Speaking of Confessions...Pt II

1. I listen to cheesy love songs from the 70s 80s and 90s
2. I wrote secret admirer letters to one of my instructors in college out of sheer boredom and the fact that he was extremely unattractive, so I thought it would brighten up his day.
3. I have only 2 more signs to make out with before I've made out with at least 1 person of every sign.
4. I used to dial up random numbers on weekend nights because I have a theory that people are so lonely, they'll talk to anyone.
5. I have videos that would ruin any political career that I could possibly aspire to.
6. I'm a complete asshole and don't treat anyone well.
7. I once beat up a boy because I liked him and didn't know what to do with those feelings.
8. I was sexually assaulted by someone I was dating.
9. Sometimes when I lie awake at night, I wonder, if I knew that I could get away with it in the eyes of God and the law, if there is someone I would happily kill.
10. I slept with a guy who looked like my ex-boyfriend just to prove that I wasn't afraid of my ex-boyfriend anymore.
11. I once told someone I loved him just to get him to sleep with me.
12. I am terrified of cops.
13. I am homophobic towards lesbians.
14. I wake up every morning wondering if someone I love will die today.
15. I am distrusting of people with blue eyes.
16. I can not be in an enclosed space alone with anyone, male or female, without being scared of being raped.
17. I have the magical power of turning guys gay.
18. I have never kissed another girl.
19. I watched an older relative of mine cheat on her husband as I silently raged.
20. If there were no such things as STDs, I would devote my life to having sex all of the time.
21. I have talked to a ghost.
22. Getting people to reveal their inner most thoughts is like sex for me.
23. I have a doctor fetish because I have a thing for people who smell and look "clean."
24. I wish I could know what sex is like for a man.
25. I'm terrified that people secretly think I'm dumb.
26. I won't date Asians because statistically, they have the smallest penises.
27. I'd like to start a cult.
28. I think Jesus just had a good publicist.
29. I think women need to stop thinking with their hearts, and start thinking with their penises.
30. I am drunk as I write this.

But not all of these are true.

11/30 Recap

Oh hell yeah! 11/30. The last day of November. It's beautiful, isn't? Let's get rid of these dark thoughts and move on to sunnier days. It's been a hell of a month, hasn't it? We had to look at the underbelly of things. Of our lives. Our relationships. Who are we? What is love? What the hell are we doing in this place, granted with the sudden, unexpected responsibility of life?

God, I had to face some ghosts. Didn't you? But you know what? At the end of the day, there's always something to live for. Wanting to know the next page of this book.To be surprised by the possibility of love around the corner. Of the good in people. Of a day when you can feel that what you do and who you are really matters in this world. And we all got through it. And that's seriously something awesome.

So I'm sitting here, doing some writing, listening to my Ambulance LTD CD. It's so, so good. It's what Keane is to Brian. Something about it, I just emotionally gravitate towards it. And I was just thinking that...life is good. I love the little roller coasters that life brings. Each month with its flavors, its sweet highs and richer lows.

I've been reading a wide variety of books lately and I love how all these people, these writers , have such different voices. Personalities. You end up trying to imagine what kind of person the writer is. It's kind of why I like blogs. You see the inner workings of so many different types of people. It's a way of psychically traveling, experiencing far away things, mystical things. It's hypnotic, the way looking in a kaleidoscope was mesmerizing for us when we were kids.

I feel terrible about my work situation. Everything in life is just a relationship, you know? All relationships are degreed mirrors of each other. The dynamic between my company and I are like, they want me to care more and invest more of my attention on them, but I just won't. I can't find it in me because I just don't love them and even when I try, my heart is not in it. And so they're offering me gifts to get me to commit to them, but I just can't. And it's not fair to string them along. But I don't know how to say to them that I'm so, so sorry, but I just don't care enough about the company. They're so afraid I'll leave. But I'm just not into it and I think it's dragging them down. Fuckwittage. Like Helen Fielding would say. I feel guilty because I feel like I'm fucking with them, that sensitive bunch. Nice, nice people though.

Ah, I'm going to try harder. Because I want to be fair to them.

Thought of the day:

It's the people who possess the most fear who also possess the most sorcerous and instinctual ability to scare. For me, this was kind of a scary thought to mull over.

Speaking of Confessions...

So I was on www.grouphug.us looking at confessions and I found this one:

There's these two guys in my office, both in wheel chairs. By accident I shouted "here comes the 'other one' "

...and I giggled myself silly because it's totally something I would do. So I was telling Bohr about this one time, when we were filming Cojones, I needed a midget. So I approached this really short guy who I knew through the comedy troupe (and incidentally, who was dating a friend of mine), and I went to lengths to convince him to come play "the devil" for me. So we're on set and he's in a little red pajama one-piece jumpsuit with feet and he thinks he's playing the devil. But I'm really focused at the task at hand and end up blurting out, "Okay, I need the midget." And from the other side of the room, I hear, "Oh is THAT what I am?!?!?"

I felt TERRIBLE.

Okay, so I just talked to the car dealer and worked it all out. Apparently the $1,000 that was paypalled from my mom's credit card was a deposit for a $40,000 car. Nice... Michael is lucky he's autistic. Otherwise, he'd be getting a beating when my dad gets home. But I talked to the guy and he said he'd refund the deposit if I just left him some positive feedback, which I just did. While I was on my brother's account, I noticed that he had bids out on 4 other cars. And a $9,000 CD changer.

Goodness.

These are the dangers of teaching kids about finances using monopoly money. They have no concept of the true value of money.

Brian is out of town tonight but no anonymous sex for me. I'm on hour 11am-12pm of 24 (Season 1). I've been watching those dvds for DAYS and I'm not even halfway through.

I'm reading Bridget Jones's Diary. It's really funny. I was actually reading it at Starbuck's last night, but was so tired, I kept falling asleep. But then whenever a customer would laugh or say something loudly at the counter, I would suddenly looking up at them, really alertly and wide-eyed like I was intrigued by their conversation, trying to pretend I wasn't asleep. The same way you do at school (or, um...work) when you're trying to look up enough or shift around enough to look like you're awake and reading so you don't get into trouble. But every time I did that, I would remember that no one gives a fuck if I'm asleep because I'm not in school (or, um...work). But the funny thing was that the guy sitting next to me must have thought I was awake because every time I looked up, he would try to engage me in conversation. And I would just stare at him blankly because my brain was still asleep. This little program was just what my body has been trained to do, since I'm a pro at falling asleep in places without getting caught.

In other news, my brother has apparently bought a car on Ebay. My mom noticed a paypal charge of $1000 on her credit card last week and mentioned it to me when she picked me up from the airport. I told her that paypal is like a wire transfer and we figured out that it must have been Michael. We questioned him and he said he bought a Mercedes on Ebay. We were like, "A toy or a real car?" A real car, he says. Holy fuck.

I told my mom to prosecute my brother for fraud. Just to scare him. Because he's got all of our credit card numbers memorized and he's always using them to buy random things on the internet.

I'm so glad to be home. Not that I wasn't glad to be with my family up north. But there's something to be said about being back in your own place. Emphasis on the "own."

I know it wasn't as bad as I feel it was, but I feel really crappy for some of the things I was saying over the weekend. I guess I've been very frustrated with the way my body feels, and I've been saying things that make my family worry. Especially my mom, when she is already feeling very lonely these days. She said to me today, "You always say how scared you are of losing me someday, but don't you ever think that I'm also scared of losing you?" And I know I worry my brother when I get really moody and dark. Pain makes you frustrated which makes you desperate which makes you unable to be present for the people who care about you most. And I think I'm frustrated because writing/creativity has always been my outlet but for some reason, that part of me is broken right now and it's driving me crazy. So I don't know what to do and I'm starting to feel desperate. Worried that things won't get better. I'm just trying to relax and breathe and ride this out. But sometimes I wish I could be more emotionally available to the people who love me the most when I get like this. I get so distant. It makes me feel like a monster when I breakdown and can't control myself. The way I disappear. The way my heart goes numb when my edges get sharp. Edward Scissorhands. You cut the very ones you want to love the most. Just by being you. So you make them stay away for their own good. But that hurts them anyway.

You just can't win.

Right now is not a good time to get too close to me. Not until I figure all this out. There's got to be a way out of this corner. Just give me some time and space...I'm trying to figure this out so we can all get out of this alive. But that's the funny thing about life, isn't it? No one gets out alive.

I picked up an album by Ambulance LTD. You guys should check them out. Kind of retro pop/rock. Very indie fun. Like something from a Wes Anderson film soundtrack. I love the 3rd song, Anecdote. Very, very cool. #7 (Sugar Pill) is how I feel.

I also finished Survivor, and it talks a lot about the things I've been thinking about lately. Synchronicity. I have a knack for picking up a book and it turns out to deal with exactly the themes I'm currently thinking about. I also read Naked Pictures of Famous People, which is a collection of essays by Jon Stewart. It was okay. I didn't really think it was that funny.

Maybe all this is just projection. Maybe I'm really mad at myself right now. Maybe that's why I've suddenly gone cold and am pushing people away. Punishing the people who try to get too close as a way of punishing myself? But why would I be so angry with myself right now?

Saturday Night Ramblings

An artist without inspiration, may as well be dead.

I'm so damn cranky tonight. My back flared up today and that can always trigger me to be extremely irritable because I'm scared the rest of my life will be like this, dealing with this pain (its this intense pain that shoots from my glute to my ankle and I can't bend over without it being excruciating). You really don't think about how physical discomfort can affect your general mood and happiness level, but I think it really does, especially if it becomes a life constant. A coworker made a comment earlier this week that really bugged me...he said that when he first met me last year, I was really focused on things. Life. Very driven. And now, it seems like I just don't really care about anything anymore. I've checked out. And I just sighed, agreed and said, I've lost my will to live. I think I surprised both of us with that statement. I hadn't realized it. But hearing myself say it, I realized it was true. Now before you guys start calling up hotlines to report me, I'll say very honestly--I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. It's just a feeling of not really looking forward to things anymore, because I know that tomorrow morning, I'll wake up and that pain will be there, as it was yesterday and the day before. There hasn't been a single moment in over a year when I was painfree, and I realized last week, that I can't even remember what it felt like to not be in some level of pain. And God, that's really depressing. Sometimes I think about the limits of the human body, and I get angry. I think that's why I fetishize robots. I wish there were robot parts that could replace my malfunctioning ones and fix me. Regardless of all the things I fear though, I still hold out hope that this will get better. I'm too young and strong to be stuck like this.

In other news, my senseless cousin is dating a complete loser. In his 20's (she was 17 when they met). No job, doesn't go to school, deals cards at his aunt's illegal gambling house or something and posts crass comments about my cousin on his website. She sees it and somehow, thinks it's cute. Yeah, she'll grow out of it, the relationship will inevitably come to an end, but it still sucks. My cousin Bohr and I were waiting for her to show up to this dinner party thing tonight because we wanted to have a talk with her, but she didn't show up. We've already had a "talk" with the boyfriend on the phone, inviting him out for "ice cream" so we could all get to know each other. Obviously, he was too chicken to come. Perhaps the jokes of breaking his legs didn't help? (I'm just kidding. But seriously, if he messes with my cousin, we do have baseball bats). Bohr was saying that things like this make him hope he doesn't have daughters. I've always secretly hoped that I never have daughters. So much to worry about.

(ps--my mom is now singing Cher on karaoke right now. "Do you believe in life after love?")

On the way home from the dinner party tonight, I was thinking about how a friend used to tell me that if she could get God to send me a soulmate, she would do anything for him to send me a guy who would make me happy. I thought about how, every time she said that, I would appreciate the intentions but I would get really sad because it made me feel like she didn't have any idea who I was. That having a lover, such a superficial thing, would fulfill me. Because I don't search the world for a lover. I search the world for a mentor--someone who can help enlighten me and teach me, who can lead me. So that I can shake this feeling of always being lost.

Sometimes when people want you in their life, the love they give you is conditional. They want you there in a certain way, on certain terms, and sometimes, those are terms that you just aren't capable of. And that's the worst thing. When they don't realize their feelings are conditional.

My brother has been tense all week because our dad is in China playing basketball, and Michael has been down about his being away and not calling. I think my dad needed a break from certain stressors in his life. But it sucks when my brother doesn't understand that when my dad turns his back on him, it's not because of him. Hell, I understand but it doesn't make a hell of a lot of emotional sense to me either.

(My mom is now singing that Barbie song by Aqua, I think. "I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world." Deep breath, Julia. It's gonna be okay.)

So I’ve spent 3 days and 2 nights at home and things are still tolerable, despite the fact that my mom is currently yowling Bryan Adams on our karaoke machine. I, myself, have entertained her with a brooding version of Superstar by the Carpenters before escaping to where I’m most comfortable…in front of a computer.

I went to see The Grudge tonight with Julius, a brilliant illustrator trying to get into animation, and my brother. My brother really wanted to go with us even though he handles horror movies even more poorly than I do. The movie was terrible—it seemed like the director was more focused on what to do that would scare an audience held captive in a theater, rather than what would make sense of the plot. Lots of creepy things jumping out at you. Luckily, there were plenty of vocal African American women in the audience (you know the type) and so their quips gave us plenty to laugh at. In fact, the whole theater was Mystery Science Theatering the movie so it was fun.

When the end credits began rolling, I asked Michael if he was okay. He said yeah, but then bolted out of his seat and out of the theater, like someone about to puke. I think he was really freaked out. I felt bad. Michael wants to follow me everywhere, and sometimes he’ll end up going to places that he hates.

I’ve been going to the gym and playing basketball. Played a five-on-five game the day before Thanksgiving and it was hell because I’ve got this sprained ankle and the back issue and I haven’t run in over 6 months. But I tried and my moves were slow (my crossover was pathetic. and painful!). My line? 1-3, 1 rebound, 1 assist, 1 steal, 1 turnover. Pretty weak. But my guy went scoreless so that was good. I was always a great defensive player. Loved playing defense. No baskets ever scored on me by my defense assignments during the one season I was healthy enough to play in high school. But I also fouled a lot. And was regarded as a mean player and hated around the league. But I didn’t care. I did my job.

Which speaking of, I kind of understand where Ron Artest comes from (read this article). On the court, you’re intense when it’s all you’ve got. When this game is the only outlet you have for all your anger, all that is wrong in your life. And all you care about, is to feel like you’re good at something, for something. And here you are, the only place where you can dominate, when outside, the world makes you its bitch. So you make up in heart and desire on the court, what gets beaten out of you off of it. Yeah, a lot of coaches could tell I had a lot of anger. But I got things done. Gave 110% at all times and demanded that the people around me did as well. It was heart that won games, no matter the level of talent. And I scared the fuck out of the other teams because I was strong and aggressive and played every minute of every game like it was life or death.

Speaking of anger, Mike, the ugliest guy I’ve ever dated (both inside and out), said once that he was afraid to have kids…he was afraid he’d beat them. And I said something noncommittal like, “Oh…no…you…probably wouldn’t” when I was actually thinking, “Dude, I hope you never have kids.” He was a textbook abusive, borderline personality. A terrible human being, even though I was always encouraging him, telling him he was a good person in hopes that he would be able to see himself that way and work towards it. I was hoping he would break the cycle so he didn’t fuck up other people on his path towards self-destruction. It was worth a try, as fruitless and frustrating as it was. Are there are lot of abusive people out there in the world? Or do I just have a propensity for coming into contact with them? Just want to break that cycle…too many innocent kids are getting fucked up in this world.

Things have been heavy lately and I’m just trying to ride this period out. November is always the worst month of the year for me. It’s like being dunked underwater. Completely dark and suffocating. And you just have to hold your breath long enough until it’s okay to resurface.

Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. And yeah, it’s such a cliché, but clichés exist because they’re true. Sometimes it’s about risk management. If you can see clearly enough, you look ahead and predict different outcomes of situations, and then you work towards the one that is better, with less consequences and more benefits. Sometimes there are no benefits and you have to go towards the one with the mildest consequences. Whitney is always saying that happiness is the most amount of pleasure with the least amount of pain. And if you think about it, if something gives you a great amount of pleasure along with a great amount of pain, by the Whitney Meter, it comes out to zero. Whereas, if something gives you a moderate amount of pleasure, with a smidgeon of pain, then it’s like a +1.8* (measurement is an approximation. ;). And by quantifying it, you can see that it is actually better for you. Anyway, math aside, I just want my life to be clean right now. Quiet.

Being home, in our haunted house. It’s funny, neither my brother nor I will sleep in the guest room. I told you guys before, there’s something wrong with the energy of that room. I’ll either sleep with my mom in her bed, or in my brother’s bed and he’ll sleep on the floor, but no matter what, no one is willing to rotate over to the guest room. It’s always noticeably colder and draftier in that room, even though there’s no logical reason for it. I used to lock myself in that closet in the dark to punish myself when I was a kid. Trying to toughen myself up by putting myself in the scariest place/situation imaginable. Whenever I thought I was weak, because I hated myself when I was weak. Made myself learn to detach from fear. Now in hindsight, I don’t know if that was a fucked up, sadomasochistic thing to do, or something that ended up making me stronger in the long run. I really do think that no one can be crueler to you than you can be to yourself. And no one can mistreat you unless you give them permission. Unfortunately, we so often give people permission to mistreat us, without realizing it. Ah...we must all be careful of our own unconscious agendas.

Okay, it’s now 2:51 am. Time for bed.

Happy luring-the-red-man-into-a-false-sense-of-security-before-we-poison-them-with-moonshine-infect-them-with-smallpox-and-rip-off-their-land-for-beads Day!

I've got the turkey in the oven, the praline yams are a'bubblin'. Today's menu features:

South Pacific Turkey Sliders on a Bed of Arugula
Roasted Thyme Turkey

Honey Glazed Ham
Eddie's Famous Green Bean Casserole (secret ingredients: ground turkey and tator tots)
Praline Yams
Garlic Parmesan Mash Potatoes
Cornbread Stuffing

Cranberry Walnut Chutney
Pecan Pie
Pumpkin Pie

...all made from scratch by myself from early this morning. I'm exhausted.

If anyone is in or around Fremont, drop on by tomorrow because we're gonna have crazy amounts of leftovers.

Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!

I'm watching the Warriors game, and it's a tense 4th quarter in which they're completely blowing the game after building up a nice lead. So the situation is serious, the game is almost over and it looks like the Hornets are about to tie or win the game. The players set up, Warriors possession, and Mike Dunleavy Jr. goes to inbound the ball. The station cutting together shots of players, looking intense, from different angles, building the drama. And then the announcer says, kind of amazed, "Thunder just knocked over Dunleavy. The MASCOT just knocked over Dunleavy."

And they quickly cut to a wide angle of the players, and you see Thunder strutting away, playing to the crowd, and Mike wobbling a little bit and looking around like, "What the fuck? Did that really just happen?"

I wish the camera had been on that scene when it happened, rather than just catching the tail end of it. I thought that really exemplified the conflicts of nature within professional sports. On one hand, the athletes take it so incredibly seriously. There's a lot of ego involved. These tense moments on the court that mean the difference between winning and losing may as well mean the difference beween life and death. They're here to do a job; a delicate job--squeaking out a win--that requires almost godly focus and discipline.

And then there are the fans who came not so much to watch exceptionally skilled athletes as to have the all-inclusive wild night out, who merge into a rowdy crowd and demand to be entertained, who dance like morons to be on the Jumbotron, whose life missions at that very moment is to catch a rolled up t-shirts shot from a cannon...as watch the Mascot run around being goofy like a hyperactive village idiot. No offense to village idiots everywhere.

How can the players work under this condition?

Yeah, they get paid millions to do it. Deal with this circus around what they have dedicated their lives to. But it really takes away from the gravity of their abilities, doesn't it? Like, I think thundersticks should be banned at basketball games. I know the teams will hand them out for free to people sitting behind the visitor's basket. It was some marketing genius' idea of making the fans feel more involved in the outcome of the games. If they make enough noise, they affect the other teams ability to score and thus, contributing to a win or loss. And yes, one could argue that a good player should be so focused, that even the distraction and noise of thundersticks won't distract him. But honestly, I'm not a purest, but if I were a basketball player and had to deal with that noise and distraction every time I was trying to gather myself into a tiny pinpoint of focus, repetitively every few days for months on end, my nerves would be shot. I would have a very short fuse. It'd be really easy for me to snap, in just a heated enough moment.

I mean, you remember Ace Ventura, right? "Laces out" ? Dude, I'm telling you. This is a very, very serious matter.

NBA not banning thundersticks during games= Athletes snapping = Sean Young strapping her penis between her legs.

Check my math. I think you'll find that I'm not wrong.

So I can't keep straight anymore which people know I can read tarot cards and which don't. This is a facet of the mystical side of me that I am very, very private about and very protective of, for fear of persecution and ridicule as much as to keep this ability private because I don't want people who don't really need it demanding my help (if I want to read for people or feel like I have something to tell them, I'll offer. Because when I read for people, it's not akin to a magic trick for purposes of entertainment. It's a draining process of digging deep inside someone's psyche/soul and bringing out hidden pain as part of a healing process). But I've always loved the artwork of the cards and wanted to share it, though I let very few people close to my deck. So considering I've been working at a scanner company for over a year now, I just figured out that I can scan them and post them so you can see some of my favorite cards. These cards are some of my most personal and private belongings, so be nice, okay?

This card represents me...Air behaving as Fire. Courageous, impulsive, stormy--the slayer of darkness and invisible demons. I absolutely *love* this card.

This is, artistically, my favorite card in the deck. I've stared at it for hours before, absorbing its details, the concept of unity despite polarity. Disparity creating unity. Tension creating balance.The blind cupid, the omnipotent, faceless father. ..this card never ceases to intrigue me. It's also the Gemini card.

The Tower. This card shows a building crumbling and on fire as people fall out of it. A little story about this card...in August 2001, I was in the bay area visiting my family and we had a small get together with my extended family. At the party, my mom convinced me to read for people. I am most comfortable with reading 2-3 weeks ahead because free will often changes outcomes, so the further away a time frame is, statistically, the less possible it is to be accurate because of the amount of free will that can modify a person's course during every second. So I read for a bunch of people, and this card came up in everyone's readings. In hindsight of 9/11, that was freaky. But that's exactly the kind of thing this card represents. This card comes up when someone has tried to build a house on a bad foundation. They've repressed problems, ignored them, yet they go on with their lives like nothing's wrong (like all the tension that had been covered up by our government's foreign policies. And then the Tower makes the situation blow wide open, forcing things to be dealt with). But those buried issues rot away at the foundation until a huge, terrible event happens that crumbles everything that person had been trying to build. You never want this card to show up. It means you're going to have a devastating experience that will completely shake up your world, forcing you to deal with the things you're trying to run away from. You will be so much better off in the long run, but in general, you should be taking care of things in all hopes to avoid the types of events represented by this card. It'll be things like, a person running away from emotional issues and burying themselves in their work. The tower comes along and blows things wide open...a relative dies, a relationship ends painfully, the person is laid off, so that they can no longer hide their head in a hole and are forced to deal with something. In the end, the Tower is a good thing. But it's the disciplinarian. You usually want to be conscious of your issues and deal with them as much as possible to avoid this type of event. This is the explosion. It's like when the doctor has to break your legs again, so that they can set correctly and you can grow. But it is always, always very difficult. I always get very worried when I see this card and emphatic with the person that they have to deal with something. Unfortunately, usually, when people have been avoiding issues and hiding them for so long, they're set in their minds not to deal with those things. Until something forces them to.

This card I see a lot, too. Two swords being bent by a third. Interference. Dark, stormy emotions. Intense pain.

It's the threesome card--two in a relationship, one on the side, all connections very very intense. In other words, the "affair" card. But it's more complex than that. Because love and human relationships is very complex. Sometimes it can mean that someone is unhappy in their current relationship and has strong, secret feelings for someone else, not necessarily acted upon. But depending on the impressions and feelings I get along with this card for the particular person I'm reading for, it almost always comes down to one of two questions: "Were you cheated on?" "You're in love with someone else, aren't you?" This is one card I can specifically pick up a lot of energy and impressions on pretty easily. Because if it comes up, the pain is usually pretty great and pressing within that person in regards to a certain love situation.

And this...is my future life partner. Stable, kind. A fair leader. Earth behaving as Water. The soulmate I get to walk a large part of my journey with. He has always come up consistently for years. I really can't explain to you how all this works, but his energy drops in on me sometimes, whoever he is.

All I've gotta say is:

Sho-ya Wang.

Another quote from Survivor. This one is talking about psychic ability:

You can tell people the truth, but they'll never believe you until the event. Until it's too late. In the meantime, the truth will just piss them off and get you in a lot of trouble. So you just walk home.

It's true. You spend more time trying to prove to people that you know what you talk about, trying to get them to trust you, than just telling them that they're heading towards something they may not want to collide head-on with. But often, they continue down the path just to prove you right/wrong. Or you tell them something they don't want to hear and resent you for it.

I do that too sometimes. Ignore what I see. The messages from places coming from I don't know where. Because I don't want to trust them. That we can really see things. That we can really get messages. That those who can see have certain responsibilities. But the worst things in my life happen during the times I ignore those messages.

Ignorance really is bliss.

She's a doctor in "biological sciences." With a name like that, you will want to make an appointment ASAP.

And meanwhile, my mom works with Anita Wang, Harry Tang and Hung Chung (aka "Mike).

Asian names are fucked up.

Final Words...

It's 12:32am. Officially Monday. This weekend was a good one. I am almost ready to come out of my cave. I am finally finding my life again, able to get my radar in tune to the quirky little corners of life and follow the signals, towards hopefully, weird and wonderful anecdotes to share with you all.

I wish I could stay up all night and finish watching the first season of 24 (I'm at 4am-5am. Or, Episode 5). That Jamey chick looks like a drag queen. Reminded me of this Asian girl I worked with last year. I also started Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk who also wrote Fight Club. I'll share the two passages I like so far:

"To stand here and try to fix her life is just a big waste of time. People don't want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas. Their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown."

I liked those lines because earlier today, I made a resolution to avoid as much needless drama in my life as possible. I have a tendency to attract drama. A lot of times, it's because I'm willing to listen to people, to be compassionate. I get drawn into the intimate details of other people's lives quite consistently. And while I learn a lot and become wiser with each interaction in terms of my own life and human existence in general, often times, those traits get me into situations I absolutely shouldn't be in. I'm a magnet for all kinds of weird situations. Just ask my friend Matt, who I stopped talking to for a couple of years because I heard through the grapevine after that really bad situation with the evil ex, that he was at a party telling people that I had gotten myself into a crazy situation again. "As usual." [And then I called him on it and he was embarrassed and apologized and said he would call me later and make it up to me, but then he never, ever, ever contacted me again for years. Until I finally ran into him. Coward. But that's in the past since we're talking again.]

I think drama was what we did when we were younger, because being young can be boring sometimes when you're waiting for life to happen. So you have to fill it up with some excitement. We would go out looking for it, drumming it up, jumping into it, getting sucked into it, whatever.
And it was fun for a while, like playing with firecrackers--dangerous yet exciting until it killed our senses and we get tired of it.

But the older I get, the less I want to go near it. I think I figured out why Geminis don't like to get close to people. Why we're so mentally/emotionally detached. Because everyone knows we're high strung. We have issues with anxiety. We're the chronic worriers. And when you get too close to other people, as is required in order to have human relationships, emotional intensity is sometimes directly correlated with emotional drama. And high intensity (close emotional proximity) means risking the dangers of being too close to the furious fires of emotional drama. And when a Gemini gets a worrisome thought in his or her head, trust me...it will consume that person, whether the people around them realize it or not.

Usually people can't tell. I'm always "fine" and friendly. Only those closest to me know just how obsessively I can worry. And I don't know if even they know to exactly what extent I can obsess over nagging thoughts. Drama makes me physically sick. Because first I worry about the littlest things, from if a comment might have hurt someone's feelings to if a friend is in an unhappy situation. And this thought is a constant throughout the day(s). If it's not at the forefront of my mind, then it's on a shelf where I can see it from whatever thought I'm currently thinking. Sometimes, the worries even take the place of thoughts about sex (God forbid!), which, if I have no drama in my life, I'm usually thinking about constantly. And then my stomach is constantly wound up, I'm nervous and jumpy, I have a constant tension right behind my eyes that I can't seem to shake, and sleep becomes something my body forgets how to do. Once this process has started, it is very, very difficult to disarm. Unfortunate but true.

So I try to keep my life "clean," avoiding people who are co-dependent and want more out of a generous person than is reasonable, and trying to recognize people who want to play out negative cycles, and give them a WIDE berth. But the only problem is, my idealism makes me think that if I see a problem, I need to fix it. I see someone who's unhappy and I want to solve it. As Sarita says, I like to pick up three-legged kittens, even though I don't really want a kitten, but I'm afraid that if I don't do it, that kitten will never have a home. And before long, I'm some old lady with a ramshackle mobile home that always smells funky because it's filled with cats (disfigured cats, no less!), and I only venture out in public to pick up cat food, carpet cleaner and last week's National Enquirer at the 99 cent store, always wearing the same purple mumu and that filthy chewed up straw hat with piss stains on the brim. Not pretty, I tell ya.

But since life has it's ups and downs and its natural occurrences of drama, usually it's fine. Most people just want someone to listen to them, to feel like they are being heard, and to maybe get an objective opinion and to be able to see their situation from a different angle. But sometimes, when you get into the oppressive and tenacious whirlpool of people who thrive on drama, require drama, invite drama and use drama to keep you in their lives, that's a really bad situation. Completely draining.

I think I'm jaded these days. I've met so many people who have kept me around because they wanted me to play out something unhealthy with them, and who created drama just to keep me in their lives and bat me around, that I'm so wary of almost everything that is dramatic. How can you tell if a person is really someone in need? Or if the person is just pretending they're drowning so that when you reach out to help them, they pull you in because they're intent on drowning, but they don't want to do it alone?

I said it a long time ago. "The devil likes to play a drowning man." Be careful.

I think the difference is what you do with the people in your lives. I know I've had my share of drama in my life. I know that I'm not completely blameless in some of them. But these days, I've done a lot of soul searching and have gotten better at recognizing things that shouldn't be in my life, that will create needless drama and endless suffering on my end (endless because someone who craves drama will NEVER be the one to let go of the person whose presence helps them whip it up). And it all comes down to: Set reasonable boundaries, and STAND by them.

When a person is truly in need, they ask for your support, and you let them lean on you so they can heal or figure out the situation. But at the end of the day, they want their suffering relieved. They want the issue in their life resolved. I'm all about being supportive of that person. Because this is healthy. But then there are the people who don't really want the things resolved, even though they say they do, or they honestly think they do. So often, drama is so engrained in these people, that they can't imagine a life without drama, so they cling to it, and will whip up more if they feel the current level of drama in their lives is being threatened. STAY AWAY FROM THESE PEOPLE.

These are the people I was afraid of when I wanted to go into a career of clinical therapy. I've got a woman's intuition and empathy, but a man's mind. I'm logical. I'm solution-oriented. And I go nuts when I give people advice and it becomes clear they don't really want to solve the problem and are just making me go through the motions for attention. There are a lot of people who go to therapy and it's like emotional masturbation. They get to outlet about their misery, wallow in it, and the therapist is the audience. And they want to do it over and over and over again because it feels good. Masochistically good. And when you don't want to feed this cycle anymore, they get upset with you, acting like you're abandoning them. But they would never want to solve the problem so they could end the misery. It would mean not getting to emotionally masturbate anymore. I mean, if you were told that once you achieve an orgasm, your sex organs shut down and you would never feel anything down there again, wouldn't YOU avoid having an orgasm at all costs? Most def. You would FIGHT against that orgasm so that you could keep masturbating and never have it end.

Anyway, now I'm talking about masturbating and I sense that I have severely digressed.

I'm just saying, Survivor is a good book, drama makes me sick and depressed, and I don't want any more three-legged, one-eyed kittens.

Second passage from the book:

"To calm this girl down, to get her to listen, I tell her the story about my fish. This is fish number six hundred and forty-one in a lifetime of goldfish. My parents bought me the first one to teach me about loving and caring for another living breathing creature of God. Six hundred and forty fish later, the only thing I know is everything you love will die. The first time you meet that someone special, you can count on them one day being dead and in the ground."

Yeah, of course I would like this passage. I was talking about this in September, I think. About, how people have to realize that the statement, "I would never hurt you" is always false and misleading, because they will hurt the ones who care about them, just by being human. People you love will eventually hurt you, guaranteed. Because they die. You'll care about them and best case scenario is that they're awesome and bring all kinds of rays of sunshine into your life...................before they DIE. And that's tragic.

I have trust issues with God.

My first day of being cleared to play basketball, I sprain my ankle playing a game of 21. DAMN.

Play M*A*S*H online!

I found out that I'm going to marry Ben Wallace, drive a red Audi, have 1 kid, and live in a shack in Fremont where my job is being depressed.

Excellent!

I walked up the entrance of the restaurant where we had ordered takeout. As I approached the door, I noticed a recently purchased, maroon Hummer pull up to the curb. I paused in my entrance into the restaurant, wanting to see who the driver was, this person who could afford such a nice car. It was a middle-aged man who looked like some Ivy-League schooled CEO of a software company, who also happened to look mildly familiar. The takeout wasn't ready so I waited. Finally, they called my name and I took my bag of food and headed towards the door. I walked by the Hummer's driver who was having dinner with his wife and three angelic daughters. And then it hit me. Where I had seen him before.

"Hey kids! I saw your daddy at a sex club downtown fucking a more slender woman who most definitely wasn't your mommy!"

No. I would never do that. Not in this town.

Today I went to the Clippers/Rockets game with Brian. I had bought these tickets in a package deal several months ago, so I had forgotten exactly when the game was. I had just came home from physical therapy in the morning and was running out the door to Sarita's to hang out and watch the Michigan game, when I went to print out my tickets and found out that they were for 12:30pm. It was 12:22. DAMN. So I grabbed Brian who was trying to eat a slice of banana covered with peanut butter and told him we were going to have a boys afternoon out and go to a Clippers game. RIGHT NOW.

We got there at halftime and found our seats. We were sandwiched between these 20 year-old Asian kids and this black family. I was immediately a little bit irritated about having to sit next to a whiney Asian girl and her high-pitched voice throughout the game, and by the fact that there was a pile of nachos on the floor in front of my seat that the guy sitting next to me on the other side needed to move.

So we sit down and Brian and I are trying to pick which team we were going to root for. He reasons, he works on Tmac campaigns so he should root for Houston, but Marko Jaric of the Clippers is his boyfriend. I told him he should root for Houston because I had Bobby Simmons on my fantasy team today so I would be rooting for him, and that way, we could root for opposite teams and get really heated and into it like men at ballgames. (I later realized that Brian should obviously root for Houston because he's freakin' FROM Houston).

So I'm telling Brian little facts and statistics about the game and players, as I'm prone to do. (note: I've spent so much time around my brother, that my first instinct when I'm in a situation where I think of a fact or explanation that someone I'm with may not know, is to share that knowledge with them. It makes me an obsessive trivia quoting dork). So I'm telling him things like, "Elton Brand has a size 17 shoe." "Marko Jaric is a Libra." "Yao Ming has a strong lower body but a disproportionately slender upper body, making him look like a T-Rex when he runs." "My PT told me Elton Brand told him that Chris Kaman is a virgin and that's where he gets all of his power." And then I notice the guy next to me keeps laughing every time I say something.

So I sneak a glance at him and see that he's a young, black guy with creamy, caramel skin, and these dark, curled eyelashes around warm brown eyes. Wow. I wanted to kiss him right there. Other furtive reconnaissance glances revealed that he was attending the game with his mother and another maternal female figure. Who was holding this adorable, stuffed Clippers Rally Monkey. I thought he was the cutest thing.

The next big play, I softly quipped as if to myself, "Why are they double-teaming Bobby Simmons?" (note: Bobby is not such a good player that teams need to put two defenders on him, like on a Kobe or a Garnett). I heard him laugh and agree. After a few moments of silence, I figure this exchange is over. But then he said, to seemingly no one in particular, "It's not like he's Tracy McGrady." I laughed. I knew he was talking to me.

Throughout the game, he and I would trade comments on the game without ever really looking at each other. After I went nuts for Bobby Simmons free-throw, he finally looks at me and asks, "Do you play fantasy or something?"

I said, "Yeah. I've got Bobby on my team for this game."

He laughed and said, "That's an unusual choice."

I said, "Well, I needed field goal % and free throw %, and Bobby has great field goal percentage and shoots over 90 percent in free throws because he's only missed one free throw this season."

He pauses, not knowing what to say, then laughs saying, "Well, he's doing great for you today."

I asked him, "Do you play fantasy basketball?"
(thinking...well I should probably be up front...I'm a big dork.)

"No," he said, then softly added, "Just um, fantasy golf."

(superdorksoftheuniverse UNITE! Excellent.)

And then, throughout the game, he did the sweetest thing--he would cheer with me whenever Bobby did anything good or was at the line shooting free throws (note to non basketball-game attenders: Free throws are not a very exciting aspect of the game, so people don't usually get excited).

(also note: at one point in the final quarter, he stood up to cheer, and you can bet I checked out his ass. I'm not very knowledgeable on how to judge asses since I'm more of a leg/back/arm girl myself, but his ass was definitely appealing.)

I started wanting to figure out a way to be able to maintain some sort of contact with him once our shared experience of this basketball game was through...ask him for his number? Lean over and whisper into his ear, "I think you're the cutest thing I've seen in a long time." ? Psychically give him the Jedi mind trick to make him ask me for my number?

But then his phone rang. He was engaged in a conversation with someone about where to find something in what sounded like a bedroom. I was pretending that I wasn't listening, but I couldn't help but listen, and he was pretending that he didn't know that I was pretending not to listen. In terms of the conversation, I deduced that when he said, "it's by my TV," it would not be a woman he's living with on the phone because I doubted there would be a "my" tv and a "your" tv. Also, he didn't say any form of closing comments to end the call. He just snapped off the phone. And no girl will ever let her boy just turn off the phone when he's done talking without saying a "Bye" or a "Later" a "Love you honey you stupid cunt who's ruining my life." So my robot brain concluded that he was talking to a guy, probably a roommate.

Just as I figured it was all clear, that as far as I knew, he was still a single guy, his mom asked him, "Was that Kim?" Doh! He quickly said, "Uh no, that was um, Trey."

maybe she said "Kiiiiieeeen" like "Ken." Not like girlfriend Kim. But like boyfriend Ken.

Shut up robot brain. That man has a girlfriend.

So at the end of the game, Brian and I are leaving with 13.4 seconds to go on the game clock. We step down to the row in front of us, and I look up at the guy sitting next to me...finally get a look his face in its entirety. And....he was a trainwreck. Baby-was-born-ass-first ugly.

No, I'm just kidding. He was really cute. Baby-face, very sweet smile, looked like your classic nice guy. Such a warmth about him.

I tell him to have fun and walk to the end of the aisle. I look back and see he's still looking at me, smiling at me. I smile and turn away. I look back and he's talking to his mom, but he catches my glance and we share another smile.

It really takes very little for me to be happy sometimes. Just having a nice, gentle, pleasant connection with someone, for just a short time, is really nice sometimes. It's a warm feeling, like having laid out in a field all day, on a warm, sunny afternoon.

Where's my basketball-loving boy next door with the radiant smile? I'm still waiting for you to cuddle with me.

the big questions

does secretly keeping an eye on me
make the hungriness go away?
does knowing about my insides
answer all of your questions?

does it quiet the noises in your head
that keep you up at night?
or do they pounce when you break the surface
of each waking repetitive day?

have you ever heard the night confessing
sharing its deathbed regrets?
does it throw a volatile little-boy tantrum
when you ever so politely decline?

would it surprise you to look inside a well
and meet a familiar pair of eyes?
will the shock of the unexpected
make it any less of a hole in the ground?

do you worry about all that is lost out at sea
hoarded in its folds so they never return to shore?
do you secretly believe maybe all of those things
are perhaps not so unlucky at all?

do you cry while watching the daily news
because you never learned how to cry for yourself?
or do you automatically fast forward all the way through
so all that is left is the weather?

can you remember the last time the sun
warmed your face
without needing you to draw it into the sky
with a child's set of washable markers?

do you really believe any answer exists
before it has been discovered?

there is nothing more desolate
than the littered fairgrounds
the morning after the anima of the passing carnival
has been inhaled into the tenacious clay of the night
the faint impressions
and incomplete clues of renounced belongings
all that remain of what once may have existed
(or perhaps
had been dreamed all along)

and no good place to start making any sense of it all
except for a beginning without a beginning
and a persistent feeling of something unresolved
that just.
won't.
leave you alone.

and then there's that famous story about
that magnanimous guy
who thought he could keep all his little ones safe
if he bound them by their shoes to the earth

but he neglected to calculate the possibility
that nobody likes hanging upside down for
damn near the entirety of their lives.

and that's where the story left off...

if i told you the world would end today
would it be enough to move you to find me?
or is it never the time to seize the courage
to just ask the questions
you don't really want to have answered?

(well if you want to know
i could tell you now
but you're just gonna call me a liar)


it's gravity, baby.

the answer to all questions.

there's nothing here but
plain
old
simple
gravity.

and whole lotta old folks
waxing nostalgia
languidly rocking in homemade porch swings
that never seem to figure out how to stop creaking.

If I emailed someone the html code for my template, will you tell me how to adjust the margins of my text??? I need it wider. It screws things up all the time, especially when I write poetry.

Why does Kenyon look like that lovable "special" kid we all knew in grade school in this picture? "Kenyon like paint!" Well, yeah, Kenyon, I like paint too!

...but I have such a crush on Brad. With the head band and that soft brown hair that you just want to run your fingers through, that down to earth, soft spoken good ol' boy manner. And that tough guy demeanor with such a soft touch, a shot like butter...Jesus. I go nuts watching him.

Naked

It suddenly hit me today.

My blog is an extension of me. It's my way of tentatively testing the world to see how it reacts to a "real me," which is secretly a milder, simulated me, before I risk my true self in the world outside. Just trying to learn how to feel safe and not be afraid of the world.

I guess all this time, in terms of all the people I've never met who comment, I've never really been able to visualize you as real people, having entire beautiful, dimensional universes of your own. That was just too overwhelming for me. You were almost like abstract people, almost voices in my head, characters in an imagined reality. Because a life of loneliness is like a life of being always on the run, creating your own reality because you're playing this game all by yourself and if you rest, you might just find out there's nothing there. And deep down, you wonder if it's possible that there might be people who understand you out there. Like life on other planets, you know? You're afraid to hope, but deep down, you would do anything for that to be true.

But to really think about all of you guys as real people, scattered all around this great expanse, who somehow feel connected through my writing by a sense of mutual existence.....wow.

Is it possible?

That there exists true understanding of each soul in this world?

And that in fact, each and every one of us is never alone?

Is it really possible to be able to reach out and touch people, even if in your mind, you can only see them as faceless, shadowed forms yet undoubtedly, kindred spirits?

Life is so amazing. There are so many days that I want to pause, take a moment to just appreciate how amazing and full and vibrant life is. The act of living and being in a world that is living. The feeling is so huge it challenges the notion of infinity. But it feels like the world doesn't allow for that. Our world makes us focus on day to day mundane living, giving us no room to appreciate everything else that makes up life, our universe.

But then the day that someone opens your cage and makes you realize there's a world out there? It changes your life.

We all live in our little cages. The cruelest joke is that we can see how to open the cages of others, but never how to open the cages which have trapped ourselves.

Sometimes I feel like there are two types of people in life. Those who refuse to let go of hope of escape from their own personal cages, and those who resolve to make the best of their caged life, embracing a narrowed vision of the world and convincing themselves that this is all that exists. Sometimes the lines are divided very closely along the division between the logical left brainer and the flighty artistic right brainer. But I'd rather have hope for me. A chance to glimpse what's out there. Of heaven.

Okay, I'm totally streaming tonight. I've been on a strict diet and exercise regime and tonight I let myself have a glass of red wine (for antioxidants!) and here I am. Lightweight drunk. No not really. But that's my excuse if tomorrow morning, I reread this post and find that I've been streaming about inappropriate things again (read: my sex life).

What's it like hanging out with Geminis? I think if you just keep in mind that all these contradicting personalities are really just different expressions of a multi-directional but overall, integrated being, then it's okay.

Hey ex boyfriend who recently got in touch with me. Were you referring to me when you mentioned "stormy women?" Well...I never promised you a rose garden...

Speaking of old memories and my going through life on auto-pilot. When Drew and I were breaking up, I told him a couple of times, "You just can't corral the human heart to where it doesn't want to go." What did I mean? Was I telling him that I didn't love him? Or was I telling him that it was okay to admit that he didn't love me?

Why is it I can have entire conversations with people and say things that seem loaded with subtext, but I'm the only one who doesn't get the subtext? Who the hell is using my mouth???

By the way, I made these turkey patties today with ground turkey, fresh chopped basil, cilantro and mint, bread crumbs, garlic, lime and chili garlic sauce, and they turned out really well.

If you're an old friend of mine who stumbles upon this site, or even if you're someone who's been in my life, even casually, who's hiding in the shadows, drop me a line and say what's up. A lot of old friends have gotten in touch with me by stumbling upon my site so that's been really awesome. I like to hear how people's lives progress past the point in which our lives had connected.

Anyway, I'm off to do something other than sit in front of the computer. Like go into my room and listen to music by candlelight. Yeah, it's what I like to do. Lay off.

No more games, please...you're hurting me.

I was having trouble falling asleep as usual last night so I figured I would watch the rest of Notorious C.H.O. At least keep things light, right? At the end of it, she gets really serious and talks about self-esteem and her eating disorder (s). She talks about how her father enforced this need to be thin, showering her with positive attention when she was thin, and acting like she was invisible when she was fat. That was really, really hard to watch, because as much as comics are all about telling jokes, most of them have just excelled in their defense mechanism of using humor and detachment to deal with a lifetime of pain and perceived rejection. And Margaret's pain while talking about her father was palpable.

This subject struck such a chord for me. Made me so, so very sad. Mothers will nag, but it's that kind of rejection by a father to a daughter based on physical appearance, that can cut the deepest.

My father came from an environment where the very basic things like security and love were withheld. His mother divorced his father and remarried, thus abandoning her children from the first marriage. By all accounts, my dad took it the hardest. He used to go to her house with her new family and meticulously do all of the housekeeping while her kids from the second marriage sat around acting like he was "the help," all in hopes of winning her love. But of course, it didn't work. She's a cold, selfish woman.

So given that upbringing, you would think that he would be mindful of not perpetuating these negative cycles that can hurt a vulnerable child so much. But thus is the nature of bad emotional/psychological cycles...unless you recognize them and go out of your way to fight them, you perpetuate them.

Growing up, for both my brother and I, food became a touchy subject. We were always anxious about eating, because there was always a risk of suffering a cutting comment directed at us about our weight. Food...it was something we needed, yet sometimes, if our dad was in a sadistic mood, all kinds of issues and mind games came into play. Ironic considering he's not exactly skinny himself.

There were always the questions of, "Are you still eating?" "Haven't you had enough?" "You want MORE?!?" Made us feel like pigs if we were hungry.

Sometimes he would bring home food and eat it in front of us without offering. The choice would be...ask him for some, or not. But the risk with asking him for some, would be him saying, "Yeah, keep eating and getting fatter" before giving it to us. But if you were hungry, that was the price you paid. It was often the feeling that he was setting up the situation that way so we, as people dependent on him, would have to beg. So that, as someone who had come from a life of begging for the basics such a mother's love, he would be in the situation of being the one who has the power to give or withhold. Often I wanted to be proud so I didn't ask, going hungry, even though I knew that he knew I wanted it, and was so smug about knowing that he was making me ask for it. Kind of like being homeless but being too proud to beg for money even though you need it to survive. And the smug rich people only giving it to you if you show suitable humility. Fucking bullshit.

My brother and I would sneak food when he wasn't around. Before he came home. After he went to bed. It shouldn't have been a big deal...eating. But it became this covert thing you did, but were ashamed about doing the whole time. It became this thing we were ashamed of, being hungry. Being fat. Being disdained by our father.

I used to hide food in my room, so that if I was hungry, I could have it without getting caught, without having to deal with any comments that would hurt my feelings, hurt my self-esteem. I remember one year, some ants got into my stash and it was a mess. And he went ballistic, about why anyone would keep food in their bedroom. That was a really bad day.

Years later, living out here, I was going to a therapist. We were talking about other issues (if you're Asian, you have all kinds of family issues), and she noticed that I always brought up the issue of food...how conscious I was of eating healthy and of everything I ate, and how self-conscious I was about other people judging what I ate, how much I ate, how often I ate. I told her the story about my dad bringing home food and my being too proud and afraid to ask him for some, even though I was hungry. And I remember, her eyes teared up. Trust me, it's a scary thing when your therapist does that. She told me, "That is so sad." And I got angry, angry at her for saying that. Because anger was my only defense against that slide into the dark well where all those demons and grievances reside. Because I didn't want her to tell me it was sad, I didn't want to feel or understand that it was sad, because once you do, then what? Sad is such a hopeless thing. Vulnerability is such a sad, hopeless thing.

Writing means nothing until it means something to someone else. Emotional defenses of that statement aside, it's expression existing in a vacuum. It's the tree falling in the forest with nothing to experience it except itself. Symbols without the symbolized. But the moment it means something to someone else, the moment it strikes a deep chord within an "other," there within the fabric of that abstract yet deep connection is where the spark that lights the true being of our very existence can be glimpsed.

Sometimes you just want to reach out into that dark unknown and touch someone whose face you don't even recognize yet.

my insomnia has struck again. i'm so tired but i can't get to sleep. i'm so tired but i can't get to sleep. gone from talking to ghosts to being a ghost. but i still have two hours of trying before i get desperate. anyone know of any good stories?

Once a label is on something
It becomes an it
Like it's no longer alive

It's like a loss of vision
Or some dark impression
Or a black spot on your eye

If it's up to you
My little sweet baboo
Through the shouting and the fever
Think of life as queer
Think of it my dear
And some knobs or a fancy tone
From here there is no reason
Baby's got it made
But it's not what the life's about

What is imagination
May become a fact
If we think of it that way
If you want to know
I can tell you now
Oh if you make it through somehow
Or is it best to keep or fall to sleep
It isn't looking very good to me from here

(what new york couples fight about, morcheeba)

this is one of my favorite songs. to listen to alone in the dark at 3am. which is when i'm usually listening to it lately. you can hear it if you click on the link above (then click on the title. it'll take a few minutes to download before automatically playing). i put it up on my site for you to listen to, if you guys have never gotten a taste of morcheeba.

According to Brian, "I'll be in my room watching Margaret Cho and lifting weights" is a really really gay statement.

Check out this site! People send in anonymous confessions. Sometimes hilarious. Sometimes sad. Often bizarre.

By the way, my cousin is a slut. Can I hear an amen?

"Learn to detach...Don't cling to things, because everything is impermanent... But detachment doesn't mean you don't let the experience penetrate you. On the contrary, you let it penetrate fully. That's how you are able to leave it... Take any emotion--love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or what I'm going through, fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions--if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them--you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that love entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, 'All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment.'"
~ Mitch Albom

from Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson

For some reason, I find this picture soothing. Like, I wouldn't mind resting my body there, either.

Is it bad that I'm at work and I keep wanting to drink my Purell Instant Hand Sanitizer? I don't know why but I keep thinking it's my cup of water. Or maybe my subconscious is telling me something.

What is life when you want to quit your job but you know you can't because you would kill yourself financially? It seems like most of the world is in that situation. We miss so much of life this way.

There's a lot of heavy stuff going on in my life lately. When people ask me for advice, ask me to tell them what's going to happen, I get scared sometimes. Because I feel responsible for what happens once I tell them what I see. What is family, anyway? I'm all kinds of worried today.

Weekend Recap

This weekend I passed on a trip to Vegas with my cousins. One of my cousins is getting married in Vegas, doing the shotgun Elvis thing, since they were planning on getting the certificate anyway before having the actual ceremony sometime in the future, so they figured they may as well just do something fun. Now, it seems kind of foolish that I would pass on this trip since my cousins are wild when it comes to partying, despite the fact that they're all married. And since my dad has requested that I not go to clubs by myself, this would have been a great opportunity to hit some dance clubs with a solid, fun crew. Who like the good stuff when it comes to drinking (read: Patron!!) and usually cover the bill.

But then I figured, I spent so much money last month that I should probably take things easy this month. And I'm feeling bad about not really doing that much writing this week. But probably the biggest reason of all, is that I know that this situation has all the makings of me going nuts. The last time I hung out with my cousins resulted in some scandalous pictures and a wild night that, if my cousins have indeed failed me and let it get back to my dad, gives him good reason to think what he thinks about my lifestyle. On one hand, I could try to control myself. On the other hand, the truth is I won't. I do not have a good prudency record when I go out of town. Especially when my cousins serve as my wingmen.

So I passed. And part of me didn't want to. But part of me knew I should.

Sometimes I wish I could be a guy. Only because, society's double standards when it comes to certain things are ridiculous. Completely in favor of men. And it pisses me off and frustrates the hell out of me.

So this weekend was pretty quiet. Just perfect. Went to the gym. Read. Watched basketball. Got a lot of writing done. Went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market this morning. I like to look at people's stuff. Just trying to figure out the stories that they tell about the people they belonged to. Especially old things. You can feel the energy in belongings sometimes.

I picked up some photography prints that were great. What I liked about them, was that the photographer understood loneliness. He captured its essence. And that jived with me. If there's one way to describe me, it would be "Loneliness Personified." I'm drawn to lonely people because it's the frequency of my soul vibration and what I understand. I know how to speak their language, and they welcome me because they can tell I truly understand that deep emptiness that often defies words, but that has such great meaning and purpose. That loneliness feeds my life force. It's something I thrive on, that makes me seek the deeper meanings of things, to understand. Sometimes I feel like forcing companionship on this plane is just a Band-Aid. You never face the fact that by being compartmentalized inside a human body, you are to a degree, disconnected from the group soul, what it is that we all belong to, from which we came and to which we seek to return. And trying to merge with another person is a ritualized act in an effort to fill that existential emptiness by reconnection, though it's the equivalent of life as experienced on a stage with actors and affected emotions versus real life. And we know it. We can't fool ourselves, though we desperately try. It's synthetic. It's artificial. It's ALMOST it. It almost scratches that persistent itch, but not quite. And we don't know why. So we're disappointed. But we don't know why. And then we blame ourselves, our partners, the relationship, this human life that is so unfair. And that attitude, in itself, is unfair.

The problem is absolutely not the need for companionship and support. We all most definitely need that and it is vital to our well-being and our life purposes. But it's when people cling to each other, expect other people to fill that void, to efface that "lack" deep within them, that things become problematic.

Can't we accept that it's not about yourself and other people on this plane, but about your journey? A bigger journey than all that is contained on this little planet, third from the sun? The most dangerous thing about looking for things on this plane to fill that void is that it's so easy to become tragically complacent about our deeper search. To ignore the journey.

I've found myself to be quite reluctant in parting ways with loneliness. I feel like, losing my deep-seated loneliness would be like losing my dark, brooding companion who keeps me safe during the darkest hour of night, who drives me to dive into the deepest parts of people's souls, through their pain and suffering, to bring back the knowledge that would bring them peace. It feels like losing my loneliness would in essence, be losing my life purpose. And I wouldn't be able to live without that.

11/12 Recap -- Breaking Celebrity Gossip!!

Okay, so Brian and I decided to go see Kinsey over at the Century City Mall AMC. We grab some food at the food court and we're talking about how Peter Sarsgaard has full-frontal in this movie. Brian was excited about it and I said, "What if he has an ugly dong?" Brian said, "That would suck if it's ugly." I said, "Well, still, you'd rather see his than Zach Braff's."

So we get into the theater and I was supposed to find seats while Brian got a soda. The theater is filling up quickly so I grab these two seats at the end of the middle row next to a girl and a guy in a baseball cap. The guy looks up as I sit down and it's...Zach Braff. With Mandy Moore.

So I sat next to Mandy and had to endure them touching and stroking each other's hands and legs (and inner thighs). And then the making out. Oh God, the making out. Whitney...if you thought watching Garden State was hard for me, imagine THAT.

The best thing in the world was when the previews started and of course, which preview should come on but the one for Closer ...starring Natalie Portman. Who, for all of you not in the loop, was rumored to be dating Zach after Garden State wrapped. Oh my God, did my evil side want to lean over and say obnoxiously to them, "Ohmigod! This much be like....SOOO awkward for you!!" But of course, it was awkward. Natalie on a stripper's pole, seducing the camera. As Zach had his hand on Mandy's leg and Mandy clung to him.

By the way, Kinsey...good movie. Very funny. Very provocative insights about sex and love. Right up my robot alley.

Transcript of Jon Stewart on Crossfire . Jon goes to battle. The man has amazing things to say. He's brilliant. He's the voice Americans need to be listening to.

Just found a very cool blog. Who Is Sweeter, where the author proposes two people and provides detailed background, and then people debate who is sweeter (or lamer).

Germans Are Cool

Dirk Nowitzki's fingers were shut in a cab door prior to last night's game, when he went off for 41 points and 10 boards.

Dan Dickau got the scare of a lifetime as he was the one who closed the door on Dirk's shooting hand, prompting him to say "'Dude, open the door. My fingers are in there." Dickau was just activated on Thursday and is very lucky Nowitzki's fingers are ok. It could have resulted in the shortest stay on an active roster in history.

"Dude, open the door. My fingers are in there." That's AWESOME.

11/11 Recap

It's getting harder and harder to remember everyone I've ever met's birthday. That used to be my Rain Man ability. But it seems like, as I progress further on this journey that is life, the people I've met along the way start to fade away, moving closer and closer to the dark edges of my memory until one day, they'll fall off into oblivion and I won't be able to remember if they ever existed at all.

What happens when we get old? And we want to remember these people who have been in our lives, either as featured players or as extras, and we just can't? Is it like the phantom itch that terrorizes amputees? A burning itch that can't be soothed because it's not really there? What happens when you can't remember all of the people you have loved over a lifetime, even though you desperately want to hold onto them, if only in the cherishing reaches of your mind? What about the ones you have loved over many lifetimes?

I feel like I'm going through life trying to remember this incredible love I once had, a long, long time ago. And I search the eyes of everyone I meet hoping to find something that will help me remember. I am so close to remembering...what it is...who it is...who I am...this knowledge is so close to reaching the clarity of light sometimes that I think I am on the brink of deciphering the language and purpose of my life, but then it dissipates just as it's about to take form, receding back into the shadows of my mind. It's like spending a life time on the verge of sneezing, but never actually getting enough momentum for the relief of release.

Torturous.

But could I abandon this quest, and live a happy life having never solved this great personal, private mystery? No. It would always be in the back of my mind, causing unrest in the deepest levels of my soul. So it's what I do. I'm trying my best. And I'm meeting a lot of interesting characters along the way.

Don't give up on me just yet. I'm still capable of some surprises.

Today's Mood: To understand life, one must understand the ocean...

I'm about to settle down and do some writing. I went to PT today and I got to work out in the pool! They put this thing around my chest to keep me floating and tethered me to the wall and I got to jog in place. The most exercise I've gotten in a while. I was so happy just to be moving again that I was going full speed tearing it up, running against this leash with a big, goofy grin on my face the entire time. Asian on a leash. Like a hamster in a wheel. Or a pig on a spit. Wait no. Not that last one.

So as I was heating up peas on the stove and talking to Brian a few minutes ago, I suddenly had a flashback of another quintessential conversation between my mom and I that we had this weekend.

I can't remember how it came up or what we were talking about but I joked that no one gets to touch me (remember, my mom firmly clings to the belief that I'm a virgin). So she says, "No Julia. One day, when you find someone who truly loves you, you have to let him touch you." As panic sets in, I don't want to let on that I know what she's talking about or that this conversation is obviously going to a weird (BAD! BAD! BAD!) place so I say, "No, no one gets to touch me." She said, "Yes Julia, when you find the right person, you will have to do what men and women do when they really love each other."

(shoot me)

Courtesy of Nate Newman, who thinks the Lakers are going to win it all this year and who hates the Pistons. He's trying to make me homeless when I quit my job to go chasing butterflies.

Another reason why I don't believe in marriage...you may end up with an idiot.

Okay, not to psychoanalyze but you know I'm going to anyway, but if I were a child psychologist or school teacher and one of my kids drew this picture as a card for his/her mother, I would suspect some SERIOUS psychological/emotional dysfunction going on at home. Courtesy of http://www.foundmagazine.com/

How long before we hit the Dark Ages again?

Halloween Pictures Now In!

special thanks to Brian and Amber. I went camera-less this year, as my camera is still filled with sand... :(

Drag Race Contestants (The Drag Races are an LA tradition on the afternoon of Halloween. Drag queens in minimum 2-inch heels racing down the street. Absolutely. FABULOUS.)

I'm Asian. There were drag queens racing. OF COURSE I brought my video camera... (and yes, that is a helmet I'm holding. Amber and I were wearing helmets. We wanted Brian to show up at the Drag Races the way a rich Texan would show up in Vegas. Except rather than having a hot girl on each arm, he had a couple of retards. Well...it was funny when we drunkenly thought of it the night before...)

These guys weren't fucking around. They were surprisingly fast.

Cruella books it.

I came home and found my house set up as an obstacle course.

Let's recap... TERRI: "She gets really hot when I put velcro on her nipples..."

Team Double Dare stretches as it prepares for the evening ahead.

And they stretched...

and they stretched...

Team Double Dare stops traffic.

Team Double Dare with the Super Mario Brothers. HOT.

Here I am with my wife and his strap-on.

And then we ran into Calvin (aka Lil' Kim) and I licked his boobie.

Terri kisses my Lapdance Boy.

Nothing is sacred when it comes to us...

The award for best costumes went to...Reno 911.

What's a prudent amount of money for someone my age (26) to have in a savings account? I went to the ATM to make a deposit the other day and when the receipt printed out, it fell on the ground. So I picked it up, but accidentally picked up someone else's receipt (the ground was littered with them), and this person had about $27,600 in his/her account. CHECKING account!! Needless to say, that definitely wasn't my account balance, though I wish it were. How do you determine what percentage of your paycheck should go into savings each month? I'm terrified of ending up broke and homeless.