there is calm in the belly of the beast
there is no alarm in the least
for a thousand and one flashlights in one place
and the glow of a thousand TV waves
The tapping of my feet has moved from the floor and into my chest, where they beat restlessly to no certain rhythm, sometimes resting for a few moments before starting up their thrum once again. There are nerves in my belly now, spent yesterday wavering in uncertainty over the toilet, wondering if I was indeed going to throw them all up. I didn't. But this weekend marked a finality - the last weekend I will ever spend at home as I know it. I will not be back next summer. And so the family and I went shopping - two trips that always mark the weekend before I go back to school. Mervyn's for an extra pair of cheap Levi's jeans and replacement sunglasses. Target for underwear and socks and notebooks and pencil lead. The bags are thrown down on the floor of my room and I second guess myself at how much I'll be able to fit in what I'm carrying back. I won't be able to fit all of it. Up until this point, my mom has been fabulous at keeping my room the way it was - my posters up, my stuffed animals out, still piles of stuff left on the floor from last summer - but how long will it be there now? Saturday was one more week with my kittens. They are staying home and I have given up all Christmas and birthday presents to ensure that they will stay alive the year I am gone. Guilt. I charged up my iPod for the road trip and sometime this week I have to bring in pictures to Costco to get developed so I can put pictures in my album and pictures on the wall. Tiny obligations, squishing my chest in from all different directions. I do not wish to pack. I do not wish to say goodbye. I want, for a while more, comfort in things I know - things like sitting in front of the telly with my mom and brother at night, working on one of my half-finished projects. At the same time, I want this Saturday to get started!i'msoExcited!disneyland!Brother!RoadTripIknowwillbefabulous&IamSpendingitWithaFabulousPerson! but no, I am just a baby. And I'm going to wrap one arm around my little brother and the other around my mother. I'm going to remember how my dad fixed both my old sunglasses and Puss-in-Boots watch with his little tools and tricks of ingenuity. And I will smother my face in my little kittens' fur until I sneeze.
And while I think about this present that will soon be the past, I must remember that this is my past. And that the last few years of school - what I have felt and what I have done - they are the past, and other people are allowed the past as well and prying into a past that is not offered up to me willingly is not worth knowing. I hide things, I do. Not because I am ashamed, not because I am lying, not because I want to forget, but because this is you, me, here, now. That doesn't really matter right now. That was me in the past. This is where I am, and I hope to stop fretting and start trusting and start forgetting...
Monday, August 22, 2005
Friday, August 19, 2005
hot stuff
it is crunch time of summer. it is less than three weeks now that school begins and now my mind revolves around nothing but a bunch of lists and requirements and lack of time.
yesterday i decided that i was going to be the head honcho art curator at a national museum. since i discovered this, i have plunged head first into career reports from princeton review and the government about my newly decided upon career - one that, unless you are a curator a large museum, in true macalester style, pays an average of $30,000. and you gotta have a masters. and if you want to be a big shot, a doctorate. so what the hell. any job is hard to get into.
so i continue to plunge, evaluating internships and the schools that offer doctorates in art history/arts education/museology (i'll be going to socal, florida, or new york, apparently) and now again reworking my major/minor macalester plans.
decided i had to be an art major in order to achieve: it's impossible. can i be an art minor? should i do it in studio or history? i'm further along on the studio track, but would art history look better? and if so, does that mean i should take the 8:30am MWF art history 1 class next semester and therefore be totally screwed over in both sleep deprivation and staying until the very end to take my last final?
it's 10:41am and i've already taken to advil at work.
this planning, this stress, however, gives me focus. and none of it's really real yet.
give me back the stress of planning the road trip, please.
yesterday i decided that i was going to be the head honcho art curator at a national museum. since i discovered this, i have plunged head first into career reports from princeton review and the government about my newly decided upon career - one that, unless you are a curator a large museum, in true macalester style, pays an average of $30,000. and you gotta have a masters. and if you want to be a big shot, a doctorate. so what the hell. any job is hard to get into.
so i continue to plunge, evaluating internships and the schools that offer doctorates in art history/arts education/museology (i'll be going to socal, florida, or new york, apparently) and now again reworking my major/minor macalester plans.
decided i had to be an art major in order to achieve: it's impossible. can i be an art minor? should i do it in studio or history? i'm further along on the studio track, but would art history look better? and if so, does that mean i should take the 8:30am MWF art history 1 class next semester and therefore be totally screwed over in both sleep deprivation and staying until the very end to take my last final?
it's 10:41am and i've already taken to advil at work.
this planning, this stress, however, gives me focus. and none of it's really real yet.
give me back the stress of planning the road trip, please.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
nuh uh.
creepy beyond all reason:
http://www.popsci.com/popsci/futurebody
envy is bad and the english language is inept:
http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/features/2003/0307.epstein.html
http://www.popsci.com/popsci/futurebody
envy is bad and the english language is inept:
http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/features/2003/0307.epstein.html
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
amen.
"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." - Oscar Wilde
I feel like I am not in the gutter, but I am indeed looking at the stars. Today, I am in the stars, and I am flying by them and they wave to me, and today I am entirely convinced that I am going to do something fabulous with my life. Today I am convinced that I will be brave and bold, that I am as clever as all those people, that wherever I go, I will bring laughter and what I hope most of all is that I can possibly inspire this feeling in others that I care about.
A cliche sentiment perhaps, but my mood is nothing but jumping up and down on the bed and I'm five again and my head doesn't even come close to hitting the ceiling.
I feel like I am not in the gutter, but I am indeed looking at the stars. Today, I am in the stars, and I am flying by them and they wave to me, and today I am entirely convinced that I am going to do something fabulous with my life. Today I am convinced that I will be brave and bold, that I am as clever as all those people, that wherever I go, I will bring laughter and what I hope most of all is that I can possibly inspire this feeling in others that I care about.
A cliche sentiment perhaps, but my mood is nothing but jumping up and down on the bed and I'm five again and my head doesn't even come close to hitting the ceiling.
Monday, August 15, 2005
true love.
so i'll do my part
not to break your heart
and baby, don't break mine
because i adore you
and i know for sure
you're the spark on the sun
I love the Fruit Bats beyond all reason. I got a chance to listen to their new album yesterday (several times) driving to and from Fresno, a 2.5 hour drive that also allowed me to groove to Kelly Clarkson, Annie, and the new New Pornographers. It feels good to fall in love with a band - it's a fabulous affair, one that allows no broken hearts and allows me to give myself fully while not worrying about etiquette and what others think and no missing, none at all, but still the lovely painful twangs when I listen to "Earthquake of '73." Indeed, I will nurture the love we share and keep it close to my side, and oh, it should be my own little true love, singing of nonsensical things and the beauty of the world.
Yesterday I saw a bear at the zoo. He was alone and pacing and had claws half a foot long. The zookeeper came to the fence and held up a bunch of grapes. Grinning, the bear came to the edge of his habitat and squatted on his hind legs and held his paws out to the side like he was about to give the grapes a big brown bear embrace. 'Oh, I'm so ready,' I bet he was thinking. 'Throw the grapes to me, I will catch them in my mouth!' The zookeeper threw the grapes and they landed on the ground in front of his torso, his paws still spread out waiting to catch them. 'Where are they? Where are they?' . . . 'Oh, drat.' And as the bear was shifting his massive weight to get the grapes lying between his legs, a friendly zoo guest chucks another bunch of grapes. . . right at the bear.
I saw two hookers at the gas station. I assume they were hookers - they were scantily clad and had high heeled shoes on and were leaning through the window of a black pick-up. I wonder what they were saying. How do they know who to approach? Who pays for the motel room? Is it included in the price of the tryst? Is it cheaper then if they just do a backseat job or something? I wonder. But not really.
Friday, August 12, 2005
sad/sad/happy/happy
sad one: When my dad wearily asked, 'How many years left of school does Brian have?' My mom answered, 'Nine.' My dad sighed. 'Nine.' Nine years before he can retire. He will be 66. My parents have made amazing sacrifices for us - and this kind of selflishness is beyond my grasp of understanding - as compassionate as I try to be, everything I do is ultimately for my betterment. Let's face it - it's true.
sad two: The same pattern, repeated, a year later, with a person I thought was my, not to say 'evil twin,' but my equivalent in the world, a friend I made in ridiculous record time and who I thought would salvage my days. And they did, for a while. I could tick off a long checklist of traits they had in common: both had amazingly freaky similarities with me, both are incredibly sensitive males, both tend to believe the world revolves around them, both get offended incredibly easily, both take your sarcasm to heart and dig you into a hole of guilt so deep you can never get out, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. And so I call them my new best friend one week, and then can barely handle them the next. It is discouraging, this emptiness I taste.
happy one: I ate pizza and played Risk with my mom and brother tonight. I won Risk, after my brother pulled an Adolescent Hormonal Manuever and quit the game just as I took Southern Europe from him on the defense. Got drunk on wine while sipping it with my mom. Love my mom. Love my brother.
happy two: I am never sure whether to be responsible or irrational. Today, I choose irrationality.
sad two: The same pattern, repeated, a year later, with a person I thought was my, not to say 'evil twin,' but my equivalent in the world, a friend I made in ridiculous record time and who I thought would salvage my days. And they did, for a while. I could tick off a long checklist of traits they had in common: both had amazingly freaky similarities with me, both are incredibly sensitive males, both tend to believe the world revolves around them, both get offended incredibly easily, both take your sarcasm to heart and dig you into a hole of guilt so deep you can never get out, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. And so I call them my new best friend one week, and then can barely handle them the next. It is discouraging, this emptiness I taste.
happy one: I ate pizza and played Risk with my mom and brother tonight. I won Risk, after my brother pulled an Adolescent Hormonal Manuever and quit the game just as I took Southern Europe from him on the defense. Got drunk on wine while sipping it with my mom. Love my mom. Love my brother.
happy two: I am never sure whether to be responsible or irrational. Today, I choose irrationality.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
love: fruit bats.
rusty wings try in vain to catch
the wind that blew my heart away
turn this plane around right now
'cause i'm sick of all this shit
save yourself, save yourself
'cause i'm sinking with this ship
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
the how to's
How to make a grown man cry: tell him that beyond all else, what you crave is inspiration. Tell him that it's one of the reasons you want to go back to school so badly. Tell him that that's why you've been able to get along through these long summer months as well as you have. Lost time spurs anxiety, which in turn inspires activity. Tell him that the crispness of Minnesota, who knows, something about the place, sharpens your brain and quickens your heart. Tell him that your life is alright as long as you're inspired by something.
Tell him that, and he'll shout YES! and then ask you to stop, please, because he feels like his life is running ahead of him barely allowing him to catch up and that if you keep talking about inspiration, he will realize his lack and start crying.
Tell him that, and he'll shout YES! and then ask you to stop, please, because he feels like his life is running ahead of him barely allowing him to catch up and that if you keep talking about inspiration, he will realize his lack and start crying.
Friday, August 05, 2005
I WILL BE THERE WITH YOU WHEN YOU TURN OUT THE LIGHT
There comes a time in every properly maturing woman's life where she must stand over an office copy machine for hours in a short skirt. It is a rite of passage and I am proud to say that I have accomplished it.
Dear friends, how I hate copy machines. I hate the way the paper feels hot and grainy after it comes out and I hate the rays I imagine are frying my brain when the document is too fat to close the cover the whole way.
Dear friends, how I hate copy machines. I hate the way the paper feels hot and grainy after it comes out and I hate the rays I imagine are frying my brain when the document is too fat to close the cover the whole way.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
things that brilliant people have said
"Now once more the belt is tight and we summon the proper expression of horror as we look back at our wasted youth. Sometimes, though, there is a ghostly rumble among the drums, an asthmatic whisper in the trombones that swings me back into the early twenties when we drank wood alcohol and every day in every way grew better and better, and there was a first abortive shortening of the skirts, and girls all looked alike in sweater dresses, and people you didn't want to know said 'Yes, we have no bananas,' and it seemed only a question of a few years before the older people would step aside and let the world be run by those who saw things as they were - and it all seems rosy and romantic to us who were young then, because we will never feel quite so intensely about our surroundings any more." - F. Scott Fitzgerald
"Although a man may lose a sense of his own importance when he is a mere unit among a busy throng, all utterly regardless of him, it by no means follows that he can dispossess himself, with equal facility, of a very strong sense of the importance and magnitude of his cares."
"When I speak of home, I speak of the place where -- in default of a better -- those I love are gathered together; and if that place were a gypsy's tent, or a barn, I should call it by the same good name notwithstanding."
"Love, however, is very materially assisted by a warm and active imagination: which has a long memory, and will thrive, for a considerable time, on very slight and sparing food."
"Mystery and disappointment are not absolutely indispensable to the growth of love, but they are, very often, its powerful auxiliaries."
Nicholas Nickleby Charles Dickens
"I am not young enough to know everything." Oscar Wilde
"Although a man may lose a sense of his own importance when he is a mere unit among a busy throng, all utterly regardless of him, it by no means follows that he can dispossess himself, with equal facility, of a very strong sense of the importance and magnitude of his cares."
"When I speak of home, I speak of the place where -- in default of a better -- those I love are gathered together; and if that place were a gypsy's tent, or a barn, I should call it by the same good name notwithstanding."
"Love, however, is very materially assisted by a warm and active imagination: which has a long memory, and will thrive, for a considerable time, on very slight and sparing food."
"Mystery and disappointment are not absolutely indispensable to the growth of love, but they are, very often, its powerful auxiliaries."
Nicholas Nickleby Charles Dickens
"I am not young enough to know everything." Oscar Wilde
"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
Lady Windermere's Fan Oscar Wilde
"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."
"Oh, I don't think I would care to catch a sensible man. I shouldn't know what to talk to him about." The Importance of Being Earnest Oscar Wilde
"The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray, and the advantage of science is that it is not emotional." The Picture of Dorian Gray Oscar Wilde
Monday, August 01, 2005
general nostalgia and his troops.
You should check out some of my old entries. They are quite pretty. This is another thing about school: it inspires me to write good online journal entries, and definitely does not give me time to write entries on how old entries used to be good.
l'amour horrible
"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it oepns up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."-Neil Gaiman
I thrive in painful love quotes, I do. I like them more than any quote about love that is uplifting and soaring. I like the giant needle and the big stinger of love, I guess, the beautiful words that they inspire people to create. Because pain makes pretty amazing things happen. Oh it's bad, it's bad, but it's all so thrilling.
I wrote a love letter to the Fruit Bats today.
I thrive in painful love quotes, I do. I like them more than any quote about love that is uplifting and soaring. I like the giant needle and the big stinger of love, I guess, the beautiful words that they inspire people to create. Because pain makes pretty amazing things happen. Oh it's bad, it's bad, but it's all so thrilling.
I wrote a love letter to the Fruit Bats today.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
love is a place
Today with the help of my mom, my desperation and my mad skills at putting together a beautiful PowerPoint presentation (and possibly the fact that my parents love me after all this time), I got the green light for the 2005 SOCAL TO STPAUL ROAD TRIP. It's happening. Alex and I are packing it up and hitting the road on September 1, reaching Sisseton, South Dakota by September 3 to rub belt buckles and kick it with the cowboys. The 2nd Annual Two Star Barn Dance is just a big fat dessert on the side. After that, we'll head to the school and, hey, it's school again, and everything will fall back into place and it will be standard and okay and stressful and exhilarating and happy again.
old world underground where are you now?
subtract my age from the mileage
on my speeding heart, credit cards
accelerate, accumulate
looked for you downtown
wound up in a movie with no story
now it’s late and you are nowhere to be found
Listen to Metric.
old world underground where are you now?
subtract my age from the mileage
on my speeding heart, credit cards
accelerate, accumulate
looked for you downtown
wound up in a movie with no story
now it’s late and you are nowhere to be found
Listen to Metric.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
kitten update
It is with great sadness and an empty heart that I report that the kitties Dashiell and Yossarian, both aged 10 months, most likely will not be returning to St. Paul in the fall.
You see, the stepcousin I'm living with doesn't like/is allergic to cats and does not want me to bring them, causing me to take action to find a place for Dash & Yoss to stay. The kitties will most likely return to St. Paul in September of 2006 where they will be welcomed back with open arms after a year in SoCal with my dear friend Michelle. Please, wish them luck, those little buggers. I will miss them oh so much.
You see, the stepcousin I'm living with doesn't like/is allergic to cats and does not want me to bring them, causing me to take action to find a place for Dash & Yoss to stay. The kitties will most likely return to St. Paul in September of 2006 where they will be welcomed back with open arms after a year in SoCal with my dear friend Michelle. Please, wish them luck, those little buggers. I will miss them oh so much.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
back to the life
I have been back in the United States for a week and a half now. With the end of my beautiful stint in China came the end of desiring summer. I'm tired of my job and I seriously want to go back to school. Not to say I don't enjoy the things at home - I slept over at Dani's house on Friday, my Netflix, my brother, books at the library, my old girl cat, even my parents - but I've had them for the last two plus months. Basically, it's gotten to the point where this old life, two plus months is enough.
What I've been thinking about lately is the product tie-ins with cereal. They should never stop. There is something classically ridiculous and exciting about toys and special offer send-ins inside cereal boxes. I went with my mother to the grocery store the other day where we bought two boxes of Rice Krispies and a box of Frosted Flakes - over such cereals like Multi-Grain Cheerios - because they had Disney tie-ins - character wobblers and a free Disney pin to pick up at Disneyland. It was fun and now I've got two more extraneous little toys around the house - a Tramp and Iago wobbler that my cats like to bat around.
It's time for something new. I just got word that my grandparents are donating and old bed to me for usage next year in the house. I'm worried about finding a suitable desk and chair and storage space and all that. It's exciting to be out of the dorms, but the convenience was awfully nice.
What I've been thinking about lately is the product tie-ins with cereal. They should never stop. There is something classically ridiculous and exciting about toys and special offer send-ins inside cereal boxes. I went with my mother to the grocery store the other day where we bought two boxes of Rice Krispies and a box of Frosted Flakes - over such cereals like Multi-Grain Cheerios - because they had Disney tie-ins - character wobblers and a free Disney pin to pick up at Disneyland. It was fun and now I've got two more extraneous little toys around the house - a Tramp and Iago wobbler that my cats like to bat around.
It's time for something new. I just got word that my grandparents are donating and old bed to me for usage next year in the house. I'm worried about finding a suitable desk and chair and storage space and all that. It's exciting to be out of the dorms, but the convenience was awfully nice.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
work 'n play
It is with great pleasure that I will tell you about the little details of my place of work which make it wonderful, despite my oft-idleness and long hours:
I like my desk right by the window, where I can look out and see who is arriving for work and watch the Hong Fook Center Bus drive down the small street several times a day. I can watch all the old Asian people living in the tall housing complexes behind the office walking to and from stores, leaving with empty bags and coming back with full ones. I can watch everybody who works in this building and the building next to us take their cigarette breaks under the same tree. I can see how fast the wind is blowing by watching how fast the Volkswagen sign is turning. I can watch the day go by as the shadows change on the textured panels of the housing complex building.
I like walking to the lake on sunny days and sitting on the sloped grass and having a picnic all by my lonesome while reading a book and watching the other workers on their lunch breaks walking briskly around Lake Merritt. There are groups of ladies who are a little overweight who walk in groups around the lake and talk in loud voices like they were coming straight off of the pages in a chick lit book - I like watching them. In the middle of the lakeside park there is an amusement park called Children's Fairyland and a big marble gazebo. There are geese who migrate around the lake and chase you if you have food or get too close to them. I like being one of the grown-ups, strangely enough. I like knowing that everybody is on their lunch hour and I am also on my lunch hour. I like finding local eateries when I forget my lunch and sitting at a table by myself while drinking Diet Coke and reading a book. I like walking with my sunglasses on and swinging my purse bag. I like wearing skirts everyday and feeling more grown-up when I see myself coming towards me when reflected in windows. I don't know how I feel about not recognizing myself.
I like a lot of the people who work here. I like the man name Claude who told me I couldn't take lunch breaks until I had worked here 90 days and once said I had to bring donuts for everybody on Fridays and who then said, "I don't have a serious bone in my butt." I like the older man Pat who has 'PAT'S' labels on a bunch of office equipment like the automated stapler and three-hole punch and who says things like, 'It's not the size of the wand that pulls the rabbit out of the hat' that are cryptic and weird. I like Irene who gives me those looks when she is working with the older Asian guy who makes people feel uncomfortable when he clears his throat every four words and interrogates them about their lives, who has a very good heart but no social skills whatsoever. Most of all I like Brian, who does good impersonations and accents, and Anjela, who believes she's been visited by aliens, who work in the same room with me - I like that they get it, like me, my auntie, my brother, and Michelle do. We have a conspiracy about the number 22 and I have laughed until I cried so many times already in this room with them. I even like the creepy guy who now works in the room with us because it has provided us with Anjela's 'I'm scared' faces and lots of hilarious awkwardness and even more knowing looks within the room. I like that there is hot chocolate mix and an Arrowhead water cooler in the breakroom. I like that we get the SF Chronicle and the accountant who works here has learned to automatically hand me the 'Datebook' section. I like Luis, who has four children and a car with a sticker that says 'Couples for Christ' and next to that a sticker that says 'Kids for Christ,' who told me that he is glad that I work here.
I like the product catalogs and I like the fact that there are floorplans wherever I walk. I like imagining the conversation between the old Asian couple outside my window right now trasnferring the paper bag between them that says 'NEW LOWER PRICES.' The lady looks upset. I like the new lady who works here with the impossibly quiet voice.
I like to push my chair in and turn off my computer at the end of the day. Closure is always a significant moment.
I like my desk right by the window, where I can look out and see who is arriving for work and watch the Hong Fook Center Bus drive down the small street several times a day. I can watch all the old Asian people living in the tall housing complexes behind the office walking to and from stores, leaving with empty bags and coming back with full ones. I can watch everybody who works in this building and the building next to us take their cigarette breaks under the same tree. I can see how fast the wind is blowing by watching how fast the Volkswagen sign is turning. I can watch the day go by as the shadows change on the textured panels of the housing complex building.
I like walking to the lake on sunny days and sitting on the sloped grass and having a picnic all by my lonesome while reading a book and watching the other workers on their lunch breaks walking briskly around Lake Merritt. There are groups of ladies who are a little overweight who walk in groups around the lake and talk in loud voices like they were coming straight off of the pages in a chick lit book - I like watching them. In the middle of the lakeside park there is an amusement park called Children's Fairyland and a big marble gazebo. There are geese who migrate around the lake and chase you if you have food or get too close to them. I like being one of the grown-ups, strangely enough. I like knowing that everybody is on their lunch hour and I am also on my lunch hour. I like finding local eateries when I forget my lunch and sitting at a table by myself while drinking Diet Coke and reading a book. I like walking with my sunglasses on and swinging my purse bag. I like wearing skirts everyday and feeling more grown-up when I see myself coming towards me when reflected in windows. I don't know how I feel about not recognizing myself.
I like a lot of the people who work here. I like the man name Claude who told me I couldn't take lunch breaks until I had worked here 90 days and once said I had to bring donuts for everybody on Fridays and who then said, "I don't have a serious bone in my butt." I like the older man Pat who has 'PAT'S' labels on a bunch of office equipment like the automated stapler and three-hole punch and who says things like, 'It's not the size of the wand that pulls the rabbit out of the hat' that are cryptic and weird. I like Irene who gives me those looks when she is working with the older Asian guy who makes people feel uncomfortable when he clears his throat every four words and interrogates them about their lives, who has a very good heart but no social skills whatsoever. Most of all I like Brian, who does good impersonations and accents, and Anjela, who believes she's been visited by aliens, who work in the same room with me - I like that they get it, like me, my auntie, my brother, and Michelle do. We have a conspiracy about the number 22 and I have laughed until I cried so many times already in this room with them. I even like the creepy guy who now works in the room with us because it has provided us with Anjela's 'I'm scared' faces and lots of hilarious awkwardness and even more knowing looks within the room. I like that there is hot chocolate mix and an Arrowhead water cooler in the breakroom. I like that we get the SF Chronicle and the accountant who works here has learned to automatically hand me the 'Datebook' section. I like Luis, who has four children and a car with a sticker that says 'Couples for Christ' and next to that a sticker that says 'Kids for Christ,' who told me that he is glad that I work here.
I like the product catalogs and I like the fact that there are floorplans wherever I walk. I like imagining the conversation between the old Asian couple outside my window right now trasnferring the paper bag between them that says 'NEW LOWER PRICES.' The lady looks upset. I like the new lady who works here with the impossibly quiet voice.
I like to push my chair in and turn off my computer at the end of the day. Closure is always a significant moment.
Monday, June 27, 2005
a small story
Let me tell you a story that will warm your little, oh-so-fragile hearts. The story starts back two years ago during my auntie's graduation present to me - a trip to Disneyland. Little did we know that from this trip we would bring back an undying love and fascination with these little guys (http://fsmat.at/~dreiner/america/disneyland/DSC00366_shitty_mushrooms.JPG). (By the way, I found this image by using Google, even though I have many mushroom pictures on a computer somewhere, and I'm offended by the title of this lame guy's file name.) My brother, auntie, and I have signs, drawings, and little dances dedicated to the parade performing mushrooms. We also have matching mushroom pins.
So I've got my mushroom on my purse that I carry around everywhere. He just ended up there. Flashback to Saturday night. I'm leaving this Japanese food place from dinner and walking through the Little Tokyo plaza and our waiter, this incredibly effeminent skinny Japanese guy with blue contacts and bleached hair, jogs up and asks me, 'Is this yours?' He is holding my little mushroom pin. This is amazing. I am speechless. I think I manage to squeak out, 'Thank you!' but luckily Alex is there to tell him how important it is to me (aka, how much of a big nerd I am). I want to give this funny waiter boy a big hug because I love him because I am a big nerd. Do you know how upset I get when I lose things? If I had lost this... Thank you, kind waiter. I hope your hair never falls out due to bleach and I hope some instant karma is coming your way.
So I've got my mushroom on my purse that I carry around everywhere. He just ended up there. Flashback to Saturday night. I'm leaving this Japanese food place from dinner and walking through the Little Tokyo plaza and our waiter, this incredibly effeminent skinny Japanese guy with blue contacts and bleached hair, jogs up and asks me, 'Is this yours?' He is holding my little mushroom pin. This is amazing. I am speechless. I think I manage to squeak out, 'Thank you!' but luckily Alex is there to tell him how important it is to me (aka, how much of a big nerd I am). I want to give this funny waiter boy a big hug because I love him because I am a big nerd. Do you know how upset I get when I lose things? If I had lost this... Thank you, kind waiter. I hope your hair never falls out due to bleach and I hope some instant karma is coming your way.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
question:
answer you me: would you pay $30 to go see king tut in a museum?
why? how important is it?
now, read this:
"Yes, Tut is back -- loot in tow -- and this time he's bringing family. Of the 130 items on display, more than half come not from Tut's tomb but from the royal graves of the 18th Dynasty (1555 B.C. to 1305 B.C.). Tutankhamun items on display include the golden crown (royal diadem) that the boy king wore, a coffinette that held his liver, a golden ceremonial dagger and falcon collar. The now-iconic golden mask that traveled the first time will not be part of the current exhibition, as it would have added unwieldy travel and insurance costs to the exhibition."
talk about false advertising.
why? how important is it?
now, read this:
"Yes, Tut is back -- loot in tow -- and this time he's bringing family. Of the 130 items on display, more than half come not from Tut's tomb but from the royal graves of the 18th Dynasty (1555 B.C. to 1305 B.C.). Tutankhamun items on display include the golden crown (royal diadem) that the boy king wore, a coffinette that held his liver, a golden ceremonial dagger and falcon collar. The now-iconic golden mask that traveled the first time will not be part of the current exhibition, as it would have added unwieldy travel and insurance costs to the exhibition."
talk about false advertising.
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