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

-Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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



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

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

on world politics

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

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

so what can i really say.

"We only get what we give."

Even on a rebellious day

I still have to write these things.

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

How could you ever understand.

Happy Chinese New Year



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

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

Photo by woolloomooloo, courtesy of Creative Commons.

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

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

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


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


Sometimes you do things just because you can.


I wonder if that's a good enough reason.

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

Dreamers, the lot of us

in streaming

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


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

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

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

I read your work and I wonder

what kind of person you came to be

between the details

the ache of your pen

diction pulled between the creases

of these ordinary moments.

i didn't know what to say

He said something about timing.

She said something about luck.


   missed connections all across the eastern front.

Only in madness may there be brilliance.


P.S.

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

Breaking hearts to make the papers.

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

The Truman Show

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


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


Keep mouth shut, for the love of god.


Must locate boundaries.  I was never good at that.


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

Rome, Rome, Rome, Rome

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



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

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

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

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


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

You were the anthem in the messiest of times.

One Day

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



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

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

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

marilyn monroe

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

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

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



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

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

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

Has to be worth something.

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



I miss being so high on life.

Even now, our banter still works.

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


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

In 2010.

Shedding the crazy.

A New Year

I think I stopped being so hard on myself, but I most definitely did not stop taking "that bullshit." And I failed on swearing off men. I failed not once, but several times over. And in some ways, worse than the year before. Karma's a bitch I guess. But I learned new lessons. And I realized some things. That "hooking up" (Yes, I'm using the oh so vague saying that I hate because it really doesn't mean anything, precisely why I'm using it.) with someone you don't have feelings for is pretty much a waste of time. In the morning after, you end up pretty much emptier than before because despite that moment of gratification you're doomed to realize what you once again lack.

So the experimental stage of my life is officially over I think.

And here I thought I was turning over a new leaf and had become a non crier.


I could just say fuck all this, but I wouldn't mean it.


So I'll just muddle through until it's really okay.



This year is ending in a pretty miserable way. I'm pretty sure this time last year, I was actually pretty happy. My life was in order, and I was okay.

Note: 01/04/2010

In hindsight, I got my act together on December 31st and ended the year in a pretty good way. As it should've been, considering the fact that 2009, despite it's downs, was pretty much life altering - in a damn good way. To put it simply.

For 2010: cheers love and no regrets

Time keeps on moving, the years roll on, but nothing ever gets any easier. Sometimes we fall to making the same mistakes, and sometimes we fail to find the strength to face the things we fear most. But we never, ever lose hope, that one day, everything we've ever worked for will fall into place. That we'll find a love worth keeping, that our children will grow old, that our parents will live with no regrets and that we've done right by ourselves, the ones we love and the strangers who've crossed our paths.

Between now and the new year, I'm supposed to figure out my answer to: What do you want to do with your life? What do you want to do here?





Precisely why I'm having a crisis.

Without fail, still waiting.

Day 10 Sober.

"I think I miss you," he says.

Though I don't subscribe to religion, I will take up praying.

I never want to be someone who wishes they could've done something

For everything.



I wouldn't trade one stupid decision.


No sir.


And today, walking the half-mile Angela's house in over a foot of snow. If I could survive last winter's blizzard in London and the cold winter in Praha and Vienna, I sure as hell can do this.

Winter Break: Day 10

I will brave walking miles through a shit ton of snow. And the shoveling, oh the shoveling.


And there's that class I may not have passed. I'm going to have to send a card and some cookies.

I will read books that I want to read (chicklit for the most part):
How to make love like a porn star, Jenna Jameson - Recommend
Just Friends, Robyn Sisman - Bad? Perhaps.
The Other Woman, Jane Green
What Happened (Inside the Bush White House), Scott McClellan
a stranger's short stories

Three's Company is on TV Land.

Life was easy then.

paper dreams

It's always the same scenes, the same scenes.

"You have to get out of bed. I'm coming over and we're going out," he says.

"No. I'm wallowing. I don't deserve anything." She had a habit for the melodramatic.

"You can't stay in bed forever."

"Yes I can. You don't understand."

"Come on. He'll get over it."

She sat, starring at the empty space, the empty page.

What if, what if, what if.


"Where've you been these days? I miss you. I was driving home, and you came to mind."

"Staunton. Queen city of the south," he replys.

"I still have to visit," she says. But it'd been over 2 years since the last time. It was an empty promise, she knew, he knew.

"How are the girls in your life?"

"I'm seeing this girl. She's a spicy meatball."

"Aren't they all? Where'd you find this one?"

"Match.com. I really like this one. She lives in Charlottesville."

"You really liked the last one," she says wryly.

"Well, you know me."

I miss you like an ex-fat kid misses cake.

I'm quitting the game.


For now anyway.

Hey

I forgot it was your birthday.

But I remembered you had, had the courtesy to wish me well on mine.

So I did the same.

And you said thanks.

And for some reason, it just made me really sad.




You just reminded me, that I can't settle for less anymore.

Suffering from a delayed reaction on life, consistently romanticizing the past, disaffected with the future and an inability to care for the present. I say what I think, at any given moment, perhaps with too much candor, but never ill-mannered. Anyway, aren't we all just looking for something?

I've been off Facebook for almost 24 hours, and somehow I have no want to get it back. Guess I really am disaffected.

Anyway, after the horror that is this semester is over, I think I may take a self-imposed hiatus from e-mail as well. Crazy huh? I check that thing and respond to people like it's my job.

If anyone needs me, I have a cell phone.


I miss using it to have conversation. I think I'm going to revert back to the good old days.

Work on this thing called love.

childhood crushes

I deactivated my Facebook today. I realized, I'm addicted to checking my e-mail, twitter and Facebook. Even when I'm in the room with other people, I'm continuously seeing if someone else has left me a message. Of course I do it more when I'm actually waiting for someone to do so. or rather, hoping.

Anyway, I wandered over to my old Live Journal account. While listening to Youtube videos of All 4 One, KC & JoJo, Joe and Boys II Men, I figured I might as well continue down memory lane. And I started looking through entries I'd saved under memories. And it was funny. The one I wrote about him was titled, "young and naive."

Guess that says it all. But it's kind of sad all at once, to take the weight away from it with those words.


It's weird to be 25 years old and moving back into my parents house. I'm driving down the same streets that I used to. And it's like, sometimes I wonder if too much has happened here for anything to be good. As of the past few years, I find myself reverting back to guys of the past. Not on purpose, it just happens, I guess, when you move back to your old hometown. It just happens.

And it makes me wonder, if my pursuit is a result of the fact that we share some semblance of a past.



I'm reaching the 6 month mark in this city, and I feel ready to go.

Aside from the education, one thing I've taken away from having a masters and a half....is that formal education, in the form of an M.A., pretty much, doesn't mean all that much in the real world. or at least in the real world I'm set to enter. Except for the fact that you need to be in school in order to be eligible for most internships, most unpaid internships at that. This conundrum.


And I don't know. I'm not sure it means all that much to me either.

But maybe I can say this because I already have it, of course.


Versus a date. Now there's an accomplishment, kidding. Well, these days, not really.

I was born old.



Matters of the heart have always been my vice.

Casual sex is great, if you have the emotional capacity for it. Tragically, I do not. Therefore, I find it pretty pointless.



As much as I try to fight it, I'm an old fashioned girl at heart.



Life is one big experiment. A series of never-ending rough drafts. Until you die.


I was just wondering today, if journalists handle rejection better than the regular population because I sure as hell have gotten rejected a lot lately. Apparently most humans have an issue with being on camera and/or giving me their last name.


Maybe, one day, I'll get lucky. That's all it seems to be sometimes.

Not much has changed in 16 years.

on making time for many men, many many many men

me: "I HAVE TO WRITE A PAPER"
ang: "oh well, gotta live life first"

August 1992. Washington, D.C. On the National Mall.

This was the same day my mom bought me a snow cone from one of those street vendors, which were my favorite, and I accidentally dropped it and started to cry. I don't even know why, somehow I thought they were irreplaceable. But she got me another one. And then it started to pour. It was one of those storms that leaves as abruptly as it arrives. By the time we got to our car we were drenched. And I remember, after we got home and changed, we all went to Chuck E Cheese.

I had a pretty good childhood.

Along the same lines

I know I complain a lot. About graduate school, about the decisions I've made, about this course in life that I've chosen, about never making it.

But, at the end of the day, I don't regret a single choice I've ever made. And I'm incredibly thankful to be here today, where I am. Albeit stuck with hefty student loans and still living at home with the 'rents. But it's okay.

Because I'm thankful they're healthy. This time, 3 years ago, it was a terribly different story. And those months were hard. Really hard. And these days, my poor dad and his back. But he'll be fine.

And I'm thankful for everything I've been given, for the life my parents have given me and the opportunity they've allowed me in order to pursue my dreams. No, they haven't always been entirely supportive, in my decision to pursue writing, to pursue journalism to pursue another graduate program (YOU WILL BE POOR.), but they've always been my crutch.

So I still have a 25 page paper to write for my seminar class, and I'm aware life will only continue to get harder, but it's okay. If it weren't hard (that's what she said.), nothing would ever be worthwhile.

"Sometimes you just need to let go and move on."

That's what they tell me.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm refusing to settle or just scared of being with someone who'd want to be with me.

I need a new hobby.

Strangers

Sunday mornings, sweats in bed, stories missing. Bundled dreams, these lofty ideas, kept away. Will we ever make it out of this town.

Alicia Keys, Empire State of Mind solo.

What are we going to do with ourselves?

the after years were filled with the pursuit of relentless dreams.

[Williamsburg, Brooklyn]
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