Spring awakening

"and the wildflowers that grow beside the tracks
wobble wildly on their little stems,
then gradually grow still and stand
motherless and vertical in the middle of everything."

Ground me.

With all the time that has passed, I've been doing what everyone else has: living. I've been moving forward with progression and I'm trying to be okay with all the changes in my life. I've been doing what you all have been doing: making mistakes, growing up into an "adult," and realizing that everything is just perspective. A patient brought me flowers yesterday: a dozen yellow roses. All I did for her shouldn't have amounted to such compliments: I told her that she would be okay, that shit happens, etc etc etc. But perspective, right? Maybe she found some comfort in those words.

I've been tired of these changes too and it's worse when they're happening physically as I can watch the metamorphosis. Good or bad? Into a butterfly or a creature of Kafka's imagination? I don't know.

Unsettling, full of doubt, and restless.

So put me back in to the ground and let me sleep until after spring. April showers. May flowers. June gloom. Wake me up then so I can see where the earth has transformed and let me accept everything after that happens.

Til then...

Dear B,
We're waiting for you with some excitement, some fright, some anxiety, and some preparedness. And when you come, just know that we were waiting in sheer anticipation for what you will bring to our lives. And we'll be okay, I know it, because you will be the change for us. Good or bad? It's all up to you, kiddo.
See you soon and love always,
C

O Demise!

There's something wrong with my laptop and now I can't access the internet (but I do when I'm at work, and hence this post). My lappy lap was plague by THEBLUESCREENOFDEATH. And yes, it hurt so much that it's one word to me. Oh lappy, how I miss your internet abilities.

The difference in the shades

I was one cracked out kid growing up. Most people had imaginary best friends growing up. I had an imaginary mortal enemy. Her name was Tiffany Cool and to this, I still consider her my nemesis. Wow. I guess paranoia stems from the womb, or it did so in my case.

Space Oddity?

I had a very odd dream last night that included a newspaper stating false rumors about me and a friend (supposedly we were dating?), a school that didn't allow my friend Justin to draw, my mutiny against said school, destruction of a super computer by me, magic a la Harry Potter (we all had wands!), and a class that thought I was dumb until I told them I was doing my residency. It was very odd, very complicated, and very detailed. To say the least.

Clothes make the man

I bought hospital scrubs for my job today. I feel important. But I think my sisters are tired of me running around the house shouting, "Nurse! Where is my scapel?"

For the book fiend in me

1. Hardcover or paperback, and why?
Hardcover because they seem sturdier and look pretty when stacked.

2. If I were to own a book shop I would call it...
Pages. And I would include a ridiculous amount of CDs and vinyls from all of my favorite artists as well.

3. My favorite quote from a book (mention the title) is...
Dangerous Angels by Francesca Lia Block: “We’ll see each other again. Meet to dream-rock-slink-slam it-jam in the heart of the world. Like we always do.”

4. The author (alive or deceased) I would love to have lunch with would be...
Oscar Wilde so we can be sarcastic, snippy, and witty with one another.

5. If I was going to a deserted island and could only bring one book, except the SAS survival guide, it would be...
a dictionary and none of that abridged stuff. After I'm rescued, I demand to enter a Scrabbles or Spelling Bee competition.

6. I would love someone to invent a bookish gadget that...
that would turn off the lights after you've fallen asleep from reading.

7. The smell of an old book reminds me of...
walking through the aisles in large libraries with my fingers running across the spines of books and me with the most delightful smile as I thought of all the knowledge pressed between the pages.

8. If I could be the lead character in a book (mention the title), it would be...
a cheeky Nancy Drew with a much more foul tongue or Harry Potter in the Prisoner of Azakaban. It's the only one where he actually gains a new family member instead of losing one. (Unless you count the last chapter in the last book, but that's an epilogue so I don't.)

9. The most overestimated book of all time is...
Romeo and Juliet. Okay, star-crossed lovers and feuding families aside, you've got two kids who killed themselves after knowing one another for at most two days. But props to Romeo for getting Juliet in bed after meeting once. Plus, they were 12 and 14, and so what if general life expectancy was in mid-40s? Maybe the Elizabethan age didn't believe in wooing?

10. I hate it when a book...
ends and leaves you pining for one more chapter. Though that a sign of a good book, eh? Or a terribly ill-concluded book.

"My" car is stupid

My parents sold off my Honda CRV so I've been left with my mom's Benz. Hardy har har, make the rich girl jokes, but I'm poor as fuck, people, and to be honest, I still have no idea how my dad swung that buy. Some people have assumed that my dad knows the Triad or has performed some underhanded deal. I really would not be surprised at either.

So for fifteen minutes, I sat in the car, trying to figure out where the latch, button, or key for the gas tank lid was. FIFTEEN MINUTES: of searching, careful inspection of every single button, slamming my head on the wheel, hiding from white gangsters, telling shady creepy men I had no money to spare, reading every single page in the car manual, and cursing the world for building such a complex machine. Then I called my mom with bowed head and shame pouring from my ears.

That shame turned to steam as she explained that the lid is a flip lid, a la a see-saw, where there was no key required, no button to press, no latch to hold. It's not even spring loaded. My god, this car will kill me. I know it. So on my epitaph, I would like the following words: Screw you, German Autobahns.

Gangstas

I'm beginning to see how vicious Di and I get when we play boardgames as we tackled my boyfriend off the bed and subjected him to torture of the tickling kind because he kept getting all these mother effing random questions right. And I thought I had a ridiculous penchant for knowing random shit.

I also said that I would post pictures from my Vegas trip:

The Bellagio cashing in on my culture

Hugging the love of my life

The aftermath of doublefisting Cristal and a Corona. VIP, bitches!

There weren't enough beds to go around...

Disappointed again

Coachella, I am severely disappointed by what you have to offer me this year. Jack Johnson as the Friday night headliner? You have got to kidding me, Goldenvoice. Perhaps this is all one big elaborate and very early April Fool's joke and tomorrow night they will reveal the true lineup which will include My Bloody Valentine or Muse, hell, even Radiohead will do.

I'm going to drown my sorrow in cream puffs now.

Eden, or something very similiar

3am is the perfect time to start eating pastries that you spent 20 minutes driving all over LA in search of (though you originally began the quest for mango pudding but are quite satisfied with your array of cake slices) and reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows for what could be considered the umpteenth time.

Yea, this is what I do now because I don't have a job or school. Or a life really.

Something like that

I saw Cloverfield yesterday with the Boy. We were both amused and full of questions by the end. I, for one, would still like to know what the fuck that creature was and/or where it came from. Deep blue sea? Maybe. Deep blue sky? Maybe. And what were those spider bugs the size of large dogs doing? And how in the world did that girl run around in Manhattan in three inch heels? I would have thrown them off the moment I started fleeing, then looted a store for comfortable tennis shoes (that should come with miniature cow catchers on each foot). All in all, I'd say it was a decent monster movie with destruction, humor, pretty boys saving pretty girls, and uglier than sin monsters.

Still, questions, questions.

Bad timing

Okay, that was dumb of me to start a posting marathon the day right before I leave for a trip. So whoops on my part. Where did I go? To the land of sin and sun and booze! So not my local liquor store but rather Vegas. Now for highlights of the trip as we won't even consider the low lights.

-Hanging out with Di and Ang, which is always a barrel of fun because Ang is very impressionable while Di and I are schemers.
-The music at the Revolution Lounge. The Mirage touted the place as a throwback to indie rock, dance, and hip hop. I think I knew almost every song that was played which could either mean my musical taste is getting broader or theirs is getting more eclectic.
-Winning money from slot machines! Yay!
-The surprisingly comfortable bathtub in our pent house. Seriously, if Ang was a lot more drunk, I think she would have slept in it.
-Calling Di's sister's boyfriend "Papa Tony." It didn't help that we had a rental van and the couple were sitting in the front seats as the "kids" were being rowdy in the back.

Pictures to come!

Random happy things!

With so much free time on my hands, I'm going to try to post every single day for a week just to see if I can. So to start, I will list off a couple of my favorite things in the world, in no particular order, of course.

1. The scene from Little Miss Sunshine where the entire family gets on stage to dance with Olive. I laugh to the point of tears every time I see it. Maybe it's the pelvic thrusts, their enthusiasm, her father's willingness to tackle the announcer, or the center beauty pagent judge that's smiling at Olive's performance.


2. Listening to a song so intensely in order to hear each instrument, each nuance. This is partly due to my obsession with music but I will listen to a song 20 times just to pinpoint each different instrument and there's such satisfaction when I figure out how many guitars are playing or who's singing.

3. Waterfalls for their majestic and destructive nature. Seriously, erosion much?

4. Memorizing the rap bits in songs. At the moment, I have the beginning of De La Soul's rap from the song Feel Good Inc memorized. Sabotage by the Beastie Boys is my next goal.

5. Food that looks gross or ill-described yet are ridiculously delicious. For instance: the Banh Mi, or the Vietnamese Subs. It's a baguette with pate, different types of pork cold cuts, pickled radishes and carrots, and cilantro. It may seem weird, look weird, but something that I could have for lunch every single day of my life.

The Good that Won't Come Out

I've been nursing a headache since Monday and I'm convinced at this point that it's never going away and I'm never going to get sleep at night because of it. I am in pain of the ridiculous kind that no drugs can cure me. Or at least, none of the aspirin or whatever pills I've been shoving down my throat have done the trick. If I weren't so lazy and if it also weren't for the fact that I enjoy living, I would have reached for a pencil to jab into my temples. Because that would have been much less agonizing. I complain because I don't know what else to do. And if this is a brain tumor, I hope it's the kind of tumor that gives me super powers like solving any math equation in under 10 seconds or something along the veins of psychic abilities.

Someone put me out of my misery. Or at least give me enough sleeping pills to decrease the dark grocery bag sized circles under my eyes.

Holy homelessness, Batman!

According to an LA Times article I just read, there's an estimate of 73,000 homeless individuals living in just the Los Angeles region. By the power of grayskull, that has to be a lie. That's about three times the number of kids who went to my college. It's perplexing to think that such a population could exist and it's becomes even more concrete when I imagine walking down Library Walk on a busy afternoon and thinking that every person I saw in that sea of people would only equal a fraction off those without homes. And then I wonder, where do they sleep at night? And how does Skid Row accommodate that grand of number? And how do they hold jobs, well, for the ones that actually do? I mean, what address do they use and how do they renew their passports or driver's licenses? Thanks LA Times for opening this can of worms for me and causing me to feel like a concerned citizen. Where is my apathy and indifference? Where did you go?

a coal-less xmas

This year was one of the better holiday seasons, although I did have a huge fight over something trivial with my youngest sister that involved arm tugging, a lot of yelling, and door slamming. But it wouldn't be Christmas without some tears and threats. But the good completely outweighed the bad as I sat shotgun in a madcap adventure with Di. Christmas Eve and we're off watching Juno, braving the cold and ridiculous 50 mph winds to buy cds in Hollywood (you think I jest but we had to find shelter from the weather in some doorway like vagabonds), and building gingerbread house while praying that it does not collapse onto itself.

Christmas Day was celebrated with much Asian flair as the family and friends gathered for a seafood hot pot, spring rolls, outrageous fruit flan cakes, gambling, and more food. I think our house was leaking MSG by the end of the night.

And even though the main reason for seeing The Boy yesterday was to help him move his furniture out of my apartment and all the way down three flights of stairs (why are there no elevators?!), I'm glad there was still time for ballroom dancing to Beirut, exchanging gifts, and nonsensical conversations--I still think Qualudes are word and that it's reference to a drug of some type.

So ends my year, sort of. One last throw down with the college gang in San Francisco and we bid our adieus to 2007.

Meet you at the statue in an hour?

I've forgotten how much I love Belle & Sebastian until I heard "Piazza, New York Catcher" play during the movie Juno. I was singing along before I realized it. Oh, Stuart Murdoch, how you've captured my heart in a blink. I've always love how songs will bring up certain memories. "Piazza" and "Brand New Colony" will take me back to freshman year of college and sitting in Di's car as we drive back from everywhere. And the songs that continue to make me cry no matter how long it's been since acquainted.

Christmas is in four days, I think. I'm also moving ship in about two days and I've got nothing done. I really don't want to buy gifts because I think it's dumb. If I wanted to buy you a gift, I'd do that any day of the year and you can do the same. It just irks me so much that some folks don't understand why I want to let it pass like another day. It's enough to provoke a rant from me. So keep your holidays and expectations, I'll keep my tongue.

Goodbye, San Diego, I don't think I'll miss you. You were a grand escape for four years but now it's back to the lion's den. Though I will love what this place has been: one wonderful voyage into uncharted territories of social relationships and self-criticism that the maps will be neatly tucked away until the time to reminisce comes along. So thanks, Whale's Vagina, you stay classy.

Expectations, simplicity, and ghosts.

I think it's the expectations that really kills. Is there some cosmic plan written in the stars for everyone to follow, like an unseen ten commandments that you have to abide by? That's the feeling I get now that I've graduated college. I'm "supposed to" find some ridiculously grand career. I'm "supposed to" work a nine to five job. I'm "supposed to" this and that. But why? And what for? I could be very happy working some job that pays crap and doing menial things in order to pay the bills and pay for all my newfound obsessions. I mean, what do you want me to do? Change the world? I want to, and I maybe still will. But I shouldn't because I'm "supposed to."

I think I'm moving again in less than a month. Funny thing is, I'm not even sure where I'm going. Maybe backwards because it's seems impossible to move forward at this point. I just don't have the financial means to plant myself somewhere new. So I'll wither here, in this wasteland of a city, the Enron by the Sea, as I've come to dub it. And it's here that I've realized that I have few friends and even fewer that share the same interests with me that I've become a bored skeleton. No one does the talk, or care for the walk. Worst yet is the impending fake cheer of the holidays. I abhor Christmas with malicious spite that I'm only counting down the days to Xmas because then I'll be satisfied knowing I won't have to deal with it for another 364 days. So combine my hatred for the holidays, my complete boredom with this vapid city, and my insecure thoughts on very blurred future plans, and I'm some walking fuming mess that's angry at what is and what can't be.

Nothing's ever simple, is it?

You can't just pack some of your favorite items in a bag, close your eyes, and disappear, can you? No magic words to utter. No sweet slumber to last a thousand years until the commotion brews over.

Because that would just be too easy.

I'm thinking of buying a guitar so that I'd be able to find solace in something real. This thought was prompt by a cover of Tegan and Sara's Walking with a Ghost that I'd heard a bit ago. There were no vocals. Just a drum and a guitar. And of course it would be paid for by my menial job, but playing it would make me happy, and isn't that all that matters?

The Randoms

I have no idea what it does, but I kinda want one of these mushroom hello kitties.

So I finally found a temporary job (read: office slave) and with my new source of income, I'm really tempted to just throw money down the fun toilet in the following form:

-a new jacket
-Hello Kitty t-shirts
-the shits and giggles over at threadless.com, giant robot, Ben Sherman
-comics
-a permanent seat at my favorite restaurants
-the Bossy Bear book, which is my life story in Bear and Illustration form.

Christ alive, I could really go for some Korean food right now. If only I were actually in Korea, because then there's 24 hour access. I think. Kimchi, ahoy! Someone save my wretched stomach from devouring my other organs.