st. louis is a good place.

And I’m leaving tomorrow.  Dang.  But i had a ridiculously good time.  Ended up seeing a few old high school classmates randomly, and awkwardly, but endearingly;  was supposed to go to the botanical gardens with Alex for the japanese festival, but ended up forgetting and bailing (oops, sorry man).  Most importantly, I spent time with muh parents, ate every kind of fish and water thing that could be found and cooked (or not), and went running, running, RUNNING.  Or tried.  Sort of a loping, limping, lumbering deal up some hills on some trails in some woods, and there discovered some paw paw trees, and some paw paws, which are now sitting on yonder window sill.  I may bring a few back, and in a couple of days, they should be ripe enough to eat, yum.

Speaking of eating. I had durian today (which is actually good stuff, I swear), and talked my mother into having some.  She told me she thought it was good, bar the initial onslaught of stink.

Glad I came back.  Now I’m going to sleep.

I almost posted an entire rant about I’m-feeling-sorry-I’m-Asian-in-America today.  Fortunately, I stopped myself after realizing I was just feeling uselessly pitiful.  I’m keeping it though, to remind myself I should never again write like a pathetic and incompetent fuck. It’s guess okay to feel indignant about things, but to whine like the world owes you is a different matter altogether.

So. My plans for making a loft have been pushed back.  Mostly because i wanted to replace the nasty-ass carpet with hardwood.  That project was pushed back in favor of making one of those tables that can roll out. Which I’ve bought materials for but haven’t used. but it’s okay now. because my parents got me A FUCKING TABLE SAW.  Victoryyyyyyyyy!!!  There’s a nagging suspicion they got it so someone (so me?) could finally finish the fucking basement. They’re awesome.  I would live with them for the rest of my life if they’d allow it.  Not just because they buy me stuff and cook way better than I do.  I really like them.  sometimes I get frustrated but I actually really like them.  of course there’s that thing where it’s like oh we’re family, and hey you spawned and grew me so of course I should love you; but I actually really really like them as well. They’re good to be with.  We get along so well. annnnddd my cursor just disappeard.  Fucking great.  How the fuck do I make it come back?!

okay, it’s back.  and i lost my train of thought.

but yeah, they’re great.  They fact that they’re two Chinese scientists who let their only child attend art school at their expense says it all.  Like fuck, you’re Chinese.  You should have kept me fucking pre-med.  I’m so glad.  I’m so glad I’m gonna go run in the woods.  Or hike.  But that sounds boring, so run in the woods it is.

i drew!!

went to figure drawing yesterday for the first time in like two years, and actually sat down seriously to draw something for the first time in more than a year. two hours ish and some charrrrrrcoal.  right leg’s fucked up, everything else feels kinda neglected. just didn’t have enough time to tweak.  but hopefully it’ll get better once i start drawing again. the mindlessness of just drawing from life was sweeeet.  feels gooooooooooood~

so i’m kind of embarrassed to say that i’ve been keeping a journal. i’m reluctant to call it a diary. or a dairy, which is good stuff.
it’s got some milky off-white pages, attached to some really sleek binder rings, and its even got some pockets for notes and credit cards on the inside of its buttery dark brown leather binding.
ah’ve been writing a lot lately, and the only reason i haven’t been posting that shit up here is that i’m reluctant to offend anyone. not that there are people who actually read my blog, but my luck is such that someone will stumble upon it someday and i’ll be in deep shit for being direct and a bit mean.

so i guess that means that i’m careful of what i write. and so also what i say to people on a daily basis. but i wasn’t aware of it until i started to consistently keep a diary I MEAN JOURNAL, which isn’t really a better alternative. so pretty much: people are interesting, but i shouldn’t tell them.

but yeah, i write now.  about what i ate, and where i am, and what people around me are doing and stuff like that. and i talk behind people’s backs. with myself, which is always fun.  which has reduced the need to bloggah. which is why i haven’t in a while.

but i am now.  i feel cut off from the world lately.  alex is in north carolina for the rest of my life, don’t feel like jing would appreciate me futzing around her house all day after a week of seeing me all the time, ifrah’s off at five year death sentence med school, bryan’s in chicago, cindy’s got a job and classes and i haven’t talked to her recently so i don’t want to bother her, don’t feel like calling up james or nathan because we’re not that close, and the remainder of everyone else i used to hang with i don’t feel very enthusiastic about.  so either the people i would care to pester aren’t here for me to pester, and going to see them would be too much of a nuisance, or i don’t feel cut off enough that i want to put energy into rekindling those old flames.

so is it a good isolation? dunno. i imagine this is what my life will be like after retirement.

i’m pretty much always in the house, because i’d get a heat stroke stepping outside, and the only people i see occasionally are my parents.  and my cat.  and i’m already accustomed to it, apparently. the day before yesterday i went to the gas station to purchase some hot cheetos and a ring pop, and nearly drowned in the sea of humanity that swelled in out of the heat.

now i’m reworking my office space. gonna build a platform that wraps around half of the room and extends partially out of the closet. and the only way to enter the room will be by climbing a ladder or crawling through a hole. heee hee heeee. this way, more storage space and places to sleep and work and stuff.  lots of nook and cranny stuff.  maybe a hammock in the rest of the closet.  and some roll-y tables and stuff. with some bamboo flooring or something like that. and little bookshelves stuffed into some spaces, and a little platform for my laptop with a little cup for my pens and pencils. and a little box or a little drawer for my erasers. hopefully i’ll have the strength to finish it. i found this really cute hand-saw yesterday, so i’m excited for using it.  gonna make some more shelves after i finish building and put them in cool and useful places.

okay. i’m gonna stop before i jinx meself.

terminator: what the fuck.

christian bale: skellington

sam worthington: really good-looking

that was all i really got out of it.  it was one of those movies you left the theater thinking good thoughts about, but halfway to the car, you sort of stop and go, ‘hang on,’ why did the half man half machine super human infiltration device with a brain that could sync to skynet give up his heart to a dying john connor who was an ass when the place was crawling with normal human beings who’d end up dying later anyway; why didn’t they just rip the fucker out of one of them? and then everything just fell into place, and by the time you got to the car you were pissed that you spent ten bucks and most of your sunday afternoon being tricked by fancy ass cgi, and that none of the issues the movie began to pose had really been addressed, and the audience had been left hanging on what the movie had been about besides for the two hours of action until the end when the machine unselfishly (and stupidly) gives away his own heart.  and?  what the FUCK kind of conclusion are we to draw from that shitty and self indulgent ending?  aaaand we are left hanging and the movie ends.  we all saw the fucker coming, right from the beginning, when some broad shouted at the camera for the umpteenth time oh marcus, what a strong heart you have! and marcus what a heavy metal bones you have!  thanks, red. now somehow give back the three hours of my life wasted watching the worst movie i’ve laid eyes on since crank 2.  except i went in knowing that crank 2 would be absolutely horrible, and relished every minute of it. terminator salvation= biggest let-down of all time. and i only have myself to blame for going to see it.

anyway, i could go on. and on. and onnnn, but i’ll stop here.  the one good thing= that new australian actor= FINE.  and a hell of a lot better at acting than christian bale.

i’m gonna go get something to eat. i might write a later when i’ve stopped fuming.

fucking hate chain mail

so i don’t think i can stress how much i HATE chain mail. and that people do it because they’re afraid whatever threat presented by said chain mail (bad luck for the week, bad luck for the month, bad luck for the REST OF YOUR LIFE) will be set upon their unfortunate souls if they do not send it to thirty one and a half people within the next fifteen seconds. i’m also kinda pissed that in the deepest part of my soul is the fear that i WILL be unlucky for the rest of my life if i don’t. but the good news is that i received a forwarded text today, and i read it, and i resisted sending it to anyone. like shit, do i really need the threat that i’ll be single for the rest of my life, or of imminent death, hanging over my head to tell a couple of people that they’re important to me? kind of like, i wouldn’t have normally done it, but now that this meaningless piece of chain mail has wriggled it’s worthless self into my mailbox, i’m gonna spam ten other people (and not one more than that), not with like a phone call and be like, hey, you cool, or even like a random how’s it going email, but with a few bytes worth of shit written by some dumbass pimply white girl with too much time on her hands? all because she threatened me a couple hours of bad luck? wtf, like a smaller version of christianity.

not that i have that much of anything against christianity.  one of the only things that really bothers me is that people need to be threatened into doing the right thing.  do something wrong, spend a couple of eons burning crispy. people are bad sometimes. but i still want to think that people are inherently good, and worth saving, even if we don’t believe in some invisible force and a dead guy. i’d like to think that the majority of us would do the right thing even without a chasm of fire and torment yawning dangerously in front of us. of course it’s not as simple as that.  other variables have to be taken into consideration.  i’m not completely evil becuase i was raised pretty well.  environment, the way the world already is sort of kind of really a really big deciding factor.  and then i start getting depressed, and i start losing the positive thoughts i had about humans before, becuase how could things ever change for the better?  somewhere, someone will always be suffering the cruelty of another.  and the world is such a big place.  loads of shit happens in such a big place with so many people. and this is where i get REALLY depressed, figure people suck, and then stop thinking about it, but be in a foul mood for a really long time because of it.

but then i remember that there’s that one steak in the fridge, left over from last night, when i was with friends and family and having a really good time.  i’ll think of how much fun it’ll be cooking and eating the bastard when i get back, and then maybe i’ll look up and see a really awesome cloud, or a really good looking tree, or some mountains in the distance, and remember that one time i went into the mountains with my parents, and we were so high up, and the air was so clear and it was the very first time i could  pretty much see the rest of the fucking universe, and how it was so cold even though it was june, and how it felt gazing up at the stars through the steam of my own breath. or when we visited family in china, and went to some chain restaurant who’s specialty was soy milk (so fucking good) and for no apparent reason or special event, we were just all hungry, and there were so many of us we split up and sat at two different tables, but next to each other, and ordered different dishes, tried to kept it secret, but of course in the end shared and passed back and forth anyway,  and it was so loud because of everyone else in there talking and laughing and the clanking of dishes and chopsticks and our own talking and laughing, but none of the clamor was taken negatively; right then no one was unhappy at least, and maybe people were even happy, or exceedingly and obnoxiously so, like i was, and no one was thinking of anything else but the food and the three generations of our family there eating it together, and having a good time doing it, and nothing could go wrong then; there was a harmony, and kind of a moment/feeling, like a pocket in time that can never be replicated, that has a it’s own little hinged box place in my heart, precious, like something you’d handle carefully with cupped hands.  it’s like remembering the good things, and because of that anticipating all of the other good things to come, and the memories to be made, it makes me remember that my foul mood should be temporary, and that even if people generally suck, i don’t have to make myself miserable because of it, i don’t have to make the world’s burden my own, and that there are uncomplicated things i can surround myself with, and that there are a lot of good people i can learn from, and afterwards, i would have learned enough that if it somehow came to me make a decision, i would try to do what was right, even if there are others wouldn’t.  really it comes down to ignoring the bad things, or at least putting thoughts of them on hold and having yourself a good time.

FUCK i’m hungry.  imma go scavenge for some food.

iunno….uuuuhhhhmmmmmuhhh

i got back to st. louis yesterday night, and we unloaded all of my shit in the dark; but FUCK it was nice out.  the entire drive back to st. louis i was stuck in the back seat of our tiny fucking rav4 squished against a box of some clothes and shit, and hellas uncomfortable, but it was worth it because i got to talk to my parents (mostly my mom, dad just listens and spouts useful information here and there, totally cool) like the entire fucking six hours it took to get back because of some nasty-ass traffic outside fucking chicago. that and i ate, because my mom brought this chicken she had made, and it was fucking awesome.  It was like shit everytime i leave she discovers new ways of making really good food so i can eat it when i get back.  it was in a zip loc, but shit, when she opened it, it was like i was back on the garbage- and shit-strewn streets of china year 2000, standing in front of a vender while my aunt bought what was to be part of dinner that night because she was too tired to cook, and i’d make a fucking fool of my ten year old self with drool nearly sloshing down my chin, because i hadn’t eaten all day and that fucking bird smelled awesome.  and i’d remember the smell all the way home, and it’d make the car exhaust and rotting watermelon peels and the humidity and the general human cesspool pressing in on my little self just a bit more bearable. and so when we got back, and i finally got to sink my teeth into the tasty bastard, it was like FUCK, HOLY FUCKING SHIT: VICTORY MUTHAFUCKER. VICTORY.

but yeah, it was like that, all over again, on a car with the two of the best people in the entire world, on the way to wherever i don’t really care, because just driving and talking with them was fucking awesome, and i’m sad it’s over, because that sort of thing, moment, feeling, period in time, whatever never really repeats itself, and for that i feel an acute sense of loss. so yeah.

but i’ve been eating non-stop ever since i’ve gotten back, and have been walking around with the distended belly of a ten year old. it’s fucking sweet, but sometimes extremely uncomfortable and at times even painful.  like i’m pretty sure that if someone at this very moment even looked at me the wrong way, i’d end up puking all over my keyboard and sheets.  that’s how full i am.  and i just can’t stop. which sucks cause i’m being forced to go to some chinese community gathering shindig this weekend.  my parents’ friends are inviting people over for dinner and shit, specifically asked about me, to which my parents specifically replied that i would definitely be back from school by then, and would definitely be attending.  so yeah.  last thing my confidence/self-esteem or lackthereof needs is some middle-aged chinese mother of an mit alumni telling me i most definitely look different since the time she saw me, so is it the haircut? teeth whitened? oh no, i see. you’ve gained weight haven’t you? gotten a bit chubbier? a bit fatter? been eating? under a lot of stress lately, hm? was it finals at school? what school was it? chicago, was it? iit, uic, northwestern? ah, an art school! what is it they do there, anyways? you paint then? make things out of clay? hmhmhmhm. fancy yourself the second da vinci, do you? ohhawhawhaw!  i’m partial the degas and monet myself. you’ve picked a major then? oh, no majors at your school? oh i see…

and they walk away practically oozing disapproval. that’s going to be my entire fucking night.  the only thing making up for it is the free food i’ll be stuffing my face with.  i will go ape-shit on their asses and fucking clean house if they cross me, make sure there is not a single vittle left, fuck.

fuck i don’t even care anymore. whatever the fuck i do shouldn’t have anything to do with them. and by them i mean the large group of middle-aged chinese parents who are more or less less than good people. a far cry from my parents.  who are fucking awesome people.

i just paused to think.  and the silence fucking roared in my ears. ROARED, muthafucker.  and it was painful.  it hurt. hurt good.  so so SO SO SO SO GOOD.

but i think under all of this sort of euphoria, there’s a hint of some sort of depression or anxiety, sort of like an undertone that i really want to tell to go fuck off. i visited high school again, and caught one of my favorite enlish teachers of all time lecturing prufrock. i am exactly a prufrock, minus the middle aged balding skinny part, but yeah.  fuck.

whatever. i’ll eat something tomorrow, and everything will pan out, and won’t give a fuck, because i’ll be so fucking full, i’ll be investing all of my energy into holding back the puke.

motherfucking swine flu wtf?!?!?!

so is it just a sick, unlucky coincidence that i’m having massive bouts of diarrhea while swine flu is on the loose?
…..
the last time i had continuous bouts of diarrhea was the day before and of our six billion dollar research critique. i still remember camping out on the floor of the first year program’s public bathroom at two in the morning, because the bouts came so frequently that i figured i was wasting time on the trips to a fro, and decided i’d stay on location to finish my project. i blame the dysentery for my project’s shortcomings.

so. either i have swine flu….. orrrr that the weather changed so suddenly my bowels just couldn’t deal.
hopefully, it’s the latter, because i don’t really wanna die.

fricking most lame-ass post ever

i am sitting in kirk’s room watching frasier with tim and amy.
kirk has been in the bathroom ever since i’ve gotten here twenty minutes ago.
and it’s heckas awkward. maybe i should ask if i should leave….. hm….
i feel like i might be introooooding but i have no idea how to say itttt without creating more iffinessssss
or it might be that i’m creating the awkwardness all on my own cause i do that a lot.
ohhhhh gahhhdddddsssssssssss
awkwardddddd
i’m creating the awkwardness all on my own cause i do that shit
that’s the shit i do, it’s a tumor on my ass
i’m so fricking awk. awk awk awk awk awk awk awkward
but my roommate is watching slumdog millionaire. yeah. sooooo
iunno but shit frasier is hellas distracting so i’m gonna stop typing. mmmmkay

i’m hungry

i’m reading larry’s blog, and i am no longer unenthusiastic about larry in general.

it’s like eating chipotle fajita burrito stuffed with flavored cotton dipped in cajun powah sauce wrapped around massive AU atomic number 79 bricks.

i should email him, but i see him later today so i’m gonna be lame, see if he fails me.

KIRK PWND THE CAKE.

i’m gonna be an anthropologist and live at the university with all of the other professors, and then later on retire to the pennsylvanian countryside.