I am leaving Los Angeles soon, and I am glad.
Not leaving for good, of course. As of a few weeks ago, I am officially on the lease for this apartment, which is a nice place with a balcony and in a neighborhood where I would easily expect to pay about $300 per month more than I do now in rent money. My landlord is sort of a flake and I will probably never have air conditioning, but those are small(ish) offenses. The living room has soft white paper lamps in various shapes and paintings, done by a friend of mine or by my roommate. Maybe I will make something to put on the walls as well. I am comfortable here.
But, oh, this summer, and oh, Los Angeles. It has been so long, and so all the same. A hundred hours logged sitting on the bus, or more. Another hundred plus logged sitting in class, discovering that I couldn't learn with my mind turned off. A lot of missed deadlines, piling up. The same meals. That mozarella sandwich on campus that cost $6 and nearly had me vomiting on the sunny pavement. And always, everyone I know being so far apart.
I miss the insularity of the 'Center', which kept us all involved in each other's lives, even though it was also often dreary and bleak. I think I miss everything as soon as it stops happening, until the next thing comes and washes it out. This analogy is certainly applicable to my dating life, when I have one. I never know if I appear complicated or simple when I first meet 'the other'. I don't know which description of myself would be more appropriate, either. Certainly my emotions are simple; the way my mind works is not.
So, I will give up these dry hot times and go to Florida, for the rain and my family. I will definitely eat chocolate-covered dried cherries, annoy my cat, and float in the pool. I will almost certainly get a sunburn. I will not drink my parents' beer, because it is cheap and terrible, and if I start drinking at home I'll see the next sister soon following suit; what sort of example would that make me? When all three of us are home, we all revert to a dynamic that was set in place as soon as there were three of us at all. I think I get stuck at about 15; the two of them at 10 and 7 seems about right. They fight in the car and threaten to spit in each other's hair. Later, we will all climb into the same bed with the cats, say nothing for awhile, spread our bodies out at weird angles. It is always much more comforting to do this with the girls than when my mother comes in to hug me in the morning. I have never been able to feel her hold onto me without feeling that I'm suffocating. It's a neat emotional analogy, as well, but of course a very real physical reaction too.
After that, I will go to New York, and spend my days sitting in cafes in Brooklyn with my beat-up darling laptop. The nights will hopefully all be spent drinking. Sobriety and friendlessness are not doing me any favors, and I have to have some kind of summer vacation, even if it happens in September. If my dating life keeps being idiotic, maybe making eyes at drunk Brooklynites will calm me. Maybe I'll get high for the first time in a year and make fun of people one of my best friends and I both dislike, which is the best schaudenfreude-y time I can have. One day I will go back to my high school reunion, or someone else will, to find that all the people I never liked are now fat. Thanks for the genes, mom, if not the hugs -- at least I don't have obesity waiting in the wings for me. I get enough curveballs as it is.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
I don't even like skateboarding.
So why is this so fucking hot?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6uwukoIN-U&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6uwukoIN-U&NR=1
Monday, August 4, 2008
In other news...
I continue not to write, and my parents continue to both find new ways to destroy themselves and our family while knowledge of past errors slowly unearths itself. I am very lonely right now.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
안년하새요!
Oh my god, typing in Korean is so hard. Also, I bet I spelled that wrong. This language hates the shit out of me.
Anyway! So, update time, internet world. Right now, I am studying vocabulary words for my 10th vocabulary quiz in korean (roughly two per week, oy vey), after having finished about half the class (and about 1/100th of the homework). This week, on the menu are words such as "eye" and "gloves", and verbs or verb-like adjectives like "to be warm" and "to congratulate". Did you know that in this language, adjectives conjugate like verbs do, but for some reason aren't verbs and therefore seperate grammatical rules apply to them? Shoot me, please, I beg you.
Anyway! So, update time, internet world. Right now, I am studying vocabulary words for my 10th vocabulary quiz in korean (roughly two per week, oy vey), after having finished about half the class (and about 1/100th of the homework). This week, on the menu are words such as "eye" and "gloves", and verbs or verb-like adjectives like "to be warm" and "to congratulate". Did you know that in this language, adjectives conjugate like verbs do, but for some reason aren't verbs and therefore seperate grammatical rules apply to them? Shoot me, please, I beg you.
Monday, July 7, 2008
The tide's always turning.
After two and a half weeks of enjoyable society back in the ol' US of A, the universe conspired to fill my life with suck today. As if being $63 in the hole on my bank account for a week wasn't enough brutal enough. Thanks life, no really, I can't get enough of this shit.
First, I spent nearly 3 hours on the bus today, going from one side of this overly-wide city to the other. The return leg of the trip was particularly bad, as the bus was more crammed full than I have ever seen it. Almost "last train out of Shibuya" bad, and that is not an image I invoke lightly. Next to me for much of the trip was an elderly drunk man, who had waited at the same stop as I had. Before getting on the bus, he asked me what bus was coming, what city were we in, and if I knew of any rehab facilities in the area. On the bus, a sharp turn caused the giant can of Foster's hidden in his pocket to spill out on the feet of the people around him. A small amount of that beer landed on the top of my foot.
Behind me was a man who could not stop singing to himself, R&B style but without any discernable lyrics. Occasionally, he'd give the singing a break in order to proclaim on how full the bus was. A girl near him had been unlucky enough to secure his focus as well, and he asked her if she and her friends were going out to a club tonight. He would be at the club, til closing. On his neck was a tattoo that read "Scheezy".
I did not stab the man with the tattoo that read "Scheezy", but I wanted to.
The bus ride might not have been so bad if I had had a nice afternoon before it, but that was not the case. Instead I had spent 3 hours eating a friend's party food and realizing that I strongly disliked everyone at the party except the host. BDSM professionals and their boyfriends, it turns out, are just the kids from high school who shopped at hot topic and tongue-kissed backstage during drama class, plus seven or eight years. And I don't have much to add to conversations about corset colors or "what happened at the dungeon last night".
IMPORTANT NOTE: Things I never want to see, #1: Bruises on your ass, from your boyfriend spanking you the night before. Everyone I know or will ever know, please take note of this.
Once I got home, I tried to take a nap, but was kept awake by two people in a neighboring apartment. A father and son, to be exact, who were arguing and belittling each other over a video game. The son sounded like he's about 8 years old. Once, I heard the father tell the kid that he was "terrible" at the video game, because the father was winning and it was the first time he had played. Yes, that actually happened. Is that enough evidence for me to call in Child Services?
Now it is late and the day is a waste. My Korean homework is unfinished, my nails are unpainted, and I am out of lemonade. The rest of the weekend was lovely, but all that will have to wait for another day.
First, I spent nearly 3 hours on the bus today, going from one side of this overly-wide city to the other. The return leg of the trip was particularly bad, as the bus was more crammed full than I have ever seen it. Almost "last train out of Shibuya" bad, and that is not an image I invoke lightly. Next to me for much of the trip was an elderly drunk man, who had waited at the same stop as I had. Before getting on the bus, he asked me what bus was coming, what city were we in, and if I knew of any rehab facilities in the area. On the bus, a sharp turn caused the giant can of Foster's hidden in his pocket to spill out on the feet of the people around him. A small amount of that beer landed on the top of my foot.
Behind me was a man who could not stop singing to himself, R&B style but without any discernable lyrics. Occasionally, he'd give the singing a break in order to proclaim on how full the bus was. A girl near him had been unlucky enough to secure his focus as well, and he asked her if she and her friends were going out to a club tonight. He would be at the club, til closing. On his neck was a tattoo that read "Scheezy".
I did not stab the man with the tattoo that read "Scheezy", but I wanted to.
The bus ride might not have been so bad if I had had a nice afternoon before it, but that was not the case. Instead I had spent 3 hours eating a friend's party food and realizing that I strongly disliked everyone at the party except the host. BDSM professionals and their boyfriends, it turns out, are just the kids from high school who shopped at hot topic and tongue-kissed backstage during drama class, plus seven or eight years. And I don't have much to add to conversations about corset colors or "what happened at the dungeon last night".
IMPORTANT NOTE: Things I never want to see, #1: Bruises on your ass, from your boyfriend spanking you the night before. Everyone I know or will ever know, please take note of this.
Once I got home, I tried to take a nap, but was kept awake by two people in a neighboring apartment. A father and son, to be exact, who were arguing and belittling each other over a video game. The son sounded like he's about 8 years old. Once, I heard the father tell the kid that he was "terrible" at the video game, because the father was winning and it was the first time he had played. Yes, that actually happened. Is that enough evidence for me to call in Child Services?
Now it is late and the day is a waste. My Korean homework is unfinished, my nails are unpainted, and I am out of lemonade. The rest of the weekend was lovely, but all that will have to wait for another day.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Native soil.
Back. Back! I have rematriculated my American-ness, everyone. It is totally weird.
Right now, I am lying belly-first on the carpet of my new bedroom, which is furniture-less and scattered with open suitcases vomiting out my clothing and sundries. The temperature is about 80 degrees, but promises to hit at least 94 before the day is over. Yesterday, I went outside and sweated in a tank top and skirt, and fretted over possibly getting my first sunburn of the year. Luckily, my fancy new american face lotion comes with spf 15.
Leaving Japan was sad, sweaty, and painful -- the last two caused mostly by me hauling heavy-ass luggage and boxes and shit all over the city. I mailed what felt like 100 lbs of books over the ocean to my new digs, which should arrive here in about 3 more weeks. I went over my weight and luggage limit on my flight, and had to pay accordingly. I threw away bagfuls of unsorted trash in the night, and left two sacks of old clothes and sheets and a slightly moldy futon for my landlady to toss for me on the appropriate day. I spent over a week having last and second-to-last meals with almost everyone I'd ever met during my time in Japan. I gave away a bag of macadamia nuts I'd received as omiyage to my landlady's mother, the day she came to get the keys to my apartment and bid me farewell. Secret: I hate macadamia nuts.
And then I flew across the Pacific in a bright shiny airplane that boasted free wine and terrible vegetarian meal service. Truly the crappiest food I have eaten in a long time; I have no idea why people automatically assume that vegetarians hate food with seasoning, fat, or taste. Case in point: both my dinner and breakfast came with a small side salad which boasted absolutely no dressing whatsoever. In its place, a slice of lemon mocked me openly. There was not even any salt. I should write them a letter.
Also, no one in the world considers mushy rice and mushy vegetables a breakfast food. Come on, people. At least find a way to whip up some (vegan?) pancakes. So far the only palatable airline food I have had in my international travels was from United. They also boasted the most liberal free liquor policy.
But, now I live in a 'young, hip' neighborhood of Los Angeles, and my food plight has been rectified many times over. The taco stands have vegetarian options. A bulk food mart is less than two blocks from my apartment. I hear tell there is a Trader Joe's round these parts, and I plan to plunder it within the next day or two. Food, delightful food, free for the taking (after you pay for it).
Of course, all is not perfectly well, as I have to start learning my 3rd language a mere 3 days from now. I have not bought the textbooks, so I really hope the bookstore on campus is open before 8:30 am next Monday. Because that's when my class starts. My class, which goes for 4 hours a day and happens 5 days a week. I mean, I know I hate myself, but this is really taking it to extremes.
Lastly, I have a new roommate, which so far has been a good experience. She is slight and dainty and Australian. This morning we talked over coffee about our mutual dislike of Scarlett Johansson. That remains a surefire way into my good graces.
Right now, I am lying belly-first on the carpet of my new bedroom, which is furniture-less and scattered with open suitcases vomiting out my clothing and sundries. The temperature is about 80 degrees, but promises to hit at least 94 before the day is over. Yesterday, I went outside and sweated in a tank top and skirt, and fretted over possibly getting my first sunburn of the year. Luckily, my fancy new american face lotion comes with spf 15.
Leaving Japan was sad, sweaty, and painful -- the last two caused mostly by me hauling heavy-ass luggage and boxes and shit all over the city. I mailed what felt like 100 lbs of books over the ocean to my new digs, which should arrive here in about 3 more weeks. I went over my weight and luggage limit on my flight, and had to pay accordingly. I threw away bagfuls of unsorted trash in the night, and left two sacks of old clothes and sheets and a slightly moldy futon for my landlady to toss for me on the appropriate day. I spent over a week having last and second-to-last meals with almost everyone I'd ever met during my time in Japan. I gave away a bag of macadamia nuts I'd received as omiyage to my landlady's mother, the day she came to get the keys to my apartment and bid me farewell. Secret: I hate macadamia nuts.
And then I flew across the Pacific in a bright shiny airplane that boasted free wine and terrible vegetarian meal service. Truly the crappiest food I have eaten in a long time; I have no idea why people automatically assume that vegetarians hate food with seasoning, fat, or taste. Case in point: both my dinner and breakfast came with a small side salad which boasted absolutely no dressing whatsoever. In its place, a slice of lemon mocked me openly. There was not even any salt. I should write them a letter.
Also, no one in the world considers mushy rice and mushy vegetables a breakfast food. Come on, people. At least find a way to whip up some (vegan?) pancakes. So far the only palatable airline food I have had in my international travels was from United. They also boasted the most liberal free liquor policy.
But, now I live in a 'young, hip' neighborhood of Los Angeles, and my food plight has been rectified many times over. The taco stands have vegetarian options. A bulk food mart is less than two blocks from my apartment. I hear tell there is a Trader Joe's round these parts, and I plan to plunder it within the next day or two. Food, delightful food, free for the taking (after you pay for it).
Of course, all is not perfectly well, as I have to start learning my 3rd language a mere 3 days from now. I have not bought the textbooks, so I really hope the bookstore on campus is open before 8:30 am next Monday. Because that's when my class starts. My class, which goes for 4 hours a day and happens 5 days a week. I mean, I know I hate myself, but this is really taking it to extremes.
Lastly, I have a new roommate, which so far has been a good experience. She is slight and dainty and Australian. This morning we talked over coffee about our mutual dislike of Scarlett Johansson. That remains a surefire way into my good graces.
Friday, June 6, 2008
If you're down he'll pick you up, Dr, Robert.
Let's get substantive around here.
School is over. I don't really believe it, but it's true. A large group of my favorite people in Japan are returning to the States in the next few days. I myself will return to LA on the 17th, which seems like a joke or a sort of very realistic dream I haven't fully shaken yet. But no, it's the truth. I made my ticket reservation yesterday. I'll be flying Korean Air, which almost definitely means free alcohol.
After about 4 weeks of thinking about nothing else, I found an apartment and a roommate back in LA as well. My new roommate is a film editor from Australia, and the new apartment is in Los Feliz. I will be (apparently) 100s of miles away from school, but I think I can make the bus riding work for me in exchange for having such a nice place to call home. I plan on getting a bicycle immediately after I move in. Hopefully, it will have a basket on the front or back for my groceries, and will be a bright blue or green. I am also planning, for some reason, to buy long chino shorts as a summer wardrobe and to wear them with docksiders without socks. Sort of a weird late 50s New England summer, but on the wrong coast and happening to probably the wrong person. Aesthetically though, it is incredibly appealing.
In my new apartment I will have my own bathroom and not too much rent to pay. In my old apartment, which is where I am lying right now, it is a little too hot except when a strong wind comes in through the big windows. I like it to be a little cold when I am home, so I can be under the blanket and feel like I'm hibernating, but this sunshine is a portent of the sweltering Japanese summer I am escaping. At least in LA, I can afford to pay for the electricity to run the air conditioner. Here, my electricity bills ran about $90 per month when I had to run the heat, and I only ran it when I was at home in the evenings and when I slept. Japan is not made for poor me.
Graduation. It was strange. I stood in a room full of people I knew and received a diploma and people clapped. I took pictures of the people I liked, first with a digital camera, then with my Diana+. I plan to finish off the last of the second roll of film tonight, and then get it developed so I can finally see what kind of magic this camera makes. I bought bags of Jelly Bellys from the candy store in the mall next to school, and gave them to my three favorite teachers. I think they were surprised, because I don't come across as the thoughtful type.
On Wednesday, I gave my final presentation, in front of my classmates and my landlady and her mother, as well as random Japanese businesspeople who had an interest in what our school does. I was very nervous in the beginning and couldn't always read my essay particularly well, because I was directing my eyes almost straight down so I could rest the paper on the podium and use it to lean on. Later, my advisor told me it had sounded smooth at the end, and a fellow student told me my voice 'flowed like water'. This is much higher praise than I would have expected. I am glad my voice only sounded shaky to me.
I did do a little better at hiding my nervousness than a few people (one person had a beautiful presentation, but her neck and chest broke out in hives as she spoke), but I was less practiced than many others, so I feel like it was sort of a C+ performance on my part. Also, I didn't make a Powerpoint to go along with the speech, not realizing that without one I would have to stand in front of two gigantic bright blue screens. I haven't used Powerpoint since I was in high school, but perhaps I had better learn. It gives the listeners something else to look at besides me, anyway, which has to be a good thing?
At the presentation, I wore a black sweater and skirt with plum-colored tights. I need to buy some more colorful footwear before I go 'home'. It lets me dress like a girl without worrying that anyone is thinking about how pale and bruise-y my legs are.
Now, the wind is blowing a little bit stronger, so I think it might be an excellent time to take a small nap.
School is over. I don't really believe it, but it's true. A large group of my favorite people in Japan are returning to the States in the next few days. I myself will return to LA on the 17th, which seems like a joke or a sort of very realistic dream I haven't fully shaken yet. But no, it's the truth. I made my ticket reservation yesterday. I'll be flying Korean Air, which almost definitely means free alcohol.
After about 4 weeks of thinking about nothing else, I found an apartment and a roommate back in LA as well. My new roommate is a film editor from Australia, and the new apartment is in Los Feliz. I will be (apparently) 100s of miles away from school, but I think I can make the bus riding work for me in exchange for having such a nice place to call home. I plan on getting a bicycle immediately after I move in. Hopefully, it will have a basket on the front or back for my groceries, and will be a bright blue or green. I am also planning, for some reason, to buy long chino shorts as a summer wardrobe and to wear them with docksiders without socks. Sort of a weird late 50s New England summer, but on the wrong coast and happening to probably the wrong person. Aesthetically though, it is incredibly appealing.
In my new apartment I will have my own bathroom and not too much rent to pay. In my old apartment, which is where I am lying right now, it is a little too hot except when a strong wind comes in through the big windows. I like it to be a little cold when I am home, so I can be under the blanket and feel like I'm hibernating, but this sunshine is a portent of the sweltering Japanese summer I am escaping. At least in LA, I can afford to pay for the electricity to run the air conditioner. Here, my electricity bills ran about $90 per month when I had to run the heat, and I only ran it when I was at home in the evenings and when I slept. Japan is not made for poor me.
Graduation. It was strange. I stood in a room full of people I knew and received a diploma and people clapped. I took pictures of the people I liked, first with a digital camera, then with my Diana+. I plan to finish off the last of the second roll of film tonight, and then get it developed so I can finally see what kind of magic this camera makes. I bought bags of Jelly Bellys from the candy store in the mall next to school, and gave them to my three favorite teachers. I think they were surprised, because I don't come across as the thoughtful type.
On Wednesday, I gave my final presentation, in front of my classmates and my landlady and her mother, as well as random Japanese businesspeople who had an interest in what our school does. I was very nervous in the beginning and couldn't always read my essay particularly well, because I was directing my eyes almost straight down so I could rest the paper on the podium and use it to lean on. Later, my advisor told me it had sounded smooth at the end, and a fellow student told me my voice 'flowed like water'. This is much higher praise than I would have expected. I am glad my voice only sounded shaky to me.
I did do a little better at hiding my nervousness than a few people (one person had a beautiful presentation, but her neck and chest broke out in hives as she spoke), but I was less practiced than many others, so I feel like it was sort of a C+ performance on my part. Also, I didn't make a Powerpoint to go along with the speech, not realizing that without one I would have to stand in front of two gigantic bright blue screens. I haven't used Powerpoint since I was in high school, but perhaps I had better learn. It gives the listeners something else to look at besides me, anyway, which has to be a good thing?
At the presentation, I wore a black sweater and skirt with plum-colored tights. I need to buy some more colorful footwear before I go 'home'. It lets me dress like a girl without worrying that anyone is thinking about how pale and bruise-y my legs are.
Now, the wind is blowing a little bit stronger, so I think it might be an excellent time to take a small nap.
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