"So what if I didn't have a girlfriend? Would it be different?"

We'd noticed him. Picked through the guys, noting the cute ones, calling dibs, as if we were younger than we were. Of course, the good one, the one we didn't notice till later 'cause he didn't say much, only smiling on occasion, was often wrapped up on the phone with his girlfriend.  

Some people think nothing good happens after 2 a.m., I think, sometimes the most interesting things happen in the depth of night, whether we're inebriated or not, there's something about the late hours that sometimes makes us do things we wouldn't otherwise do. "I don't even know you," he'd said, as if that fact had just occurred to him, midway through his speech on how we should be together. We were standing in the kitchen, and he was still talking, spilling details, thoughts, he'd probably groan about in the morning. I couldn't really believe what I was hearing, or that this was actually happening. "Say this to me again, when you're not drunk." "I know you keep saying I'm drunk, but I'm not," he said, explaining the last beer he had was at some odd hour, but he was because he never spoke that much, and I couldn't figure out how he'd gotten here. A fight with the girlfriend? One too many shots? "Okay, say that I am drunk, and I know people would say differently, but it's then, when people are the most honest, when they say how they really feel." And on other occasion, I'd given that exact same speech. But now, I knew better. Sure, we may say exactly what we feel, in that moment, or what we may have been thinking, a thought that once crossed our minds, exacerbated by the liquor, the booze, but if we can't act on those feelings, thoughts in the sober light of day, then they don't really hold any weight. Unless, we're living our lives drunk. "So what if I didn't have a girlfriend? Would it be different?" Rule #7 Don't get into an affair with a man who's already taken. Especially if you're insecure to begin with because even if you 'win' him in the end, you'll end up wondering through the course of your relationship if he really will be faithful to you. "I was surprised when they said you were Viet." He'd paid attention. He'd kissed me on the forehead. And I wondered, why guys did that. And in the sober light of day, none of it stuck, but for that moment, even though it was in inebriation, I'm not sure I've ever had someone so insistent, in that way, to be with me, when he didn't even know me. And maybe it meant nothing, maybe it was only a passing thought he once had, but I thank you, anyway.

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.

It was past 3 AM and they were on skype. He was speaking, but she felt the need to type her responses instead. For some strange reason, she always preferred it that way. "You would," he'd said. "But it's okay, I think it's cute." Offhanded comments, as if he knew her. I believe in you. He said things like that often. As if their relationship was based on a past, a past where he knew her, a past where he understood her, a past filled with endless late night conversations over nothing. They'd met in a basement bar, near close, in a hostel in Vienna a few months back. He'd been trying to hit on her friend, offered the friend a shot of tequila, but somehow the friend got caught up in a shaggy haired aspiring film maker from LA instead. So, by accident, they got lost in conversation, and she decided he was all right. All right for the evening, entertaining enough.

She came home, with dreams of Paris. A city she never cared for, but he was studying there. It was never a coincidence, nothing ever really is. An aspiring architect. She equated the occupation to that of a writer. Creator of things, makers of something out of nothing versus most ordinary occupations, imitators, a life's work of regurgitation, money makers. Nothing with weight is ever a coincidence, and assigning weight is our choice. "When are you visiting Paris? You should come," he'd said. But she had changed her mind. She got scared. These ideas were always fun to toy with. To get lost in. It's funny how the state of intoxication allows people to dream and hope to live with reckless abandon, but in the light of the morning, we all retreat back into our ordinary shells, for fear, of everything. Their conversations operated with a sense of depth on the surface, but underneath it all, she knew she didn't feel it. She couldn't feel it.

Childs Play

On writing thousands of useless words which will probably never amount to anything.

Leigh: "I need a drink, drink until I can't feel feelings."

Food, Fountains, Lions, Smashing Pumpkins and Procrastination

Last Monday, after Michele's class when we realized we were pretty much fucked for the semester, me, Leigh and Ilk decided to go get a drink to release our stress. Btw, graduate school has definitely lead me to drink more, and it's mostly due to the fact that I'm constantly stressed. As we were walking down the stairs out of the palazzo.

Someone: We have so much work to do and we're going to drink.
Kim: Whatever, we're fucked anyway.
Leigh: We're already fucked so we might as well keep fucking ourselves

Our professor appears behind us as we open the front door. Smiles awkwardly and walks in the opposite direction, even though he was headed to the bus stop which was in our direction.

But anywho, Monday nights at the Lions Fountain. They accept American dollars and for every beer you buy, you also get a free shot. We met Dan, this random New Yorker who'd just come from Lebanon. And later there was Alex from San Diego at the bar. Who I mentioned after I returned to our table, and Alex happened to have been Dan's random drinking partner all week. So Alex came over, he wore converses and his jeans were fine, so we accepted him. We all happened to be political science majors. Weird.

Of course then, he gets on a rant about the Smashing Pumpkins and why he couldn't understand why Leigh didn't care for them. Personally I've always enjoyed the music at this bar. But anyway, Leigh later determined his converses were too clean and the knots on his shoelaces were all wrong. Needless to say, he has not been Facebook friended.




Smashing Pumpkins. 1979.


Speaking of Lions.

We were on a class trip to Brussels 03.09.09 - 03.13.09. Ilk, our lone Iranian, wanted to take us to this authentic Middle Eastern tea house. We were the only ones in the establishment and the woman had long black hair with a mole-ish face looked like she could've tortured us slowly. There were three teas listed on the menu. Um, and this lovely one was Lipton tea from none other than Food Lion.

Needless to say, Ilk was not too happy with the events which ensued. Ah, but alas, it's moments like these which make life any fun.

Moments unforgettable.