Gimme gimme gimme

I'm not sure why these contraptions are called "UFO Catchers" but they could named worse so let's just shrug and move on. I blew 500 yen on trying to grab one of those bears before giving up. David gave it whirl and I was ready to kick him in the shins if he actually got one. Luckily his shins survived another day.

These machines are tricky bastards as the bears are placed precariously over the exit slot's edge, as though just a nudge will have it teeter into my hands. No. Not the case, as my lost 500 yen will tell you so.

In many areas of Tokyo and Kyoto, there are arcades devoted to UFO Catcher machines and some people are ridiculously good at it (and must have a lot of times on their hands.) I saw one man with a shopping bag brimming with won goods. The man also looked to be in his mid-30s. But that's a topic for another day.

Dead leaves on the dirty ground

In Kyoto, we caught the changing of the leaves. In parks and shrine areas, it looked as though someone took a giant paintbrush and made sweeping arcs against the green trees so that smears of red and orange stained the leaves. It was a pretty sight, very contrasting.

Walking through the city of Kyoto is a dichotomy of old meets new. I can be strolling down a boulevard where stores like Lacoste or Starbucks line the streets to find a geisha in complete uniform and makeup. I was pretty perplexed and wished I were shameless enough to whip out my camera to snap a picture of her. Instead, I kept walking to the world's best gyoza shop in the world. I have no idea what it's called but that just means if you want to try the place out, you'll need to buy me a plane ticket to show you where it is. My written directions will be useless.

Kyoto reminded me of Los Angeles. I'll be the first to admit that LA is a wasteland, devoid of warmth and nature. But I know that there are pockets where such beauty exists. Beyond these groves of trees were houses cramped next to each other and street hawkers screeching their wares. Just like LA.

Rilakkuma

When I get married, I want a bride and groom version of Rilakkuma on my wedding cake instead of the usual human versions. I found my new obsession at Kiddyland in the hip Shibuya district of Tokyo. It's 7 floor of childhood goodness, ranging from Hello Kitty to Winnie the Pooh and friends to anime geek out merchandise.

Rilakkuma is one of the newest Sanrio characters. And let's be honest, we all had our favorites. (Mine was Kerropi!) But we all grow up and out of our childhood loves. In my case, I roamed towards bears and I sorely wished I had bought the giant three feet tall version. Even if it would have run me a few hundred bucks. Even if I would have needed to buy its own seat on the airplane. I mean, look at this plushie:

It's 59850 yens. In US dollars, that's about 650. 650 for a bear?!?!?! YES.

No underwear in the machines

I seriously tried to find used underwear in a vending machine. Alas, my search was without rewards as I could only find drinks and snacks the machines. Thankfully, Japan lived up to its Godzilla myths by including an image of one on a vending machine. Other machines had images of Tommy Lee Jones. That was a bit too "Lost in Translation" for me.

The best part about the vending machines was that as you added coins, the buttons would light up beneath whichever items you could afford. And one machine even thanked me for my purchase with its cute "Arigato gozaimasu!"

Ramen

This was the first restaurant we ate at in Tokyo. It's a ramen shop in the Ueno/Asakusa district. We walked through a few hundred alleys in search of a place to eat before we found it. Please ignore my windswept hair as it was raining that day. There was a small lobby to the restaurant where you ordered your food from a vending machine. By that I mean, the machine dispensed tickets with your order that gets handed to the waitstaff. Luckily, this one had pictures so I had an idea of what I was getting.

I wish they had such machines in the US. No more doing math to split bills or hoping you have enough money to pay for your food.

Lover Nails Heart Give Smile!

I adore Engrish for its creative as well as reckless use of the English language. Grammar rules be damned! Case in point:

I wish writing Engrish slogans were an actual career instead of someone's honest attempt at the language. Though, I bet my Japanese essays are wonderful examples of a terrible student's use of the Japanese language.

King's Cup

Sometimes, okay, a lot of the times, I bought drinks from vending machines because their bottle designs were fascinating. Or I wanted to squash rumors I've heard about said drink.

Coke was bought for the simple novelty of it's can while Pocari Sweat was purchased based on name alone. What does the latter taste like? Well, the name sure doesn't lie.

Faster than a speeding bullet

(The landscapes whizzing by me.)

Tokyo to Kyoto can be a two and a half hour trip if you took the bullet train. So we did. Or else the trip would have taken about six hours by car to cover the 300 or so miles. No thanks. The bullet trains are fast but you can't really tell when you're riding one, much like sitting in an airplane. The landscape passes by as it would at any speed and I just more or less watched it do so. But try walking to the restroom and peeing at such a speed. They had handrails in the bathroom stalls to hold onto.

On the way to Kyoto, my friends and I were either asleep or listening to our iPods for the entire trip. As we approached our destination, we tried to figure out how to get to our hotel when the three girls in front of us overheard our voices and proceeded to make small talk. They were from Atlanta, visiting, and thought we weren't Americans or English speakers for whatever reason. David said we were from California and one girl replied, "Oh, gracias."

I think I stared bug-eyed after hearing that and really wanted to reply, "California's still apart of the US, not Mexico." But I didn't want to be a bitch in a foreign country so I'm saving my snarkiness for my American friends.

Food on a stick

Food from street stalls have never let me down. That or sausages but the latter is a story for another time. In Prague, David stopped us to buy these pastries that were rolled onto hot metal cylinders for their shape and then dunked in brown sugar and cinnamon. In Vietnam, it was fishballs or dried squid on a stick. Don't judge my eating habits until you have tried either of these snacks.

But the blue ribbon goes to the marketplace in Ueno where we found fruit on a stick. A giant pineapple spear for 100 yen? Sold! Give me ten!

(Hand drawn) Word to the Wise

An advertisement in the Akasaka district. I have no idea what they're trying to sell me but whatever it is, so long as I can wear a ninja outfit while riding a panda bear with a hot looking princess behind me, I'm sold! And I'm holding a ninja star! Best part of the ad is the rooftop fight behind the princess. Sugoi!

But there were many advertisements featuring cute drawn figures or plain odd ones. Here are warnings I found throughout the city:

Train ettiquette.

The pigeon would like you to know that he "can get food by myself!" So don't patronize him with your handouts.

P is for Pagoda

One of my life goals is to see a pagoda. So:

Check. Done. Next.

This would be the first of many pagodas I saw. Did each lessen the majesty and awe of the buildings? NO. Look at them! I only wished that we could had walked through one so I can finally see how one gets to the next floor. But I didn't want Japan to deport me on the basis of breaking and entering historical sites.

Next time.

Jetlagged

David, Angelina, and I arrived in Tokyo after all the airport lines and train stops around 8 pm. After dinner, we made a very valor attempt to go to bed at 10 pm.

Six hours later, I woke up and realized, "Shit, I'm jetlagged and can't go back to sleep." My shuffling around woke up Angelina and our whispering alerted David of our conscious state. So at five am, we sat up in our beds, bleary-eyed and ponderous of our next actions.

So we high tailed it to the Sensoji shrine. At 6am. On a Saturday morning. Because we're bloody brilliant.

There were three shops opened and seven people walking around at that time. It didn't help that we made up three of those seven folks. Deserted and quiet like a zombie film, we ambled down a large (and closed) market street to the shrine. The closer we go to the shrine, the larger of a waft we got from the incense.

We came back five hours later to do souvenir shopping and that same ghosttown street turned into a regular hustle and bustle avenue. As if a shrine deity snapped his finger and Poof! People!

We look like giants

I joked around that in Japan I would tower among the Japanese female population as a 5'3" giant. I was close to doing so. But mainly in our hotel where the doorways were really short. I am not standing on my tippy toes in that picture nor am I wearing five inch heels. That's me in all my five foot three glory.

As we walked through alleys and marketplaces, I reigned over these tiny obba-chans* with their crooked backs and four feet eight statures. I only wondered, Where did they buy their clothes? At the Tiny Clothes Emporium?

*grannies

Sardines

Japanese hotel rooms are notoriously small. I had warned my traveling companions beforehand so we all braced ourselves for the worse and luckily had low standards. This was our room, just enough for a full size bed and a twin on the floor. Walk space was nonexistent as you can see to the left of the picture. Behind us was the bathroom about the size of a closet and I banged my knee on the sink while trying to get out of the shower. But the bathroom made up for it with its heated toilet. Something that I would thank the toilet gods for many times in our trip.

Tales from Nippon

December is a frigid month where I tend to spend my days under bed covers and wish that the holiday season was over. It's too much and too overwhelming. Lights, people, parking lots, and this crunch for time. No, thanks.

So because I didn't blog any tales from when I was over in Japan for my brief stint, here's an entry for each weekday of the month retelling an event.

The Tokyo Metro is amazing! And with Ang's handy dandy book, we were able to figure out transfers and final station destinations easily and quickly.

They need maps for the city tacked on every street corner though or GPS system attached to the legs of tourist because our second to last day, she and I ventured to Shibuya and got pretty lost. I didn't realize it until our fifth alley, but we were in the Love Hotel district. When I did, I couldn't stop laughing and kept peering any any couple that walked down the alley, curious if they had stayed for a short rest or a full night stay. Now I regret not taking pictures of the hotel signs that ranged from Princess Hotel to Love Romance.

Sadly, that wasn't the only red light district I ventured into during my stay in Tokyo and Kyoto. Though, in my defense, it was the only one that I walked around in unintentionally.

Deutschland!!! 2010!

Don't be fooled, I'm not actually going to Germany next year, although I would love to during June to watch the World Cup along side the German folks. Then we'll all cheer and hug each other when they win the Cup. Like they should have in 2006 against Italy. Four years later, I'm still fuming over that game. HOW??? WHY??? Mainly, how did Italy score those two goals in overtime? Within five minutes of each other? My heart sank and I felt it break into a million tiny pieces, while my mom cheered and shouted "Goal!!!!" In her defense, she shouts that every time a team scores.

FIFA had the group draw a few nights ago and I've been charting my proposed winners. The first two countries listed are the ones that will advance.

Group A: France, Mexico, South Africa, Uruguay,
Group B: Argentina, Greece, Nigeria, South Korea,
Group C: England, United States, Algeria, Slovenia
Group D: Germany, Ghana, Australia, Serbia,
Group E: Netherlands, Cameroon, Denmark, Japan
Group F: Italy, Paraguay, Slovakia, New Zealand,
Group G: Brazil, Ivory Coast, Portugal, North Korea
Group H: Spain, Chile, Switzerland, Honduras

So Cammie's prediction:
France will easily sweep Group A but the real game to watch for is SA v Mexico. It's hometown advantage for a ranked 118th team vs 15th rank team with some instability in their last few qualifying matches. I hope South Africa comes as the winning underdog in this round, or at least in the opening game.

Argentina is the favored team for Group B with Greece following up. I say Greece because I've heard good things about their defense boys. Now here's hoping that they live up to the hype.

Oh Group C, you will have an interesting match for me. Everyone in the freaking world will be the England v US as it's got a storyline fit for a telenovela. Previous teammates that have to battle it out on worldwide circuit? Holy soccer balls. Donovan, Becks, show me whatcha got!

I know that Germany will lead this group but it's a toss up for who could also qualify. Ghana's strong but we'll see what happens on June 23 when they play each other. But Australia, oh Australia, you seem like a wild card.

Netherlands will be the top qualifier but it'll have to earn that spot in its match against Denmark and Cameroon. Cameroon's my dark horse for this group as they're normally a solid team but the Dutch might say otherwise. Japan is my complete dark horse. They won't come out as qualifiers but they might shake things up for Denmark and Cameroon.

Group F is straightforward. Italy will be top qualifier and I don't care too much about the other 3 teams. So it'll be a battle between Paraguay and Slovakia. New Zealand, I have no idea how they even qualified for the World Cup.

Group G is the Group of Death this year. Blood will be shed on the field between Brazil, Ivory Coast and Portugal that I honestly don't know who will qualify. I do know North Korea shouldn't bother coming to South Africa for these matches. Just give those other countries their automatic 3 points.

Finally Group H. La Roja is the top ranked team right now so I will be very surprised if Spain doesn't qualify. Switzerland and Honduras are pretty weak teams so Chile got lucky in the group draw. What happens after this group, I can't say but I don't see them advancing any further.

So, we've done the round robin matches. Let's move onto the Round of 16, alright? Then single elimination! Just kidding. I would need to draw an actual chart but I'll say right now, if the US clears Group C, I will have a heart attack in the Round 16 as they will then play Germany. I wouldn't know who to cheer for! My home country (Donovan, Dempsey, Howard, Team USA!) or my beloved Deutschland (Ballack, Klose, , don't let me down!) Ahhhhhhh, I'm going to have a breakdown now as I figure this out.

God, and the sad thing is, the World Cup isn't happening until June. I've got 186 days till then. And I also bet you didn't know I loved football this much.

Under covers

It's starting again. That dull ache that whirls in the pit of my stomach that I can feel it fester. It's a parasite and I want it out. I want this longing to be gone because I want to close my eyes and not picture neon lights.

The post-travel high is the worst. Because the nostalgia sets in and that sense of freedom from all responsibilities. For a week, I was a tourist, a stranger, a traveler in some new-found land. And it was beautiful, the way you stumble upon the perfect night with your best friends. Those nights just happen and you wake up with acceptance that it was a chance of a lifetime. So now, I lay to waste in awful memories.

This happened last year after Europe. Each night, I saw spires. Now I see neon lights and there's an anguished grip on my heart. Or it could the nicotine withdrawal. And knowing my body and it's lack of poetic license, it is probably the latter. Oh, Tokyo, take me back.

Sad reality knows that I can go back, but what would I do there? Honestly speaking, I'd be a poor sack of bones in Japan. All the responsibilities that I've shirked at home will catch up, or just pile upon me in the new city.

Tough luck, eh?

But it's ok. The ache will pass until I'm left with a scar and it will be replaced by something, some place else. Belize, 2011. I'm looking at you, kid.

Back to the right side of the Pacific

I bought a leather bracelet while in Japan and am sure that it will make me happier any ring ever will. Now I worry what will happen to it when I shower. Please, don't break.

Japan was everything I expected it be and so much more. The heated toilet, the neon lights that flash epileptic messages, cute cartoon figures everywhere, and insane politeness. I thought my head was going to nod off by the end or I was going to rip out my ear drums so I wouldn't hear another sales clerk's welcoming.

And the fooooooood, I ate so much but my brother mentioned how much skinnier I seemed. I blame walking for 13 hours on our first full day in Tokyo. That's not including sitting for meals or rest time. I have never done so much walking where my feet are cracked and sore. That's actually a disgusting image but that's how weary my feet are.

Now to deal with my jetlag. Accidental nap in the afternoon and paying for it with wide awake eyes at 3 am. Oh well, now to catch up on emails, music news, and US news while eating green tea kitkats.

Silly Rabbit

Wedged between my Harry Potter books, His Dark Materials series, and other young independent reader novel is a copy of "Paradise Lost" by Milton. And at the bottom of the stack of children novels is "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" by Chuck Klosterman.

This is my life: trapped between wondrous curiosity and bleak realization.

Damnit.

Skeleton Girl

I spread myself way too thin that I'm slipping through the cracks. I should really pick a hobby and stick with it, but once I latch onto something, it's hard to let go: photography, guitar, music, writing. All hobbies that I wish I could expand and explore. Instead of this dabbling shit. It's annoying actually, to feel like such a novice. But that's what I am. Oh well, cheers to hard work and time-consuming wants. How they drain my wallet.

At last, it's been decided. Assuming my vacation request goes through, I'm going to Japan in November. I'm not sure how the initial plan earlier this spring has brought my feet from Cairo to Tokyo. So I wouldn't be surprised if I announce next week that I'm going to Sweden. Oh November, come soon. A week in a city where the language eludes me, where my meals will be based on me pointing to the pictures in menus, and where (hopefully) I will tower as a giant among their women. And they sell beer in vending machines. God, what a wondrous culture. Any and all travel recommendations will be greatly appreciated.

I'll be flying back to the US on the 21st of November and am thinking about catching the Friendly Fires and the xx later that night.
My shoulder angel says: Don't go. Your jetlag will bog down the show.
My shoulder devil says: Do it. You're in love with the guitarist.
I say: I'm going to mother-effing Japan!!!!!!! Wahooooooooo!

Twice as low

I'm pretty sure I would be a lot happier if I weren't so chicken shit all the time. That and if I didn't have such an addiction to Starbucks double shots. And quite possibly if I could focus all my obsessive energy from bands/guitarists into something more productive and concrete. Like life.

Ha.

But really. I'm tired of my idle hands, so useless and a waste of flesh and bones.

Rough Landing

I was about five different ways of being f'ed up this weekend that I'm still trying to wake up, even though it's Monday night. So was it a bad weekend or a good one? The jury's still out on the verdict, though I will say it was uneventful despite my current state. Let's put the blame on Starbuck Doubleshots as they're becoming a breakfast replacement. So good and so terrible for you.

I saw a bunch of my favorite/current infatuated bands play this past weekend. It reinforced my love for live music as there's nothing like your heart crumpling onto itself at the sound of the vocalist's first note and then to have your heart swell and explode when the song is reaching its climax. There's pure adoration when I see a band play live.

Sunset Junction, till we meet again next year and hopefully, I'll have more time to spin on death wheels and traverse down fifty foot slides.

I'm a music whore

Stars and Songs. Okay, here's my attempt at just posting songs I like and ranting about terrible albums that I question how many ears heard it without anyone questioning the musical merits of it. I will try very hard not to pull a Pitchfork review in my entries because I hate their inclusive style of writing, as if one has to have a wide musical knowledge to understand the name dropping and references. If only I had started that blog years ago so I could shit talk Rilo Kiley's last album and the last two Interpol albums. (Don't lie, your ears gave you a WTF moment after hearing those albums, too.) I stick to my earlier review of Our Love to Admire.

The new Interpol album, Our Love to Admire, reminded me of what disappointment felt like. After sampling the first five seconds of each song, I was convinced my friend sent me Antics instead. There was absolute conviction that I heard the intro "The Heinrich Maneuver" on a past cd and this copy was a false leak. Confusion lead to research lead to hope lead to dismay lead to disgust. This album is far from "expressive" as the band members want me to believe. Okay, I give into the addition of a few wind instruments but Paul Banks is still singing in the same note on every song. I let that pass on Antics, but now, forgiveness will not be granted.

I'm so disappointed in you, Interpol, you were supposed to offer me something new, not this sloppy third helping of cheap dark and dank sex in an alley shit. Your debut was gorgeous and reminded me of Joy Division so much that I thought Ian Curtis was alive again. Find yourself another (music) whore because I'm not putting out for you.

So for more tirades in such fashion, I'll be hobbling on that other space of the interwebs.

In other news, I find myself quoting Robert Frost these days. I feel cultured yet am perplexed in my doing so. At least I'm not quoting Shakespeare. That's loony bin time. Or awesome time. Obviously, it's still up for debate.

Rock, meet hard place

I want to start a music blog but then I get lazy and don't feel like writing the first post or trying to personalize a webpage. Even though I've written about a hundred posts in my head to justify how fun it would be to expose other people to random awesome songs. But then I don't know how many times I'll be able to preface each song with "awesome" before people question my ability to write and to use synonyms. It would be easier to compile a list of quality songs but that would be the complete lazy gal's way out. So tempting. I've got no expectations to reach Brooklyn Vegan status or have the desire to write off putting reviews like Pitchfork, but music is so incredibly fascinating.

I tried to explain it once to someone that music is amazing as it's never repeated. You have these same sets of notes and chords but rearranged to create something unique. And then I also wonder, why bother when I know only Carol would read. Hmph.

FML, but not really

I am eating a pizza sandwich, which is really just two huge slices of pizza squished together. For this very reason, I'm glad I'm skinny/have a fast metabolism/consider this my only meal of the day.

Huzzah!

PS I imagine this is how the makers of Hotpockets, the pepperoni version, came up with that product.

PPS I really have regret shoving all that food into my mouth.

West Coast travels

I'm in San Francisco and have discovered that work conferences makes a person suicidal or craves sleeping pills really bad. No wonder all those celebrities od'ed in their hotel rooms, there's absolutely nothing else to do but drink or, if you have the access, drug binges. Both of which I would gladly do at the moment if to just pass the time.

I'm Seattle bound tomorrow and looking forward to it like nothing else. Joanne will be trapped at work for some of the hours that I'm there but just hand me a map of the city and I'm good to entertain myself.

I spent this weekend at SD pride and lost the title of Gay Icon but did receive he holy title of Religious Icon. I now wonder if Brazil will erect a towering monument of me now, except I won't have my arms stretched out. I'd rather be in a Kung fu pose.

Ok. This conference has officially set me into delirium.

My laptop bit the big one Thursday night. I've lost all my pictures from 2009 and whatever music I've received over the last four months. Which was A LOT. I'm glad I backed up my harddrive in February but it still doesn't alleviate the pain.

In the meanwhile, it's back to the old pen and pad of paper.

Yes/No

Thumbs up:
Believing in the "anywhere but here" motto. Doing activities in one sitting. Marathon reading. Drunk dancing. Soft blankets. Plum eyeliner. Gay boyfriends. Paychecks. The smell of "green" and vanilla. Spontaneous acts of recklessness. Nighttime Skylines. Conor Oberst. Motorbikes. Takeoffs and landings. My dead poet lovers: Ian Curtis. Kurt Cobain. Elliott Smith. Making lists. Academia. Red nail polish. Free wifi. Giant coffee mugs. Tiptoe kisses. Making short term brilliant/long term piss poor decisions. Languages. Jewish musicians. New York City. Street vendors. Farmer markets. Arm in arm walks. Gael Garcia Bernal. Coke. Black motorcycle jackets.

Thumbs down:
Pop music. Sarah Palin. Beer breath. Long distance. Traffic. Laundry. Taxes. Short battery life. Delays. Telemarketers. Idiots. Sarah Palin, who's worth a second mention. Confederate states with people who people it's still 1863. Red eye flights. Soggy shoes. Diaper duty. Dry skin. Epilogues. Breaking concert etiquette. Chick lit.

Greenbacks, payback

Madoff, you silly fuck. You screwed my organization out of millions of dollars. There goes my pay raise. I hope you get shanked in the showers.

I'm developing a workshop/program for the LGBTQ community and last week my boss told me, "No pressure, but we have a lot of grants riding on your program. But no pressure, ok?" Insert deranged laughter here. Grants = a few thousand to hundred of thousands of dollars. So no pressure indeed.

And current travel plans? Egypt and Greece. Sweet! Knowing me, this will change in a week's time. Oh, my fickle, fickle tendencies.

P.S. I really hope someone pees on your bed, Madoff. I really do.

Do it

I am going to make a short film this summer.
But first, I will write the script for it before even trying to get that ship to sail.

I am going to be an somewhat-okay-but-still-needs-to-work-at-it amateur photographer. (I do not think I included enough hyphens in that sentence.)
But first, I will take a thousand pictures on each setting I have so I can figure out what the hell my camera is good for, then upgrade to something more expensive!

I am going to visit my friends wherever they are this year. First stop, Seattle. Next will be Chicago or Monterey. We'll see.

Those are my three goals for 2009. I don't make New Years resolutions because I suck at them. Instead, I'll try to get my ambition to work out for me because I really miss making short films and haven't done so in quite a long while. Biggest problem that's stopping me isn't writer's block, it's having a damn camera to film with. God, materialism does make the world go round.

Across the universe

It's been a shit-tastic couple of weeks but I'm already edging on the "been there, done that" part and moving on. Summer is about to start and I'm getting my plans in action. I'm trying to narrow down my choices of travel spots. If David pulls through, I think I'm going to Africa. But the prospect of stepping on a landmine while I'm in Morocco is not appeasing. I really had my heart set on Belize but it's windy weather in the October and if I'm going to Belize, I am not going to be bundle up in long sleeves and jackets. So, Barcelona and Berlin could be another option in the fall. Or Japan, Korea, Hong Kong, Brazil, etc etc etc. Odd how I don't have Italy, London, or Paris on my list of places to go. Western civilization be damned, I suppose.

I've been bitten by the travel bug so bad that it's developing into a constant itch. No matter how much I want to get it out of my system, I'm stuck with the ever wanting desire to be somewhere new, trying something new.

It's awful. I dream of airports. That's how bad it is. Le sigh.

Blue light special

Raul shouldn't have taught me how to work the ISO function, I played with it for the rest of the night while my friends danced around the living room in a drunken frenzy. Another Sunday night as usual, huh?


I'm learning how to use the shutter speed and aperture function on my camera. Shutter, I'm getting better at. Aperture still confuses me. Oh well, more experimenting to come!

Golden Slumbers

The break up was inevitable. To say that I saw it coming is nothing but wistful hindsight because when it did happened, I still stared moronically in frozen confusion. I had to go from the We mentality to the just Me mentality after years of Us. Contemplative sadness, silent regret that I should have been more careful. But five years, five years of abuse, of rock n roll tumbling, of one-sided wants that my iPod would eventually give out.

Sleep tight, Pretty Baby. You were my first iPod and now I leave you to Apple heaven. A little part of me died the day you showed me that electronic iPod with the unhappy face, like the Microsoft blue screen of death, you stilled my heart. A moment of silence please, then crank up the volume to 11 as I host an all night dance party in lieu of your wake.

Rawr!

So that pretty much sums up my weekend: birthday parties with moon bounces, bar hopping, sitting and talking to a random guy on a roof of a party my friends and I crashed, faux-Weezer show at the Knitting Factory, the demented streets of Hollywood and how I would take a piss on Jimmy Kimmel for blocking off Hollywood Blvd, Factory Record night at the Echo, eating pints of frozen yogurt with Carlitos, losing my favorite lighter (it had a daisy print!) to a gutter, cementing my fag hag status, arguing with my mom that I am not a lesbian and that Phuong and I are not running away to NYC together, crying to Bon Iver because I'm an emotional wreck, and dancing to Joy Division because I got over being an emotional wreck.

One of the busiest weekends in a while. Normally, I'd just sleep 40 hours straight. But in the end, it was also a weekend of lessons. For instance:


Which I find a whole lot better than those "Employees, wash your hands before returning to work" signs.

Mid-week Pondering

"Cammie! I need your opinion! During my emo stage yesterday, I realized that you were going to be my friend forever, so I need you to pay attention to me!"

Best words ever.

Strike that, best words ever would be: "Hi, I'm Alex Kapranos/Conor Oberst/one of the other musicians I've had a fan girl crush on since I was 16, and think you're gorgeous. Will you be my muse and come with me on a world tour?"

Those would be the best words ever. Ah, wait, more best words include: "Hi, I'm Hugo Chavez, Venezuela is yours. That was an amazing coup, by the way."

I keep telling myself to do something fun with this blog, so I won't sprawl on my bed all day long reading comics and the news. Both of which has me highly versed in obscure topics, but hardly a conversation starter. I know all the current presidents/dictators of South America. Uh, so what? Thus, I am leaning in two directions.

1. To start a music blog and share one of my favorite songs a day. That would take dedication, which I lack. My friend Carol has a daily blog, TodayontheInterwebs.blogspot.com, and she's told me how time consuming it can be, not to be mention, the dearth of new items to post.

2. Gonzo photojournalism. My life is amazing in the minute ways. With Carlos and Phuong at my side in LA and a camera in hand, I am sure there will be millions of random moments and bizarre events to capture. Plus sides include working on my photography skills, which are nil at the moment so all the more reason to play around with the functions on my point-and-shoot; hanging out with Phuong and Carlos more; and having photographic evidence of my adventures in LA. Downsides include all the above as I would have to leave my house to have said adventures, and do I really want evidence of such events?

So I can always do both but I would berate myself later for a lack of focus. I think I'll mull over these options for some more and maybe by the year 2025, I'll finally come to an answer. If not, here's to years of compulsive whining about it!

World News

The world is crazy place and South East Asia is a crackpot capital for crazy regimes. I've been moved to pieces by what human nature can do. Anyone recall the march of the monks in Tibet? Or the floods in Thailand and the government's refusal for aid? Well, the Fijians are the next in line for regimes that deserve awards for stupidity. In short, the Man has shut down all manner of relaying political news to the people. In return, the media has done the following:

The television news bulletin was canceled and the next day the Fiji Times appeared with blank columns with "This story could not be published due to government restrictions" written across them.

The rival Fiji Post tried a satirical approach, reporting on what staff had eaten for breakfast on the front page.

Oh, Dictator Voreqe Bainimarama, you silly rabbit with your silly lock downs. And what's with this swine flu business? I'm beginning to think vegans are exacting their revenge on the world by attacking commonly consumed meat. First the avian flu, now swine? What animal is left? Fish? I'd say beef, but we've got Mad Cow Disease for that. The funny thing about this new epidemic is my newly fueled enthusiasm to join the World Health Org or the CDC. So far, mild cases have been noted in all affected countries but Mexico, where's it been most fatal. I feel like I could Nancy Drew the situation and find out it was Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory with the lead pipe. Or at least pull a "Eureka!" when I discover the polluted water supply producing tainted food for the pigs. Which Colonel Mustard could have had a hand in because we all the Romans went a little crazy (and dead) from know lead pipes.

In conclusion, I had no idea that Colonel Mustard was alive during the Roman Empire until two sentences ago. Why am I not pursuing a doctorate in history? I'd be an awesome professor!

Babe, I've got you

God bless the new stalker tendencies of Facebook. I just discovered that my friend of a friend is expecting his first kid. And our mutual friend? He's going to be a Dad in a few months as well. I'm not a big fan of my current stage in life as people keep getting knocked up (outside of my workplace, that is) or getting married. A person truly enters their mid 20 when wedding invitations are followed by baby shower invitations. It's really scary. And pessimistic.

It's almost inspiration for me to settle down--HA!--but then I remember how much I don't like children, marriage, or first dates. All of which I would need to do if I want to play wifey. Sometimes, I feel left behind in this rat race: find the one, tie the knot, buy the house, have the kids, etc. I'm huffing and puffing as I try to accomplish the first leg of the race while others are strolling towards the finish line. Is that fair? No. But I never assumed it would be. And I understand that completely. Perspective. I'm a big fan of it. I'm sure my married/soon to be married friends will tell me that life is just as difficult for them and I'd agree. Different priorities, different responsibilities.

At the brittle age of 24, I've decided that I don't want to get married or have kids, which kinda knocks me off of the True Blue stage. I think if I also said I was gay, I would totally go against the grain of all things "expected." (But that's a whole different subject for another day.) Children are an obstacle to impromptu vacations and keeping odd sleeping hours. And those happen to be two things I value in life. Again with the perspective, okay? As for marriage, I channel Debbie Downer. It's a legal facade for two people as the only good thing I see from "marriage" is the tax break. Good-bye single filing, hello joint filing and bigger tax refunds. It's all so pomp and circumstance with the ceremony, reception, planning, and outfits. Ideally, I'd find the One and we'll leave it at that. The End.

5 Things I would use my kid for and/or 5 Reasons I wouldn't be a good parent:
1. Panhandling to help out their unemployed/lazy mom
2. Loaning my kid to my single, desperate friends who need help picking up girls
3. Human sacrifice, in case kittens just won't sate the Great Demon Lord
4. An organ bank for when my own organs start to break down
5. Coasters, because someone has to keep those coffee tables stain-free.

Recap

Five things I've forgotten about Coachella until I was at the festival:
1. Obviously, the heat. The overwhelming, must find shade or I will die, oh God is this what the pits of hell must feel like heat.
2. Wandering into a random tent will lead you to finding your favorite new band.
3. Everyone is SO nice. Probably because they're on a lot of drugs.
4. Looking for your car among thousands of other cars at 1am is the worst game of Marco Polo ever. Hooray for the panic button on my car remote!
5. No matter how skimpy you think you're dressed, there will always be someone with a little less clothing than you. Re: Man in the Speedo.

Four unexpected things that happened this past weekend:
1. Missing Conor and nearly all of Franz Ferdinand because it took two hours to travel 2 bloody miles and getting mad at the disastrous parking situation to the point where I was crying. Good times. Not.
2. Having a mild heatstroke, twice! Goodbye vision and hello nice damp ground.
3. Listening to Leonard Cohen's "I'm Your man" in one ear while Morrissey is singing "This Charming Man" in the other. It was a Twilight Zone for the audio senses.
4. Meeting David Hasselhoff!

Three of my favorite sets:
1. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
2. Fleet Foxes
3. Late of the Pier
4. By default, Franz Ferdinand would be on this list even though I didn't see them because I know they would have put on a good set.

Two Moments that will define Coachella 09 for me:
1. Leonard Cohen's performance of Hallelujah and the mesmerized crowd.
2. Paul McCartney tearing up at the dedication of My Love to his late wife.

One thing that will never change:
The stupid Coachella Conor Curse. It's 3 for 3 years now. So I suppose the world can survive another day as he and I won't spawn children of the apocalypse. Kudos, Fate, you've screwed me over again.

So, Coachella 2010, anyone?

The Coachella Gods are dead.

Mother of god!!!! Third year that I'm being screwed over to see Conor Oberst at Coachella. It's ridiculous to the point where I think the world is against me and Conor ever locking eyes and falling madly in love for fear that our children will usher in the Apocalypse, or at least write terrible pop songs that no person should ever be subjected to. Let's see what previous (and soon to be previous) years have forced me to choose between:

2004, Conor versus Air/Muse.
2005, Conor versus me having a ride home because he was the last act of the night.
2009, Conor versus Franz Ferdinand.

I mean, COME ON! It's Franz FREAKING Ferdinand! They're the love of my dancefloor life! The odds are constantly stacked against me each year that it doesn't make sense anymore. I'm going to sulk underneath my desk at work now.

God save the queen!

Okay, I suck at this blogging thing. Strike that, I really, really, really suck at this blogging thing because I'm no longer an angst-ridding 16 year old girl who believes the world hates me and I'm condemned to a life of misunderstandings by anyone over the age of 30, therefore I have to spend 15 minutes every day writing about the terrible and at times gasp-inducing moments of my life. Instead, I grew up to be a 24 year old girl with bad sleeping and eating habits and who has a freaking good concept of "perspective." I also grew up to be a girl with a run-on sentence problem, but that's neither here nor there. Rather, it's a "I suck at grammar forever" issue. So my consolation to myself is to keep a weekly list of things and see where things go from there. Here's this week list, and in no particular order:

My Top 4 Biblical Moments
1. When Michael fought Lucifer, which gave rise to the concept of good and evil, archangels, fallen angels, and epic tattoos.
2. Noah and his ark, which must of had some secret compartment to Narnia or how did he fit two of every dinosaur? Have you not seen a T-Rex? They're huge!
3. Adam and Eve chilling in Eden with polar bears, lions, and alligators like it was an every day occurrence, which it actually was for them.
4. Cain and Abel, the first recorded tale of sibling rivalry and source of my favorite biblical quote, "Am I my brother's keeper?"
5. The Rapture, it just sounds cool and a constant reminder of people's paranoia.

I like the Bible, which I even capitalized to show how much I like it. Only I'm a fan of it from a very non-religious stance. Broken down in base terms, I think it's a very good book with very interesting plots. Taken out of Christian theology, the bible is filled with epic stories. For instance, the destruction of a city? Parents using their children as sacrifices? Lion dens, murder, a whole lot of this "begetting" issue, and a civil war in heaven instigated by a former angel? If you were to fictionalize that last one, you would have a really keen tale of two ex-friends (Michael and Lucifer) at war with each other to keep their sides from fall apart, a ruler who stands on the edge of events and watches it unfold, and a war with sword fights and crossbows. There's probably a lot more to that but I haven't read that verse in detail.

I'm not even going to explain myself any further because that would probably lead to a lot of people getting angry at me or not willing to see things from where I stand. Hey, remember the 24 year old girl with the good sense of "perspective?" She's backing away right now and just wants all to know that she's currently reading Paradise Lost, so that list stems from 2am reading of prose.

Till the next week, now to ponder what list I'll write up then. (I'm also noting the odd factor of this list being posted on Easter Sunday.)

Down the rabbit hole

I vasovagal-ed today. That has never happened to me before, it was a weird feeling to be the one on the exam table while my co-workers hovered beside me to make sure I wasn't going to lose consciousness. Then my chest tightened and I wish I had my inhaler. Today is one of those stupid days, where all signs pointed to Rome, or in my case, the doctor's office. Screw 2009 being the year of the Ox, it's the year of health care bills. I'm about 700 down. How did that happen? That's a new laptop right there--before shipping, handling, and taxes, that is. Still, NEW computer!

Be kind, rewind

Working in a health care profession is too tempting to call in your own prescriptions for happy drugs. Although, I found out today that my friend had to fire someone from her clinic for doing such a thing. But that's because the person was stupid. You don't do orders for 40 vicodin tablets because most insurances will only pay for a 30 quantity supply fill. Well, that's your after school special from me this week: How to Manipulate the System for Drugs.

But yeah! Drugs, please! My mouth is a bit sore from the dentist. The trip wasn't all that bad, considering I'm no longer eight years old and require three medical assistants to hold me down and a bite guard to prevent me from chomping off the dentist's fingers. The diagnosis was not awe-inspiring at all. Instead, I have multiple follow up visits that will result in numbing parts of my face/mouth. Oh, and I need to get some wisdom teeth pulled. Mothereffer. I really hope I get some vicodin.

On another close but separate tangent, I would make a really bad drug addict.

So the other half of this horrible, no good, terrible week's recap involves my launch into the past on Sunday. I was catapulted about 15 good years into my past at the engagement party. Met the bride who was my BFF when I was five, because Barbies are friendship builders and she had quite a few. Met the guy after my dad reintroduced us for five seconds, then met him again after his tipsy dad re-reintroduced us. To commemorate the encounter, we had an awkward conversation and our picture taken. At the party, my family ran into the husband of my pre-kindergarten days babysitter. I was the flower girl for their wedding and spent many nights asleep at her place. So of course, we hightailed it to his house for a 15 year reunion. Seeing her teenage kids was an odd experience, especially when I told them that I knew their mom and dad before they were married.

That marks my foray into a time period I'd never think to revisit. Oh, and t-minus 15 minutes until I turn 24. Hooray???

Some time travel please

I'm not looking forward to the following week. Sunday has me at an engagement party where my parents want me polished up so they can start on my own engagement. They've got high hopes for an old world hook-up between me and a friend of the family's son. I wonder if a dowry will be included and how many horses I'm worth. Please say ten.

Thursday is a trip to the dentist, who I abhor. I have nothing against the person, just their profession. My fear of going to the dentist is so bad that I will let you push me down a flight of stairs. I will let you slug me across the face or even gently hit me with a car.

Then my birthday on Saturday. Granted, I'm going to Disneyland, but still, I hate my birthday and hate the fact I'm turning 24. 23 was such a good number, not so much a good year, but a good number. When I hit 30, I think I might cry. Strike that and reverse it, 23 was a good year. I got a job, reconciled with an old friend and made a new one, and went to Europe.

Somebody just hit me with a bat right now and let me sleep till Saturday. Just wake me up so I can strap myself on at Space Mountain.

Comatose Joy

I love my friend Carlos who drags me from one random LA event to the next and if it weren't for him, I would probably become a recluse. Thursday night as I'm driving home, he calls me to go out for a drink, unwind, and just shake off the work day stress. But hanging out with him means I don't leave until after 10 and with the rain that day, I really didn't feel like it. "Come on, there'll be some cool DJs and just stay for one drink. I RSVP'd and can bring in two people for free, you and Phuong." Ugh ugh ugh. Guilt. "Ohhhhhh-kay. I'm just staying for a bit."

Hours later and we don't leave until 2am.

I hate you Diplo.

And by that, I mean, I love you so much I want to kidnap you so you can spin for me on the drop of a hat. Diplo is a DJ god and people can write off spinning as slipping one record on after another but that just means they've never been privy to such a good set. How good? I was ready to blow the place around 1am, jacket on, bag slung over one shoulder when that sweet note of a song came and I stayed rooted and dance till lights out. Then woke up for work 3 hour later. Hate you Diplo that I would do it all over again.

Oh, bought the Coachella tickets. Desert dance party is officially on now. Countdown, please. In the meanwhile, I'm applying for a semi-new job, very convinced that Fleet Foxes is this year's Bon Iver, and speed reading at a book a night. So far, I'm 3 for 4 nights. Not too shabby.

Desert dance party

I should have gone the last three years but didn't for whatever lame reason. This year, finances be damned. Foreign trips abroad be damned. And heat exhaustion be damned. Now to work the overtime to pay for this April's bite in my wallet.

So won't you come hang out with me in the dance tents and cry along to Leonard Cohen and Conor Oberst?

Wanderlust

I want to live in the following cities for however long they hold my fancy: NYC, Tokyo, Saigon, Seoul, and Vienna. I've been to all sans for Tokyo but that can be easily remedied with the emptying of my bank account. They're all metropolis cities and I know that my life won't change even if the location will. Movies, meals, and concerts will most likely hold a reservation of one even across the globe. I'll still thread through crowds like a needle waiting to reach the fabric's end. I've got the travel bug bad that I dream of skyscrapers and walking down dusty roads cramped with houses and buildings. It's also self-satisfaction, really. Where is home and when will I find it?

I want to think that it's just more than a travel bug, that it's the universe telling me that I need to leave LA. That I am going to have major epic adventures in some foreign city and meet some of the most absolutely amazing people ever (even though I think I've met a good fair share already). But days like today where it's 82 degrees in January and girls are walking around in sun dresses and flip flop, I question the guidance of the universe. It so happens that aside from Saigon, those above listed cities are home to snowy days, which with my tiny physique and large mouth for complaints might equal to a lot of day huddled in mountain-thick blankets. Win some, lose some, my ass. And still, the Queen Mab of travel beckons me with her wayward whispers.

To the end!

RIP Red shoes, we hardly knew ye. It was only your second outing in this world but you were no match for the cold streets of San Francisco on New Year's Eve. May your alcohol-soaked soles rest in shoe heaven.