Saturday, May 31, 2008

Room of One's Own

Moved. It's the first time being in New York that I have my own room. Within four years, I've gone from adjacent beds, to a couch, to a curtain for a wall, and now an actual room. I've upgraded and I don't know what to do with myself. The possibilities really are endless.

Today I had chicken and rice for the second day in a row. I ate under a red sculpture thing, trying to count all the lights I saw, and hopping over rain puddles. Realizing now that I probably looked disturbed. The financial district is kind of beautiful. All the lights, it's like music, my version of wonderland.

Remembering this line from a short story I heard at a reading a few months ago. I can't remember exactly what the line was referring to, I think it was about soldering metal, but it was so poetic, and he said it so casually. "You've got to let it heal before you hit it again."

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

a kind of poem

It used to be when I made mistakes that I would think, Well, I'm much better than that.
And it would be a kind of relief, a coming back into self, but I'm losing that certainty.
The more mistakes, the more space it seems to take up, and the less I have to fall back on that's not been infected.
Becoming jaded - the word makes it sound like a beautiful thing.

I'm dying my hair back, maybe a dark brown. No one ever warns that orange hair can be dangerous. Ha.

this is a trailer for a new movie, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", which looks so beautiful. The spanish version is the only one that I could find. It's based on the F.Scott Fitzgerald short, about a character who ages backwards.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Games with Strangers

Landing at LaGuardia today, I'd decided in a moment of empowered confidence, that I could be frugal and take the bus and subway into Manhattan. It was harder than I thought it would be, being screamed at that the bus does not take dollars, 'how do I not know that get on already', and then bargaining for change, all while trying to carry my duffel bag in a way that would be least likely to stunt my height.

When I finally got off at the subway station, there were no subways running because of a switch malfunction.

Instead, somehow, I ended up taking a cab with a stranger, who found me sitting dejectedly on the sidewalk. The stranger was in his 40s, a slightly drunk man from out of town with an asian 'preference'. (I've decided not to say fetish anymore, seems unfair). I've always said I can sense 'asian preferences', but I guess it's not really a gift, because the moment the person in question starts talking, it's a pretty standard conversation, with few variations:

"Where are you from? Oh, I mean like your family :gestured wave:. Oh really? Well, I love kimchee. Yea I like spicy things. Love 'em. And barbecue. You know, I visited Korea once. And my friend's brother's cousin's boss's wife is a korean lady. charming girl. yea... and Japan, I love Japan. Have you been there?"

Usually, I wouldn't have agreed to being picked up to share a taxi, but I think maybe all the traveling and the 'we are all connected lights' thoughts made me feel more receptive. In the cab, he asked me how old I was, and stupid me thinking I was being funny, said "17," with a smile.

I saw him quietly flinch, "You look... very.." I didn't want to find out if I'd inadvertently stepped into 'Catch a Predator' territory, so I told him no, I had graduated college, and the rest of the ride was listening to nostalgic life advice - which was actually, considering he was on his third straight day of beer, very helpful.

As we crossed into Manhattan, there was a moment where the cab paused, seemed to hover on the metal bridge, right before the skyline. The sun was setting, and I could see it falling behind the buildings. Even he stopped talking, "It never stops to amaze, does it?" he grinned and I had to smile back, it was like finding light, finding home.

Friday, May 23, 2008


From the Windy City.
All I wanted was a jumping picture ::sniff::
photographer: my patient younger brother

It only proved my inability to get off the ground. Or maybe he just wasn't able to capture the vast height of my jumps quickly enough.
sigh, i even put my bag down. (could represent the abandoned weight of earthly burdens?) ha.

"Am I embarrassing you?"

final resort, "Why don't you ... try jumping off the ledge?"



If I remember correctly - from the amazingly horrible speech of John Paulson at stern graduation -'twas Winston Churchill who so wisely said, "never never never give up." ever ever. Although I prefer the version "try again and then quit. there's no point in being a damn fool about it."

The renewed motto combined with my brother's fear and desperation after I told him I was not leaving Chicago without a jumping picture:


Thursday, May 22, 2008

kill, marry, fuck

I woke up this morning with a nagging question from the past...
And really it made me lose sleep, especially because I can't remember how I answered.

kill, marry, fuck? fuck, marry, kill?

Tom Cruise, Flava Flav, Spencer from The Hills

think about it...

Summertime things - watermelon soju and pat bing soo =]

Monday, May 19, 2008

SES forever

I got my hair dyed in Chinatown yesterday.

I wanted originally something like:

intriguing yea?
but I changed my mind after watching "Bride with the White Hair", apparently her hair is white from grief. And I figure I don't need to look anymore evil. I did fall for Leslie Cheung in that movie. He was so charismatic... I only wish he weren't dead. Or gay. Double obstacles. Dead doesn't really affect my imagination, but the loving men part is a little harder to overcome in my fantasy.

So anyway, after a few hours of processing, prodding, feeling very non-chinese, my hair looks like this:

SES forever =] haha.

90s kpop singer hair. I can just imagine my relatives whispering in confusion, "maybe she thinks things are like when she last visited? poor girl, trying so hard to fit in." I should dig out my platform flipflops and UFOs. Maybe visiting Korea can be like time travel.

I'd prefer to say I look like a sunset. a Botticelli piece? Or maybe a tangerine. I don't know.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Waking up to the real world

I've graduated, turned a year older, it was a double slap in the face from reality.
and the week ended last night with a guy peeing on me.
Or i think he did. I was on a street corner somewhere in the east village, kind of lost, and my dress kept blowing out from me. I felt wetness on the front of my dress, rain? water? spit? I look over, and there's a guy zipping up saying, "Ohhh sorry. looks like you peed yourself haha."

And I was so under the influence that for a few minutes I thought I did. I started crying, was I one of those girls? It was like I was in kindergarten again looking at the little girl wearing the telltale polyester shorts the school kept for that purpose.

I ran, dripping randomly at intervals. Tried to dry myself by running. It was so cold, and I'd stop and catch my breath, but couldn't smell anything. Maybe it hadn't really happened. Maybe it was a sign from God, Run, run your life so you can dry off when things piss on you.

When I got home I scrubbed myself off and went over it again in my head. I went to sleep feeling reassured, no it hadn't happened. Maybe it's all the power of revisionist memory, but it was just water or alcohol... it hadn't been warm, and I don't know how someone could really aim that far. Bah.

Anyway, I started this cause I wanted something new, and it seems easier than xanga. I'll try to be good about it and write everyday... hopefully no more stories like the one above. It's disjointed because I'm still hungover.
Graduation made me a little depressed, no more chances to turn in a paper on time, revise my gpa. It's done, get to start over.