morning affairs, from bed

 At twenty-six, I'm finding out, people will often tell you, sometimes settling is the only option, and sometimes, there's nothing you can do to right a wrong, and sometimes, people won't forgive you, and sometimes, you will forget that you wanted more out of this life, out of the people you adore, and you'll settle for merely what everyone's told you is possible, and not what you know is possible.


 the former years

"The future is only an indifferent void no one cares about, but the past is filled with life, and its countenance is irritating, repellent, wounding, to the point that we want to destroy or repaint it. we want to be masters of the future only for the power to change the past." -Milan Kundera

At twenty-one, I learned the reality of the everlong cliche of broken hearts, emotions heightened to anger, hate, bitterness and regret without sacrifice, without discretion: it was what it was.

At twenty-two, I learned the price of self-worth and perhaps the most difficult things in life are the truths for which we cannot control: time, cancer, the choices of others

At twenty-three, I learned the reality and repercussions of the choices we choose to make, the price of momentary desires

At twenty-four, I learned some things are never meant to be reconciled: perhaps it's not whether someone else will forgive you for your actions, but rather if you can forgive yourself.


At twenty-five, I learned there's no shortage of dreamers, but those who choose to pursue those dreams are few. And those who choose to muddle on in pursuit, even after time and trials fail, are even further between.

My existence these days can only be summed up as surreal. Loss of sanity, happiness as momentary leaps dotting the horizon.

I am from planet earth, of this I'm sure. Of only this I'm sure.

A Writer's Life

Me: "What's wrong?"

Her: "What do you mean. A lot of things are wrong."

Me: "God. Most people would say. 'What do you mean. Nothing's wrong.'"

Her: "Well I'm crazy."

where you are

“Most girls’ plan is to meet a guy, love, have a baby, but I don’t know if I have what it takes for everybody’s regular plan” - How Do You Know

At times I can be jealous, insecure, territorial, selfish. Even when I don't want more, even when I know I will be fine without this, even when I know I will be fine when this won't be the story anymore.

Have confidence, they always say. I love a man with confidence, and I can tell within the first few minutes of meeting him if he's insecure with who he is. Those guys generally don't stand a chance. I'm riddled with insecurities, and as a result, I don't generally fight for what I want when it comes to matters of the heart. If I think he's into someone else, then that's that. I don't know. Maybe I should start fighting though.

This year was riddled with mistakes, mistakes I had to make.

The spring tested a childhood crush. This guy, when I was younger, I adored. I used to mention him in my journal, subtleties, how nice he was, never really saying how I felt because he'd talk to me about some phone conversation he had with some girl he was crazy about. And then he'd write about it on his online journal, which everyone was privy to. We were young, but he was open and honest, and he was seemingly crazy about her. And I forgot all of that. So as an adult, when he said he wasn't the relationship type, even though I knew better, I forgot that he really was capable of adoration when he found the right girl.

The summer found a certain recklessness that should only be had with youth. At this age, I should know better. But I never really went through that stage when I should've, so I had a delayed growth period. Funny how, mistakes are sometimes known as growth periods.

And with autumn, I had to learn how to deal with the mistakes I was making. Mistakes that shouldn't be made at this age, but there they were.

I thought at this age, I'd figure it out. I'd figure out what I wanted in a real love, and I'd commit to a man, and I'd commit to a career, and I'd know what I was going to do with my life. I never would've thought at twenty-six, I couldn't afford to buy my parents a television, I'd still be hurting friends, coin tosses away from breaking hearts. I'm beginning to think, this is life, and I will always make mistakes, sometimes they'll be big, sometimes not so much, but I don't think I'll ever stop fucking up or stop muddling about.

Someone told me, you either pick a job or you pick a city, and I've been choosing the latter. All my life I've worked for the former, running away from this city for weeks and and months at a time. A part of me doesn't want to run away anymore, but I can't seem to make things right, here.

All I wish for in 2011 is some answers, some growing up (a job, a pay check, a 401k?, health insurance!). There were too many mistakes this year, with them lessons, but things just don't feel okay.

On the bright side: at least I'm not getting deported.

For Sale, Empty Lot

Her: "I need to get a guy bff so I don't hang w stragglers. You want the job?"
Him: "Do i have to interview? Whats the deal with relocation fees?"

Him: "Did I win the part?"
Her: "Your relocation is too difficult, but the position is still empty."
Him: "Ok. I just don't want to lose out to some chump."

Him: "Promise me."
Her: "Pinky swear."

How Did it Feel

I thought about it. How would it feel. How would I feel. In a moment, you came to your senses, and you figured it out, that I wasn't right, and you decided, the one who was right, was someone else. So I thought about it. How would it feel. How would it feel. Even though, I'm aware you are not it. How would it feel. And I knew I couldn't do this. I've always known. I don't believe this works. The whole, friends with benefits. I knew I couldn't do it more than once without getting emotionally attached. I'd be fine. More fine than you, perhaps, if it were reversed. But, I never had the emotional capacity for this kind of thing. It was difficult before. To hurt someone, to be hurt, to get over. Ruins the idea of everything.

muddling in the rabbit hole.

forever lost.

What's with the tattoo?

On my wrist, is a tattoo of an envelope with a heart on the flap. Strange, I know. Most people don't get it. Most people don't get me.

People always ask. We'll be in the middle of a bar, or a party, or eating in a restaurant, and they'll ask. And I'll shrug, and say I don't want to explain.

Anyway, I had viet coffee again. I drank it at 1 p.m., which I thought was a safe hour, but here I am, awake at 3:22 a.m. So here's what it means.

It's for my inability to be happy in any one place for too long. It's for this need I always seem to have with running away, for the sake of growing up, for the sake of sanity. It's letters home, for everyone I always find myself leaving behind, for everyone I've ever loved that I can't be near. I'm consistently leaving people behind. It's letters to everyone that can't be here, in this moment. It's for everything I could never say to my mother, for our language barrier, for our differences, our inability to understand the worlds in which we grew up in. It's for everything I could never express to my dad. It's for everything I will never say to the father, who was once married to my mother, who loved me as he knew, who I hope is happy somewhere. And it's for everything I could never say, written in a letter, to you. I was never good with words in the verbal medium.

This is why I don't explain these things when people ask. It's rather a long story.

Whatever happened to her?

another birthday

Four years ago, my mother was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. She later had a mastectomy. I remember speaking with the doctor over the phone, 120 miles away from home, on this clear early autumn day, between classes. He said it was a 50/50 chance. He didn't sound hopeful. And that was that. I remember being in the waiting room. I always hated hospitals, something about the smell, the death, the sick people. I remember the chemo treatments. That autumn, I took 18 credits, an internship 50 miles away from campus and at one point, between dealing with all of that and heart break, I couldn't eat for two weeks. The thought of food physically made me nauseous. I ended that semester with the highest GPA of my college career.

Two years ago, I packed my life into a suitcase and caught a flight to Florence, Italy. I moved in with 15 complete strangers, and it was the best thing I ever did. There were weeks where there was nothing more that I wanted, than living in the moments I was living in. You know you have it good when you don't want time to pass by any faster than they do. There was no, muddling through the week simply to get to the weekend–where in the ordinary life, living begins. Every day, I couldn't believe that was my life.

I've had my world, everything I've ever believed in, almost crumble. Where nothing mattered but praying. And I've had days, months where I've done more living than most can say in a life time.

So now, whatever the next stage of this life brings me, I know I'll be ready, I'll be okay, and things might even end up amazing.

Ah, to find a guy, to help you get over the guy, who helped you get over that guy.

It's a vicious cycle.

On two formers, and nine years later

We'd grow up, test out waters we never got around to, thinking maybe the past had it wrong, but we'd find we were right the first time.

People who still amuse you, even though you haven't spoken for months, years–those are keepers. Note: 10 years later, you're still on my list.

July 18, 2001
"haha so we do know how to get past "hey" =)"

Somewhere along this string we lost our innocence.

Last summer, I was sitting in your room, waiting for the results. I knew what I would've done, had it come to that, and after, I told myself, I was going to change my ways. And I did, for awhile, I did. And then enough time passes, and you forget the weight of your decisions, you live life in the momentary, and most of the time, you get lucky. I guess I've always been kind of lucky.

A year later, and I found myself sitting on the other side of that table. Some choices, some consequences are too heavy, too heavy to forget with time. But, times does, will, make things okay.

"So, since when do you hold your tongue?" he says.

"You think it's a good thing for two nutcases to befriend each other?"
"Yes, it's good because when I talk to you, you realize how ridiculous most of your own life is and vice verse."

"Don't worry, I have an understanding of what you are."

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

"There's so many things that have to happen for two people to meet."

i don't know what i came here for

You were all wrong for me, I knew it, we didn't fit. Two years later though, a small part of me still wishes I could've stuck around with you. Because you were seemingly crazy about me, among other things. I know it never would've been enough for me. But sometimes, I wish it had been.

We come across so many people, who turn to matter in different ways, different weights, understanding here, comfort there, but most of them, never quite fit to stay. I'm still waiting. And in the mean time, I've fallen back on this idea of living, chasing momentary desires, that perhaps will never weigh much alone, but without it, I may never learn the lessons I need to.

I haven't had a good night's sleep since spring.

what a waste of money and feelings we don't have

An old song shuffled on last night, and I dusted off the covers of lines I used to adore, and this time around, I found they resonate more than the last. It's funny how things...moments...come across your life, and sometimes, the second time around, things just fit better. Perhaps timing really is everything.

I'd be lying if I said, a part of me wasn't waiting for the years to pass, to have old faults fix themselves, so maybe, at some passing, we'll fit.

"Broke ass ballin"

We were talking today, just us girls around the dining room table. About guys and marriage. Somehow it seems to come up a lot lately, even though half of us still have never managed to keep that relationship thing.

We're Asian-American, our parents were refugees from Cambodia and Vietnam, after the war. They came here, made a life for themselves from the ground up, and have managed to provide a fairly comfortable standard of living for their children. And to their astonishment, we're now grown, pursuing dreams based on this pursuit of happiness and not necessarily on the worth of a dollar. Because they've provided us with this life, where we never really had to worry about money.

I think I'm going to take a break from the pursuit of men.  I like not being crazy.


So....friends all around.


It's another summer, the same old crowd, none of us the same, but I still got love.

baby this is bringing me down

another try in growing up and letting go

When I came over to your house a few months back, you'd asked if I'd been there before. And I knew I had before, it was familiar, but I couldn't really recall why that would've been the case. You said, it was probably a family thing. But that didn't seem right to me. So yesterday, in part boredom and in part curiosity, I vaguely recalled writing about you, way back when, but I couldn't really place when or why that would be the case, so I pulled out my old hand-written journals and started looking. Of course, since I wasn't sure what I was looking for aside from your name, I ended up taking an unintentional trip down memory lane....from 1998 to 2003. And it's completely bizarre how I forgot so many things had happened. It's completely correct how easy it is that we forget these little details, these day to day happenings, these entire summers spent hanging out. I just forgot things I didn't think I would've forgotten, but I did. Apparently, you came around when I was 16, and you stayed around that summer, and we spent the rest of that year in sporadic conversation. Honestly, I had no recollection, no recollection. I remember her 16th birthday, and I remember sitting around after everyone had left and just talking, but I never placed you there as well. A year after, when she turned 17, I wrote, after everyone left, we'd been looking through old photos from the previous year, and I'd came upon a negative–vintage, isn't it–and it was of you, Charles, Krystine and I from the same night the year before, when we were just sitting around and talking. And I had no recollection.

This trip down memory lane is completely bizarre, not so much because I catalog every moment for fear that I will forget, but the truth is, we really do forget.


I don't write every moment of my life down like I did those years. The after years haven't held time, space or candor for that. I can't be as open and honest online with the identities of others as I used to be in the tangible.


We used to know each other. I guess we used to be friends, and neither of us mentioned it in the after years. You probably forgot, I forgot.

 __________________________________________________________

Last autumn, you asked me to hang out.  It wasn't an unusual request, we'd been friends for years after all.  Though friend would be a weird word to describe us, we were always kind of off, there was always something kind of there, that we never took care of.

And then we did, and the only thing that came was the clarity that was why it had never worked.

I wrote about you a lot.  Actually, you overshadowed the former to a degree.  You might be the reason why I failed to recall the former.  But from the moment we met, to the after years, I cataloged the things you said, the things that reminded me of you, and then the drama, the disappointments, and the confusion.  I wasn't good to you.  I wasn't good for you.  And fuck, I probably didn't make much sense, since it seems, through most of it, I was never quite sure.  And then, one day I decided we should just be friends.  So I told you that, via AIM.  And then I continued to prattle on, as if it was all okay.  And maybe these moments, are ones you no longer recall, but.

I kinda sucked.  It's been a long time.  None of it matters anymore, but hey, I'm sorry.


It's funny how, all these years pass, and you think not much happens, but then so much does, so much is fit into these minute summers, those winters, falls, homecomings and celebrations.  Nights spent driving out into the middle of nowhere and hanging out in fields, on driveways, talking about nothing – and sometimes, these moments become so vague in my memory that I'm no longer sure if they were real or something I made up or dreamed.

she had a habit of running.

When someone wants to be with you, they will be with you.

When you really matter, when it really matters, it won't be a game anymore.

P.S.

Please don't forget this note.


"If you go on doing what you've always done, you'll go on getting what you've always got, which may be less than you want or deserve."

"don't let them tell you there's a right way to fall in love..."

I'd been sitting in my college radio station in the fall of 2006, when we were handed Raised by Wolves, Voxtrot's first EP. Back then I recall thinking that it was crap. And then, sometime later, after I'd donned that cap and gown, cleaned out my old apartment, and moved on, Your Biggest Fan and The Start of Something reappeared. And it was one of those things where you can't help but have it on repeat just because, and one of those times where I sat there and really listened, because we never really listen to music, most of the time.

The Start of Something shuffled on last night, and I dusted off the covers of old lines I used to adore, and this time around, I found they resonate more than the last. It's funny how, things, different things, different moments come across your life, and sometimes, the second time around, things just fit better, perhaps timing really is everything.

Then I wondered what Voxtrot was up to these days, and it turns out, they're closing shop, maybe not forever, we can never say forever, but for now.

In his farewell, lead singer, Ramesh Srivastava writes:

"Approximately eight months ago, I spoke to my friend Simon and indicated that I was ready to give up on music, or at least leave it for the indefinite future, but he reminded me that you can't dedicate yourself to another job or a degree, or some other distraction just because you've got nothing else going-if you have the feeling that you were born to do something, you've got to follow that feeling.

As he told me, "Do it because you love music. Do it with passion."

And so I did what I had to do. I swallowed my pride and got two jobs, one of which involved clearing the dishes of the filthy-and-not-so-pleasant-rich, and while this sudden change in lifestyle was not altogether ideal, I was constantly aware that I was building towards something.

For me, the most important thing in life is leaving behind something beautiful, something that finds its way into the lives of strangers, and forever alters them in a positive manner. Sometimes, being able to do this means that you have to work the shitty job and serve bread to rich idiots, but whatever, it's better than just cashing in your chips and spending the rest of your life wondering, "what if…?"

And so here I am, in the middle of another one of my quarter-life crises, except this time, I find myself questioning the entire foundation upon which I've built this career of mine, if you will. I never really knew what I wanted to do with my life, and I guess some would say, those are the most interesting people, but to be honest, it's a hell of a lot of confusing freak-outs for a bit of interesting. So, I thought, I write, that's what I do, and if I could make a living from that, then all would be good.

I never wanted to be one of those people who sat around at 50 wondering what if. So I forsaked the money and chased these dreams, or so I've always believed.

But, when you turn your sanity into your career, and therefore, into your life, because we're workaholics, what's left?

on matters of worth

Maybe, maybe I ask too many questions, maybe I'm always just demanding too much, I don't know, I've always wanted the whole damn world. I used to believe anything was possible, but as I get older, it only gets harder. Some days, I'm not sure what I believe.

I came around cause I thought, you were worth my time. And I don't believe I was wrong on that point. But maybe I expect too much out of you, and maybe that's not fair, maybe. I just have this habit of always expecting a lot out of the people I care about.

It takes about 5 minutes for me to decide if someone's worth my time, if they're my kind of people. And I'm right about 95 percent of the time, there are always exceptions. But most of the time, I'm right.

I've always been good at keeping relationships–friends. Maybe because I never had a boyfriend to distract me, maybe because I'm an only child, and my parents drive me crazy. So I've always managed to keep these relationships. I choose my friends carefully because they're my family, and I was never one for keeping acquaintances, until I got older and for other reasons it became necessary (I still believe it's bullshit.). And I never realized, how, as we get older, most people don't keep that many friends. Cause we all get busy, this life, you know.


I don't know where I was going with this. But on matters of worth. I'm impatient, at times insecure, at times crazy, and I have this habit of saying everything that comes to my mind, sometimes, I say too much, I can't really say sorry because, sorry rarely ever means much. I'm addicted to the things I fear most....so maybe you're right. Maybe I'm always running after what I can't have because, because nothing good ever came easy. And that's simply how I've always known it to be. If I cease to believe that anything is possible, well then, there'd be no point left in this life.

"you got me up against the wall. maybe we could make this work, but i just had to leave before it's getting worse. i don't know what you came here for."

Sometimes I buy cards with no one in particular in mind.

i write, i write, i write. and none of this makes any more sense.

i don't know if this is a good idea. i don't know if it even carries any weight for you. i don't know how you caught me here. i don't really know what it's all about.

Am I fine? Yes. 

Am I happy? Somedays.

But you know those moments, that go on for days, weeks, where everything's so good, you just think, something bad has to happen because this feeling can't keep going on forever.

It's been awhile.

broken contracts

It's 2 a.m., and you're here. You've broken every rule you've made for me, he said.

Actually, I think that was your rule.

But I do make these rules, that I never seem to stick to. I don't really know what the point is, maybe it's just part of this game. This game we're always playing.

Just friends, huh.

I guess so.

Somehow, this is always how events transpire. No wonder I have no idea how to date. You're twenty-five kid, make the guy take you on a proper date, that's how it's supposed to be, that's how you know it'll turn into something worth anything, that's what convention says, and then I think, fuck it, I'm twenty-five, things are how they are, and I really can't sit around and have convention work itself out. I kind of just have to do what I want, even if it fucks me over (or vice versa). Why bother? Because I think, one of these days, one of these days, it'll work out.

I could be wrong, there's always room to be wrong.

Meghan: This is how I know Felicity still likes you. You ready?

Ben Covington: Yeah. Wha... what is it?

Meghan: Sarah McLachlan.

Ben Covington: What?

Meghan: When Felicity showed up last year, head over heels for you, Sarah McLachlan was all she listened to. If "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" wasn't in the CD player, it was only so "Solace" could get a little airplay. I started calling it 'Ben music'... not to her face but behind her back. But then it went away, and I thought Sarah was gone for good. I almost started celebrating. And then you showed up again. You offered Felicity this cross-country trip of a lifetime, which means I got to memorize every lyric from "Surfacing"... all 10 songs! This year started off McLachlan-heavy, until the big break-up, and then all of Felicity's hair went away, and so did Sarah. Until you guys broke into the pool. Now maybe it was a coincidence, but guess who started to make a comeback? It was gradual, but constant, and now if you want me to, I can sing any song from "Mirrorball" which really annoys the hell out of me! So if you're ever curious about whether Felicity has the hots for you, just check her boom box.

Ben Covington: That's the dumbest theory I've ever heard.

Sean Blumberg: Well, I buy it.

Meghan: Let me put it this way, Greg knows how to work it. If she spends too much time with him, Sarah's going back on the shelf. -- IMDb Quotes: Felicity (1998 TV series)

lost things in series

 

__________________________________________________________

I have a habit of saving everything. Anyway, this day in 2009.

Matt: dude, not only can you rent them. you can rent them in order to toss them
Matt: they wear harnesses and you can physically toss midgets
Kim Ha: um
Kim Ha: why does this sound inhuman
Matt: well they get paid alot
Kim Ha: .....
Kim Ha: so do some hookers
Matt: exactly
Matt: so if they are willing to go through it, then its ok
Kim Ha: hahaha
Kim Ha: so
Kim Ha: senator fackner
Kim Ha: when you were 24 you rented a midget?
Kim Ha: hhahah
Kim Ha: best story ever
Matt: nope
Kim Ha: no if it was real
Kim Ha: please do it
Matt: ohthat would be funny
Matt: i'll rent the midgets you bring the keg
Kim Ha: NO
Kim Ha: i'm not going to bea part of the midget renting
Matt: what
Matt: it'll be my name
Matt: why are you so scared
Kim Ha: midgets don't do it for me matty
Kim Ha: now if it were a miniature midget, that's another story
Kim Ha: i had a bagel with cream cheese this morning
Kim Ha: it was yum
Matt: fuck
Matt: i want one
Matt: darn it
Kim Ha: mi dispiace

_________________________________________________________

some matters at hand

life goal #27 drive cross-country. note: will accomplish this, this summer.

#26 live abroad for a year.
#25 get an M.A. (x2)
#24 move out of my parent's house
#23 fall in love
#22 live in southern california or brooklyn
#21 travel around Asia
#20 travel around Europe
#19 live in London
#18 write a book and get it published
#17 write a screenplay
#16 help someone in some way that alters the course of the rest of their life
#15 travel to south america
#14 be homeless for a week or so
#13 drive stickshift
#12 a tattoo
#11 jump out of something
#10 get married
#9 procreate

Running away to Brooklyn.

So here we are

I thought my bi-annual quarter life crisis wasn't going to come around this year. And, it hasn't really. Cause somehow, even with life unplanned 3 months from now (and I always plan 6 months in advance.) I'm okay with where I am, and wherever the hell it takes me. My fortune cookie did say: you are heading in the right direction. And that's gotta be worth something.

But with that said, I still somehow, after a string of unexpected events, that's how they always happen, don't they? managed to deactivate my Facebook. And, if you know me, only under some dramatic circumstance would I go about doing this because, Facebook is my coke, and I'm not even saying that lightly.

But I won't last because I never do, and it's a good thing I've never done coke cause I've found, I'm an easy addict to the things I can't live without. Of course, it's only in the momentary do I believe this to be true.

I could give it up forever, and write a blog about it. Isn't that what we do? But nah, going on 6 hours. Will probably only last 24. Maybe 48, if this is incredibly severe.

We're having talks before things get too far, before lines get too blurred.  We're defining things, not yet worth defining, to save ourselves from past mistakes.  We're learning from old losts, though I'm not sure it's getting us any further.

We're growing up or something I guess.


Though, I must say, I'm really sick of guys telling me they're not one for relationships.  Because we always know, it's really a backhanded insult.  Whether they mean it or not.  None of us can help it, but the truth is, we're all the relationship type with the one we want to stick around for.


But hell, I've never managed to stick around. Even I don't know what this is all about.

"You know what I was thinking?  I can't believe you've never had a boyfriend."

Backhanded compliments all around.


Even when they're not worth much.

You know what's nice?  When guys come around with random apologies, months, years after the fact.


Makes you think, so you're not a total asshole.  And you did give a fuck. (And. I did matter.)


So, thanks.  Even with the late reaction.

(My own thanks, years after the fact. On account of a friends' random note.)

I don't know what you want from me, and it's not the kind of thing I want to ask.  Cause although I'm not really sure what I want from you, I also don't want to hear your reply.  Worst case scenario, you lie, worst case scenario, you tell me what I don't want to hear, worst case scenario, you tell me what I do want to hear, but none of this will work, none of this will work.

Maybe you're trying to get over someone.  I don't know, but maybe this is the case.  If so, a part of me thinks, so what's wrong with sticking around, but then the other part of me thinks, I don't want to be the girl that hangs around as you try to get over someone else.  I don't think it's a game I feel like playing.

I don't know any of this to be fact.  But I have this feeling, like something's off.  And I've never been wrong before. 


But the weird thing?  The weird thing is, being around you takes no effort.  As if we've been hanging out for years, as if you're an old friend, you know?  And I'm not quite sure why this is the case, but to me, being around you is comfortable.

And that's hardly ever been the case.

A few days shy of 3 year years ago, I graduated from undergrad. Here I stand, a few life goals accomplished, papers filed in overpriced diplomas, a few other lives lived, several countries over, some lessons learned in the plight of others, survivin' and matters of the heart, and still, miles and miles left to go.

"Everybody don't got it the same. I could be complaining about it and bitching about it...or I could do what I know how to do and try to make it right along the way."

all's quiet on the western front.

You used to joke me, calling me Kimberly cause you knew I didn't like it. After all this time, I still have this soft spot for you, and even though we don't talk enough to be friends really, I'm glad you still come around, every so often.

baby, you've got to be more discerning, i've never known what was good for me, baby, you've got to be more demanding, what are you holding out for? what's always in the way? why so scared of romance? this modern love breaks me. this modern love wastes me. Do you wanna come over and kill some time? Tell me facts, tell me facts, tell me facts.

Note:

As much as the modern woman may hate it, the archaic rules of waiting for a man to pursue her are grounded in truth. We can chase after men all we want, but at the end of the day, if he wants to be with you — whether it's a relationship or just sex — he'll do something about it.

At the end of the day, modern technology or not, the old-fashioned rules in the pursuit of love remain. Say what you mean, mean what you say. If you want someone, go after them, tell them what's up and if they decline — i.e., they're busy, they're seeing someone, they're busy — move on. Life's too short to sit around waiting for someone to one day magically fall for you. We know there are always exceptions, but the hard truth is, if they want you, they'll pursue you.


Annoying as fuck isn't it?

Logging into Love: From friends to Facebook poking

It was the summer of our aging youth, dotted with morning afters, whiskey, rental cars, sunny southern California and men we believed we adored.  The stocks never got high, but it was a damn good time.

"The only people for me are the mad ones."

Two things tonight.

One. I don't think I have the emotional capacity for you.

Two. I miss Italy, so bad that it hurts.

I would go along with someone like you....that's the problem you see.

"You seem like the type to be in relationships," you said.

Never been in one, I replied.

Don't have the time? you asked.

No, 'cause we all make time for the things we want to make time for.  I just got, issues.

I hear you, you replied.




But you and me, we're not the same.

And I know, if I get caught up this time, nothing good will transpire.  But I've never been one for caution.  But we haven't even gotten anywhere yet, we're only at the point of friends we say, but we're not friends, I actually don't think I could ever just be your friend, but it already feels too heavy, too heavy.

I said, I was done with the experimental stage of my life, but I guess that shit's never over, never over.  But this is too heavy to be any good.

the dilemma

Men are completely weird, and girls are utterly confusing.  As a female, I will admit to that much.

So you like a guy, enough to hook-up with him and not want him to hook-up with anyone else, but you don't want him to be your man, per se.  But of course, we all have trouble separating the physical and the emotional, most of us are incapable of it.  So we get territorial and we get insecure and then we wonder what the hell we got ourselves into.  Because when you start something with a man, you guys usually lay out some ground rules.  You say, you don't want a relationship, so that's how he'll take it.  That he's free to do as he pleases, and he believes you understand this, that you'll be okay with this because that's what you told him.

But the problem is, nothing's ever black and white, and all lines become blurred when it comes to matters of the heart even when it ain't love, it ain't even close.

Bloc Party reminds me of the early '90s, warehouse parties, smoke-filled rooms, poker chips, cigars and unrequited love.

What are you sayin' son?

Spring is in the air, and ordinarily I don't believe in this spring fever crap, but it seems the past few weeks, the men have been coming around in hoards. Not just my life, but all my female friends as well (watch, I just jinxed myself).

Leaving us up to our ears in trying to decipher what the hell he's saying beneath the subtext. Because it seems, and I stand on this, men often times lack the balls to say what they really mean, leaving us reading a text, pondering over a conversation in bed or over aim and asking each other–what the fuck does that even mean?


Case 1: My friend has been seeing a guy. And by seeing, I mean properly dating, more or less. Dinners, meeting friends and yes, hooking up.

In bed the other day, in the middle of him listing everything he loves about her, how smart she is, how beautiful she is, he goes:

"Can we just have a purely physical relationship?"

She says, "um no, i think we're past that at this point....why can't it be mental and physical?"

He replies, "cause i'm so attracted to you mentally and physically, I know i'm going to just fall in love with you."

Translation: "Can we just be fuck buddies, but I don't wanna sound like an asshole."

on chances

After all this time, nothing's the same anymore.

Most days, really, most days, you don't cross my mind.

But sometimes, somedays, I wish I still knew you.


I guess this would apply all across the board.  All those I once had friendships with, and those events that transpired over tabletop conversations, the manner of ease in banter levied with subtext, but momentary leaps, without heart, don't really stand a chance against daylight, do they?

this day in 2009

I miss Italy today. This time last year, I was struggling through a 7,000 word paper, and for amusement I stole my housemate's wooden cat and we left ransom notes around the palazzo.  I'd forgotten about this one.  It read wear your stiletto boots and bring cookies "in class or else your cat will lose a limb every day." Before hiding it in a cabinet, we hung it from a shower and made a ransom video.  Yea, we were that tired of writing papers. She never gave into our demands, I never pulled the limbs off.

on my religion

via @CodyBrown Just read David Foster Wallace's Comencement Speech. Holy. Shit. http://bit.ly/9CDgKv Thanks for the link @joecoscarelli @timsteno

"Of course the main requirement of speeches like this is that I'm supposed to talk about your liberal arts education's meaning, to try to explain why the degree you are about to receive has actual human value instead of just a material payoff. So let's talk about the single most pervasive cliché in the commencement speech genre, which is that a liberal arts education is not so much about filling you up with knowledge as it is about quote teaching you how to think....the really significant education in thinking that we're supposed to get in a place like this isn't really about the capacity to think, but rather about the choice of what to think about."

For some time it was about natty lights, kegs, solo cups, makeshift beer pong tables, mostly from plywood over at Home Depot, and we'd take midnight runs to Sheets for peach tea, chats with H-burg cops, and roomie trips to Walmart for toilet paper runs, brownie mix and you used to steal kool-aid packets for jungle juice, cause it was silly to pay for those little things you said.

Some nights we'd walk over to Hunter's Ridge or the Commons for random parties. Other nights we'd chill over the hookah and random shit. I didn't know as much then.


Can't really listen to Matisyahu without thinking of all this.

There's a thin line between sincerity and just plain creepy.

I have this thing, within the first 5 minutes of speaking with someone, I usually make the decision on whether it's ever going to work out. And by working out, I mean something real. Within the first 5 minutes, I usually semi-subconsciously admit what I end up realizing. And oftentimes, even when, I know things won't work in the long run, I can't help wanting to figure him out anyway. Because I don't get him, because I don't get his lingo, because his taste in music makes me wonder about the kind of person he is, because he's admittedly polite, because of the life he used to live, because.....well, you know, all the reasons why you make these efforts to pursue something at the hopes of maybe proving yourself wrong.


But I've never been wrong.





I remember, it was your birthday that weekend, and I should've showed up. He called me up, told me to come out, they were celebrating your birthday, and I made up a lame excuse because I didn't want to be around you. It's for the birds, you used to say, and you barely knew what the fuck it meant. You were my kind of person, I used to think.

I was laying in bed last night, fiddling around Facebook, of course, what else is new.  And I started this message to this dood, I got a call, had to take care of something so I never finished it.  And then I went back to rewrite it, and I thought, what's the point?

I'm all about technology propelling the state of modern romance–hell, it's practically my bible.  Tragically, so.  But it's all so pointless.  This back and forth online banter levied with subtext, but it doesn't get anywhere.  I've never been one to keep my mouth shut when I find a guy particularly attractive, but as of late, everything's been so superficial.  He's got nice shoes, I like the way he moves.  But what's the physical to anything real?


It's sunny as fuck outside, and I kind of wish it were raining.

Anyway, off to start another day.

People have been up in arms over AU sophomore, Alex Knepper's column in The Eagle "Dealing with AU's anti-sex brigade."

Some wonder how The Eagle could possibly publish such an inflammatory piece, from discussions at Jezebel to The Sexist at WCP.

In an editor's note the editor explained, "By publishing this piece, we were not trying to display our tacit support of Knepper’s views. However, as journalists, we are not in the business of censorship. As an editor, I would not feel right to fire or censor a writer who has offended people, because I believe that he has raised questions that warrant discussion."

"we want you back, you are on my shortlist of people that i'd like to come back to this country." 03.29.09

I've been busy, caught up.  I haven't seen you in awhile, in years actually.  I'm going to fix that one of these days.  Catch up over beers and your manner of making ordinary days into these stories.

Miss ya kid.

via Fuckyeahmashups by Immuzikation - All My Children (MGMT vs LCD Soundsystem)

I've handed out my fair share of unfiltered 2 a.m. intoxicated declarations.  What is it about those after hours moments, that we get this need to say precisely what's on our mind, even if in the morning after, we end up running back on everything we wrote or said, and apologizing profusely.

But for what?  In our moments of candor, we say these things we mean, but would never otherwise vocalize because we live behind these stuffy filters, for fear of rejection, for fear of a reaction, for fear of making the other person uneasy, or maybe they'll think we're completely weird.

Someone once told me, when you say something, and you mean it, don't take it back just because you're utterly mortified hours later.


My filter's never been too good, and I kind of like it that way.



Anyway, these are some I've received recently, that kind of stuck.  We don't say shit like this on the daily.  On this point, I know people say, oh, well they were drunk, but you see, it's in those moments, in that insistence to say, whatever they wanted to say, that makes it real.  Even if, only for that moment.


08.22.2009 – 4:41 a.m.

"fyi you are epic."

12.22.2009 – 1:25 a.m.

"i think i miss you."

03.20.2010 – 2:14 a.m.

"i need you to know how very platonically I love you. I love you like I love italy. And that's not to be taken lightly."

The length of the pacific is wider than we'd ever thought.


In the end, it's deeply ironic, how we define, a better life.


It's never going to be enough, is it.

I went to visit you today.  I don't know you.  And all this was just for a story.  But you spoke with me.  For hours.  In that waiting room.  You were incredibly charming, and incredibly young.  And I wish we'd met under different circumstances.  You made everything sound okay, as if living these years behind stone walls wasn't so bad.  You're probably stronger than most of us will ever be.

Everything that happened today feels like a dream.  As if you're not locked up, beyond the curve of the mountain, in that town up north.

"What an idea. A crazy, mad, wonderful idea."

-Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

8-year-old: where do u always go in the summer? i ask your mom about you. she said paris....

It's funny how things sound coming from a kid.  She said it so wistfully. 

I went back to my old high school today.  Dropped by to pick up my cousin, he's a sophomore now.  And I took the wrong turn out through the neighborhood we shortcut through.  Has it really been that long?

In those days, we were just trying to get the fuck out of this town, and we succeeded, and now I'm back here, driving down the streets I've known for far too long.


But this time, this time I'm going to stick around for awhile. Make something of myself 'round here.

I kind of miss the good old days of John Cusack standing outside Ione Skye's window blasting Peter Gabriel's, In Your Eyes, from his boombox–you know the scene. It was so romantic–can you imagine the giant batteries it took to run?

We used to have a boombox, growing up–it was so ghetto, there was a dead roach stuck in between the radio needles. We used to live in an apartment, in a less comfortable part of town.

Another reason why J. J. Abrams and Matt Reeves rock–or rather, Felicity's music director. The end of the final scene of the pilot, they play Peter Gabriel, as she's walking down the streets of New York City, having made the decision to stay.

Anyway, back in those days, a guy wasn't going to bother stalking you, unless he had a real thing for you, because hey, it took effort. These days with modern technology, and all these various mediums, all he has to do is click a few buttons. Over the course of the past few weeks I've noticed an unnamed sort of stranger follow me around the internet world–from one blog to Gchat to Linkedin to Twitter. I guess I should be expecting a Facebook friend request soon.



But who am I to talk. I stalk doods around the internet all the time. Though, I usually just stick with one or two mediums, at least, until we become real friends.

"You made me fall in love with you!"
"You know what, you're acting crazy! How could you think that you're in love with me, you don't even know me!"

on world politics

your inability to understand frustrates me so. you know, i'm just trying to keep my sanity. but you say, school is a luxury. this is a luxury. i write. i write and i write for free because its what i do, and i love it. but it's hard. and you say, you don't understand. you ask, what about that other thing you get paid for. you don't understand these things that i've made matter.

but what can i really say. should i say you're right on all counts. should i let it go. afterall, you lived through a war. you survived a war. what do i know about that. what do i know about those days. you survived. education is a luxury. writing is a luxury. dreams are a luxury. and you survived, you're the embodiment of this dream, this american dream. but you don't understand. your mother died of an illness, she was cremated, after the war, your father, he took his own life, and your sister would do the same years later. and he left. and you survived.

so what can i really say.

"We only get what we give."

Even on a rebellious day

I still have to write these things.

In those days it was about surviving the war, leaving behind mother, father, sisters, 7 gold bars buys you another life.

How could you ever understand.

Happy Chinese New Year



It's not like it was when I was younger, it never is as it was.  These days it's this inability to understand, and this need to hold on to things as they were.  When you're younger you never consider these things, as if culture would matter, and then it does.

An experiment on modern dating––from sexting to real-life courtship.

Photo by woolloomooloo, courtesy of Creative Commons.

I should blog for school, but honestly, I got nothin'.

This snowstorm has totally killed my 'lead a healthier lifestyle' kick. The only time I move is to go down to my kitchen, and that's only to get food.

(December snowstorm +) 2 feet + another impending 10-20 inches. I've never seen this much snow in my life.


There's not much in this life that we have total control over, or sometimes, any control for that matter. Can't control death or illness or whether some guy takes an interest in you or whether someone will take to the shit you write. So then you turn to the things you can control.


Sometimes you do things just because you can.


I wonder if that's a good enough reason.

Will we ever make up and be friends? I was always a sucker for your lines, the charm of your diction, makes anyone forget the war.

Dreamers, the lot of us

in streaming

In the after years we ran away to nations and nation states, lectures on American imperialism and the affairs of Central and Eastern Europe, Turkey's fight and London's ambivalence, after hours we decompressed, fueled on euro birra coined from 24-hour vending machines on the stone steps of the old church, Irish pubs across the river filled with Americans we loathed, there in the wood-benched alcove, under 90's tunes of the American dot-com era, before the money woes, of another time, we cheered on Fiorentina v Milan, over-hyphenated societies and the inability to understand the plight of the ordinary, in the messiest of times our only anthem was living


no one ever knows what they're going to be when they grow up, even after they've grown up, it was never about the destination, the end result, it was always about the continuation, the continuum, they didn't all hear us, they didn't all understand but there was admiration, envy

plagued by unrest, begging change to the world in which we'd return

we came back to the world as we'd known it, over-worked Americana in over-populated suburbias.

I read your work and I wonder

what kind of person you came to be

between the details

the ache of your pen

diction pulled between the creases

of these ordinary moments.

i didn't know what to say

He said something about timing.

She said something about luck.


   missed connections all across the eastern front.

Only in madness may there be brilliance.


P.S.

I'm still stuck on that hooker/prison/day labor thing.

Breaking hearts to make the papers.

"We accept the reality of the world with which we're presented, it's as simple as that."

The Truman Show

I recall saying, for 2010 I'd be shedding the crazy.


Why do I always have to say everything I'm thinking?


Keep mouth shut, for the love of god.


Must locate boundaries.  I was never good at that.


I'm gonna stop working on that thing called love.

Rome, Rome, Rome, Rome

"Apparently we can't get enough of the world," he says.
"No, I think it's a lifelong addiction."



You defined a generation of wanderers.  Kids who unknowingly turned into adults, grown on the pursuit of dreams.  From a generation that knew hardship well, a generation that made something out of nothing, a generation that mended the broken, a generation that moved nations.

Here, there are no hard times, merely the illusion of hardships raised against the backdrop of someone else's war.  Stuck in limbo, filled with a malcontent, perpetually delaying adulthood, they are unable to cope with the current state of all things.  For the dream, for every dream, every great dream, holds an even greater space for failure, for disappointment, for disillusionment.  So 85 days in the middle of France, imbibed in scotch, birra moretti, coffee houses, for here was only living, only living, only living, only here was there any weight.

Phoenix if i ever feel better - Watch more Music Videos at Vodpod.

It was the summer that plagued our aging youth. We danced, we drowned ourselves in liquor and bits of the college years. Fooling ourselves into believing liquid courage stood for something. Holding onto a past that had already closed. We weren't ready to move on.


You came around, you stayed around, and as abruptly, as wordlessly as it had begun, you left.

You were the anthem in the messiest of times.

One Day

Matisyahu reminds me of the old college daze and this boy I used to be crazy about.



Perez Hilton posted his new single, and I think I like it. Hey, Akon always seems to do right....well, music wise anyway.

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring."

marilyn monroe

I was always shoddy at timing, but then I never really believed it was about timing. And then sometimes I think that's all it is.

Guess it doesn't help when I'm consistently running away, or they're away or, well, it's always something.

Most days I just wonder, when am I just going to be enough? Forget the miles, forget the hundreds of other reasons why it just won't work. When will I, simply be enough. Cause I know, it was never the miles, never was.



But then again, who the hell knows what it's all about?

I start my internship at the Washington City Paper next week, and I'm halfway through this graduate program. I've spent the past several years weeding out what I didn't want to do, figuring out the things I lived for, and now I guess it's make it or break it. Either way, it'll be over with.

It's odd. I feel like everything I've ever worked for has lead me to here.

Has to be worth something.

I miss us + our kitchen + our adventures + our bathroom talks + our movie marathons + quarters.



I miss being so high on life.

Even now, our banter still works.

Despite everything, or maybe as a result of, I'm glad you exist, and I'm glad you're still kinda in my life.


With time, everything's just okay now, just good.

In 2010.

Shedding the crazy.