Echo

So at Daisy’s wedding, I realized I have so many cousins. I tried to add them up in my head, but I lost count. So I’m going to make a list:

Mom’s side (2 brothers, 2 sisters):
Mike
Suzie
Ching-Wen
Linda
Jason
Bohr
Binh
Ray
Edison
Jonathan

Dad’s side (2 brothers, 1 sister, 2 half-brothers, 2 half-sisters):
Miranda
Albert
P
Sammy
Sharon
Julia
Stephanie
Joanna
Ray
Anna
Heather
Ryan
Howie
Justin
other Ryan
Daisy
Danny
Joey
Yvonne
Gilbert
Linda
Mier
Steven

2nd cousins:
Austin
Alicia
Devin
Tyler
Brandon
Avery
Grayson

I’m probably forgetting some people. Add in the cool people who married into the family (Gilbert, Albert, Justin, Judy, Gina, Janelle) and family gatherings are usually giant parties.

I’m the 2nd oldest on my mom’s side (Mike is the oldest but he grew up in Taiwan, so all my cousins in the US looked to me as the oldest). 3rd oldest on my dad’s side. Many of my cousins on my dad’s side are by marriage through my dad’s older brother’s wife (5 sisters). They’re all tight, so we’re close to them, too. None of the cousins on my mom’s side has kids, and only Suzie has been married (and divorced. Rumor is she’s got a secret relationship with an Italian guy much older than her with a daughter).

I always wished for an older brother. Or more siblings. It’s kind of isolating having only one sibling, and as much as I love my one sibling, it can be lonely because Michael can be such an enigma. But I do realize that maybe I was compensated, because having all these cousins is kind of like having a lot of siblings who just happened to grow up in different homes. Whatever little squabbles people have, overall, we’re a loud, happy family, and we support each other. Though beware the devilish streak. My family has a way of goading people into drinking games and getting them shitfaced. Particularly my dad and my cousin Albert. If you see them approach with a bottle and a gleam in their eye, beware.

Man down!

you know what the thing is? i’ve always been nice to my uncle. i always forget that there’s been any bad history, unless he does something in the present that enflames all those feelings again. i can always make him laugh, and accept that he thinks of me as “crazy” as a win because at least he doesn’t think of me as “dangerous” anymore, and that’s how i disarm the distrust. and i’ve always hoped that he and my dad could put the grudge away and at least be civil towards each other. at least be able to be in the same room. i usually cook the whole thanksgiving spread and we have a big banquet party at our house, but since i was in amsterdam working cannabis cup during thanksgiving last year, i cooked the christmas spread instead. i personally called up my uncle and invited him, but it turned out he was secretly having surgery to remove a tumor in his throat that night, so the whole family couldn’t come. i even offered to pack up food so they could have a homecooked meal at the hospital. so he can never say i haven’t had good will towards him. well, he probably does say it, but for him to believe it would be kind of delusional.

but sometimes, people don’t see people, or individual efforts. they see sides. like sometimes, i can tell when my mom and dad are fighting about something to do with work, because i’ll talk to my dad and he’ll just get mad at me for some vague or inappropriate reason just to say, “you’re just like your mother.” it used to be terrorizing when i was younger, to be at the receiving end of this irrational and hot, hot anger, but now i know, he’s just projecting his anger at her on me. And because he assumes i’m usually on her side, he’s angry at me, too. it doesn’t come from lack of love. it comes from lack of trust. lack of clear perspective on the situation.

i know i’m guilty of it, too. i have a rivalry with a cousin. but he’s close with my dad. and whenever he does something that i perceive as him clearly trying to provoke me, my dad always stands up for him, and then i angrily lash out at my dad, because i feel like he should be on my side.

humans.

we’re such powerful, immense beings. yet all it takes is the smallest, pettiest things to bring out our flaws.

but it’s this contradiction, the great potential and the great imperfections that define humanness. the best we can do, is do the best we can.

tell me…do you want me for me, or do you want me because you’re determined to prove you can catch me?

all the world asks of you is for you to be you.

Crossroads–rent out my place in LA or not.

I talked to a realtor who said I can get minimum $3700 a month for renting the whole place out, which would cover the mortgage and other costs, but it would mean Brian would have to move out, and I would be giving up the only place that’s ever felt like a home to me to strangers. But on the other hand, I’m paying a lot of money for a place where I’m not living, a place that’s also my most valuable asset. Right now, it’s my safety net, my place of retreat, but it’s costing me money when it could be making me money.

I usually make the practical decision, which tells me to rent it out and if I want to go back to LA, to just rent a studio or something. But more likely than not, this means I won’t go back to LA anytime soon if I don’t have my home anymore. I was never that into LA. I was mostly into my actual home, which was one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever found. I talked to my mom today and she thinks I should hang on to it. She said to talk to Brian about upping his rent so that I can get the barebones costs covered, because end of the day, he’s like family and we’ve been living together for so long, that if I decide to go back, it’ll be really hard to find a roommate that I get along so well with. But then I’ve always wondered if we use our relationship as a crutch…that as long as we’re living together, we won’t start the lives we should be starting with actual partners. We’re inhibiting each other because it’s so easy for us to continue the way we are…common law partners in a sexless relationship, bonded by our love of making fun of other people as a way to mask our own underlying loneliness.

Secretly, I think this would be my ideal–rent out my place to people who want it furnished so I don’t actually have to move the furniture. Hopefully these people actually pay their rent and pay it on time (my mom worries about nightmare stories she hears where people stop paying, and in the months it takes to go through the eviction process, you end up losing more money than you made overall). Put the extra money into paying down the principle on the mortgage so I can own it sooner. In a few years, when I’ve done the things I want to do and hopefully have by my side the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with, we’ll have a very nice place in a very nice area of LA as an option to live. If not, I’ll have a strong piece of investment property. But seriously, that place has some of the best energy in LA.

I don’t know. I’ve been living there since it was built. It has my energy and only my energy, and everyone who’s been there has commented on how great the energy is. That place is as much me, as I am a part of it. Like I said, it’s the only place I’ve ever found that really felt like a home to me. The only problem I have in LA is I get kind of lonely down there because my family and closest friends are in the bay area, while it’s more superficial acquaintances in LA.

God, this is hard. It’s hard because it’s both a practical decision as well as an emotional one.

One of the girls on the team yesterday went down with a knee injury in the first half. She’d torn her ACL in her left knee and had surgery on it years ago. Last night, she went down scrambling for a rebound and said she’d felt the right one “pop.” Anyone who has had an ACL injury knows that a pop is dangerous news. She sent out an email today saying she found out it’s an ACL tear. Bad news. Worst case scenario. Cecelia and I had sat out with her when she went down, helping her to the sidelines and getting her leg propped up. Cecelia’s had 2 knee surgeries and I’ve had 5, and apparently this girl’s had 1. Basketball’s really rough on women’s knees because we have wider hips which angle our femurs inwards, making the knee ligaments susceptible to injury, particularly torn ACL’s and meniscuses. I used to be the high-jumping rebounder/shot-blocker, but when you get up that high, you have to come down and often, you come down on someone’s foot. Or someone knocks you in the air and you land wrong. After all the surgeries, the compromise I made with myself was that I wouldn’t get aggressive under the basket, or jump for rebounds. Nowadays, the ball goes up and I get out of the way, even though my favorite things are soaring for rebounds and blocks. I stay close to the ground. But last night, to fill the void left by her, and because my shots weren’t falling, I was going for the blocks and rebounds, driving to the basket straight at defenders. It felt great to be playing aggressively and in the air again, but I knew every time I landed safely, that I was lucky.

I don’t know…hurt my knee and my time in Seattle’s done. Instantly. Plus, ACL’s a hard surgery. You basically have to relearn how to walk.

Maybe it’s not worth it, Julia. Think about it.

who needs a 10-lb bag of carrots?

apparently i do.

my cousin told me that her dad thinks i’m rude because i call my mom by her first name. she said he’s always telling her that i’m a bad influence. i laughed and said, i’m probably a bad influence, but not for that reason. i told her that her dad always thought lowly of me. she said she remembers being a little kid at our house, and a fight erupting between her dad and i that resulted in me locking myself in the bathroom. yeah, i remembered that one. it was because i’d already announced i was going to michigan, and that day at a large family get together, he found out i got into berkeley. then he said loudly to the room, “oh, i just thought julia wasn’t smart enough to get into any good schools. if she got into berkeley, then she’s selfish for choosing to go so far away from the family.” i was pretty angry. for him saying such a dickish thing, and also for him trying to humiliate me in front of the family.

i’ve brought up to my mom before that my uncle (her younger brother) is constantly belittling me and being rude to me, and she always tells me not to take it personally…that he just insults me because he sees me as the product of my father and it’s a result of his animosity towards my dad. to not take it personally because it’s not about me but my dad, as if that excuses it or makes it okay.

this whole thing…is bullshit.

but i like my cousins. we take care of each other. at least the rivalries of our parents have not affected our relationships. my cousin was sympathetic about the way her dad talks shit about me, and knows it’s not reflective of who i am. she’s always looked up to me, since she was a little kid. she was telling me our aunt (my mom and her dad’s younger sister) is always critical of her, telling her she needs to lose weight, etc., so she hates being around our aunt. maybe it’s just chinese families. maybe it’s just the nature of family. you take the good with the bad. it’s the price you pay for having the benefits of a clan.

holy shit, today’s an 11/11/11. that means i’m out tonight.

the shortest distance between two points is the truth.

first of all, i sucked today. went 2 for 7 and missed the shots i should have made. it was all psychological. every time i was open and took the shot, i would have a sudden worry that my teammates think i’m selfish for not passing, even though i started the game with 2 assists. i’m my own worst enemy. i have this specific issue about people thinking i’m selfish, and sometimes, it takes me away from me at my best. at least i had 4 blocks, which made up for it. i love blocking shots. and the refs love me. me and the bruthas. they love witty, athletic girls. but i was really irritated with my play overall. we lost by two in the final seconds. if i had made at least two of those shots…

i think this is why i don’t play organized sports. it ends up consuming me. and then i go so far out into intensity that i end up sacrificing my body and getting hurt. this was always a problem. my intensity would be fine if i were playing college or pro, but there’s no point in putting myself at risk when it’s purely recreational. after the game, i was thinking about how i could improve, and went to the gym directly from the game to work on conditioning. i take sports seriously as though i’m trying to go pro, when really, i just want to keep improving. i want to be really good. i get so down after a mediocre or bad game. but this isn’t going anywhere. so what’s the point of me being so obsessive about it? but it’s like i can’t stop myself. anything i put my mind on, i get so passionate.

and now another night where i can’t sleep. this is torture.

ooooh, march/april 2010 is lit up.

i always sleep with my guns when you’re gone…

-shivaree

i just want someone to come home to, someone i can fall asleep with his arms around me, my head pressed against his chest as the rhythm of his heartbeat lulls me safely into sleep.

it’s been a long time since i’ve really been able to sleep. every angle of every minute, feels like, searching, seeking, waiting. discovering new things and saving them, to share with him. but i come home, and he’s not here. just echoes…and the night.

and then that struggle, to finally jump over that dark chasm into a sleep world that holds not sanctuary and repose, but more cryptic strangers in a forest offering clues to finding him if i just give them something in return. and i always do.

people always say i’m single-minded when it comes to purpose. and this purpose has drawn me so far out that perhaps i am closer to home than when i started. i always believed home was a person for me, a place existing in the space between two people connected beyond time.

i’m so tired. i can feel my insides buckling. maybe the time has come to stop searching for home. maybe it’s time that home comes searching for me.

Dude. My calves are like rocks. 3rd game of the season tomorrow. We’re underdogs by 7 points.

sometimes, when you tell a story, you stand at a crossroad of what you want to illuminate. whichever angle you choose will cast a different light, thus changing its meaning. I feel like I’m at a crossroad.

I’m starting to see something here. The legacy of fathers who are ambivalent about their sons. The legacy of someone who has used words to hurt and diminish. Watch how some people choose their words very carefully.

Observation

Seattle does a lot of following. Nothing too overt, but they keep you on their radar while pretending they don’t notice you.Is it just their (awkward and cautious) social style, or is all following of women by strange men across the boards alarming? Then, to toss more angles into the debate, I happened to find this wikipedia article:

Lone Wolf (Trait):

A lone wolf is a wolf that lives by itself rather than with others as part of a pack. Lone wolves are typically old specimens driven from their pack or young adults in search of new territory. Instead of openly challenging the leadership of the pack leaders, most young wolves between the ages of 1 and 4 years leave their family in order to search for a pack of their own. Some wolves will simply remain lone wolves; as such, lone wolves are usually stronger, more aggressive and far more dangerous than the average wolf that is a member of a pack. They have difficulty hunting, as wolves’ favorite prey are large ungulates, and it is nearly impossible for a wolf to bring one down by itself (hunting on their own can be done, as lone wolves are naturally stronger and some specialize in hunting moose on their own). Instead, they will hunt smaller animals and scavenge. Sometimes, a lone wolf will find another lone wolf of the opposite sex, and the two will start a new pack.

I wonder if I’m drawing lone wolves out of the woodwork...

Are you a young, virile wolf between 1 and 4 years old? Are you looking to start a new pack with a sexy lone wolf of the opposite sex? Come find me, by the ungulates…waiting breathlessly for your cooperation.

How the sky looks depends on what color glasses you’re wearing.

You can learn a lot about a person by watching them play basketball.

How I wish you could see the potential
The potential of you and me
It’s like a book elegantly bound but…
in a language that you can’t read just yet

–death cab for cutie