring engine completely drowns it and there was barely anyone on board. that shit felt spiritual and divine as fuck for real i had so much fun i just wish i didn't feel so uncomfortable at the gym later on bc i didn't finish my session and that irritates me bc i always finish even if people piss me off. im gonna have to go back to the alternative location until i figure out what about that place and people make me so uncomfortable and how to deal with it

omg i got contaacts its so nice to see out of both my eyes and not have to keep fucking putting my glasses up and vwiping them and piushing my hair out of the way

my mom says i'm connected to my culture bc i was raised in a brown neighborhood the first 8 years of my life. she is wrong. the next 8 years of my life i was raised in a neighborhood where we went to dawats, had numerous invites for eid, went to desi picnics in the summer, got my mehendi done by neighbors, and went back to my old neighborhoods every weekend for tutoring and studied bangla reading and writing with mom at home. for that 8 years of my life we still saw our cousins for the holidays and strolled around the places that raised my first 8 years. for that 8 years i spoke bangla at home, fell in love for the first time and added my favorite bangla song from when i was 10 to her playlist, for that 8 years i told anyone who would listen about bangla, about bangali food, about bangali movies, about bangali music, about bangali dance, about our practices and customs. the problem wasn't lack of immersion the problem was how much i was treated like a freak in my second neighborhood. and sure, i fought it harder than my sister. but i don't blame her. because when i left that second home it would've been so easy to let go completely once no one demanded of me to be a bengali. but it was a choice i made. actively i decided i would not forget what it means to be bengali. not for the people at school who treated me like a freak, not for the people in my shelter who liked me better when i assimilated into american whiteness, not for a job, not for social capital, not for upward mobility, not for anything. i practiced the language myself and gathered every song, movie, story i got my hands on so i would never forget. holding on is a choice and our infrastructure is not set up to make that choice easy. in fact we are actively encouraged to forget where we come from and become an american, access to western media is ample wherareas for bengali media you must dig to the most niche corners of the internet; it will not be readily available on spotify. you must know bengali elders to give you the stories and histories the internet has not yet preserved. but we do it because if not us who will? preserving it is a choice and our infrastructure does not make it easy. so i don't blame my sister, i just carry grief that she couldn't see how beautiful it is to grow into all the parts of yourself that once brought you such shame and heartache. to be the adult in the room and witness younger versions of you move through the world with brilliance and confidence because of the infrastructure your generation has built so they don't have to wait until they are grown to be prideful about their roots

this movie by this actress who was in another movie i watched. the more i look at the plot the more i realize this story is so common in nyc only it's with black and brown poor people and when it happens here it's just seen as something shameful and immature but in the movie it's this whole tale and that goes to show how anything is ok when white middle and upper class people do it only they are allowed to be human apparently

finding extra oat banana pancake/cake in the fridge is the best thing that has happened to me this morning

i still can't believe last year i was going through psychosis and had so much anxiety about lifting and now i lift 4-6 times a week and i find so much joy in it

i hate seeing those what i make for my husband for his 12 hr work day videos and it's just protein and carbs.. what happened to fiber? yall don't eat any fukcing vegetables in america and it pisses me off so bad

no it's not enough to be a liberal zionist. why the fuck would you EVER think being a sugar coated imperialist genocider colonial demon is okay???? why you bitches got such low fukcing standards? why you bitches idolize any mediocore politician and celebrity? why you bitches obsessed with people who don't even know your last name? why you bitches keep waiting around for someone to save you? why you bitches wanna make all your fallacies my fucking problem by making me exist in a society where you and your lot have the loudest voice/platform and yet do absolutely nothing sustainable or revolutionary with it? i am seething with rage today and so frustrated