Full Disclosure

I am so in love. I met Maya more than two years ago at a concert in Portland and have been absolutely head over heels ever since. I was on stage when we met no less dancing my ass off and when our eyes met it was a transformative experience the likes of which I’ve never experienced before. Maya Arulpragasm better known as, M.I.A. is the truest representation of what I think I need in a woman to be happy. She is smart, funny, sexy, and best of all has a mind of her own backed up by a smart mouth. She can be witty without being catty, and talk shit without coming across like a bitch. She is absolutely amazing. Unfortunately for me she is married and just recently had a baby so it seems she has decided to put down roots elsewhere. Meh, at least it wasn’t that asshole Diplo.

So anyway I saw her quote being passed around Twitter and the first time I read it, I don’t think I understood. So I read it again and when I was done I paused. What followed can only be described as a mix between a laugh and an awestruck gasp. Not only did she give credence to something that for so long I felt bad about thinking, but she did it as a member of the industry. It’s tantamount to Kevin Durant telling a reporter he thought Kobe was ok, but not quite as much like Jordan as he thought. Or Zlatan telling Reuters that Drogba was perhaps just a bit more impressed with himself than anyone else. I was just taken back to that night on stage, the song ending, security ushering the throng of stage hoppers back down to the floor, and me stuck staring…standing… and waving. Had she beckoned just then I have no doubt the music would have muted for me and like a zombie would I have been at her side posthaste…not.one.doubt. In the words of another great hero of mine, Pharell, once wrote a song simply saying, “I just love your brain”. Double entendre’s aside there isn’t a better way to describe my love for her. The only other person I know right now with that same mix of charisma and intellect is my very own Bodhisattva back home. Even at 3yrs old I can tell she will be far smarter than her Nino…though that isn’t much of an accomplishment. I am a clear and devout M.I.A Stan that’s no secret.

What may surprise you is that I have no idea what she is saying when she said “[Gaga] sounds more like me than I do.” I resent that statement and I have absolutely no idea why she would say that. Those bloggers who said it sounds like a case of jealousy don’t know a thing about M.I.A. She has had the opportunity to sell out and passed. Her songs blew up when the mainstream heard her song in that damn Pineapple Express commercial or in Slumdog Millionaire. There is no way she thinks Gaga is somehow privy to chances she wasn’t. What she is though, is upset at the fans for eating up the garbage Gaga often puts out. That commercial she put out under the guise of “music video” for Telephone is a perfect example of how they couldn’t be more different.

Hate week is coming back soon. I have new things to hate, and fresh content for you to enjoy so stay tuned and I will be sure to keep you updated. Now it is time for the latest installment of Your random story about my time at UCLA medical.

So I suppose that last story I mentioned was a bit dramatic, but again I will emphasize that the simple fact I am here to recount it makes it all less so. In class the other day we were discussing abortion and it reminded me of a story I heard after I got out of the hospital. After I faded into that effortless sleep I spent a day or so under sedation and at some point my heart went berserk…again. I never gave the story much thought but now after trying to imagine life or death decisions being made without my input I find myself especially emotional. It is also scary to think what it must have been like for those who were there. I never shut up…ever. I never ever stop telling people what I want them to hear and in part that can be reassuring for people. Watching people work on me yet never see me open my mouth to chastise someone for something must have been a strange experience. So I have no memory of what had gone on. May 1, 2009 – May 3, 2009 are days I won’t ever recall, it’s part of my life that someone else has but I don’t, those memories are fuckin’ collectors items as far as I’m concerned. But unlike O.J. I promise not to stick you up to get them back. The story I had in mind involved the whiteboard I mentioned. I guess that at time there was some disconnect between my conscious and my subconscious because I was asking for things like juice and bagels, and something known as the Bruin Breakfast. I think I only ever ordered the Bruin Breakfast once and that was without a breathing tube in. I’m stubborn but not that stubborn. My stomach was literally forcing my hand to write these things. I find that amazing. I find it interesting digging up these stories bit by bit. I didn’t allow myself to feel emotions back then as many people close to me surely can attest. Looking back from this safe distance and feeling scared at a memory is like seeing a Scary movie or something. It’s riveting but truly horrific all at the same time. Next time I’ll talk about my friend Olivia and her eminent retirement.

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