Echo

always be free.

This is how it’s been. Every since my trip to San Francisco, I’ve been unstoppable. The same energy that was moving me last summer was coming through me, completely unapologetic. So I’ve played big, getting into people without trying, making things happen. If I can grab a person through their eyes, it’s like we have this link, and that’s when truthful things happen.

Coming back home, I realized I don’t hate Los Angeles, I’m just bored here. I love my home, I love the area, I love the little pockets I’ve made familiar. I love that I can be a complete stranger. But what I want from it is this–I want it to give me a reason to stay. The biggest issue is that I just don’t have enough connections out here because so many times, I look into someone’s eyes and there’s no one home. “This human is on auto-pilot.” A deserted little control room still in mechanical operation like on Lost.

But then I started thinking, maybe if I put out my energy, I can wake people up. So I’ve been walking around like I’ve got this fire trapped inside my inner-most compartment, just raging to get out and making me highly uncomfortable if I don’t keep expanding. I’ve been telling people how things are, not so much as words, but as realities. And they follow those lines. I’m always mindful that what I project is for their own good, or a positive step towards a collective benefit. Because at the end of the day, that’s the fiber of what I am.

At work I’ve been a little war general. And we’ve got an uprising. But of course, I’ve come to terms that should the movement fail, I will be the one sacrificed. I volunteered myself because I am the only one who can afford it.

So my brain has been completely focused on work, how to structure the exact reality I want there. I haven’t done much in this time outside of working, watching DVDs and going to the gym. Basketball and seeing those weekend morning guys has been a real pleasure and highlight. But outside of that, I limit all of my attention to work and listening to strangers for my next maneuvers.

I was terrified of this WangCon trip. WangCon was basically this amazing Girls-to-Vegas trip some friends of mine went on last year to see Prince. Apparently, it was such a life-changing experience, it was an event that had to be recreated and shared with as many loved ones as possible. So somehow, the idea of a girls’ Vegas trip expanded to the initiation of seeing a wang show. Apparently, some other girls had gone and swore it was funny and interesting.

Personally, I don’t care for strippers. The door opens, you get this cheesy guy who still thinks it’s the 80’s. He brings his own gear bag and a broke-ass stereo. And five minutes later, he’s dancing as 20 middle-aged Asian women go scattering for the corners.

Yes, this was my experience of male strippers from embarrassing family events.

And ever since Sareet came up with the idea that you could get crabs in your eyelashes from twirling wang, I’ve been terrified for my vanity.

But I really had a feeling that no was not an acceptable answer, so even though I hadn’t even been able to make myself pack yet with 3 hours to go before boarding, I had my coworker smoke me out, and I marched over to meet the girls for a trip I truly prayed I survived.

8:30pm Flight to Vegas

I note that it’s a little bit awkward. We’re a tribe without form. It’s like the opening episode of The Amazing Race with the underlying fear that within hours, we may very well want to kill each other.

We meet up with some other girls (no one shall be named). I had booked late (I was all about procrastination with this trip) so I separated from the pack to rows down. I wish I had brought my DVD player but was happy to have my iPod. Been listening to a lot of the Stones, the Animals, classic rock etc. I have noise-cancelling headphones. Still, I heard a woman loudly proclaim, something something “WEINER!” I took off my headphones and turned around. Of course it was someone from our party. I got their attention and said in a very severe tone, “Can you guys just chill it?” I made an open gesture at everyone seated between us. Sareet immediately told everyone to shush. “Thank you.” I said, shaking my head, making eye contact with everyone nodding sympathetically at me and who obviously had no idea I was with the same rowdy group. I whispered to a friend close by…”Just promise you’ll bail me out by Sunday. I’ve gotta be at work Monday morning.”

We were very excited about having ordered a limo which came with a driver who would be bearing the sign, “WangCon.” They wondered what the guy thought about girls coming for something called WangCon, so I said offered to pretend I was a woman named Connie Wang and it was my birthday.

We were very happy with the sign.

I met a girl named Tinkerbell. You would not believe it, but she looked like her name would be Tinkerbell. Guess which one:

We had champagne and our own soundtrack in the limo which included this:

This is now my favorite song.

More later.

So we get to the hotel. Imperial Palace. Seriously, we were begging for adventure. Of course our clerk couldn’t find the group discount on our reservation. She kept saying she would need to call someone but just standing there. We had to repeatedly ask her to make the call. Finally she left and went into the back room. I told Jessie she should have told her, “Mary, why don’t you walk your pretty little self into the back and make that call?” Jessie half heartedly agreed and I said, “No really. You should have said, ‘Mary…why don’t you walk your pretty little self into the back and make that call?’….as you walk your fingers along the counter like little legs.” I showed her. Twice to make sure she understood. “No, I just couldn’t be that mean,” said Jessie, even though she totally thought about it.

We totally waited for Mary for like 15 minutes.

We were abundant with theories:

-maybe she fell asleep?
-maybe she threw up.
-maybe she went on break.

We asked several clerks to check on her. They would all step into the room Mary was in, linger for about a minute, and then come out shrugging and apologizing, “I uh…I don’t know what she’s doing in there. She’s…uh, calling.”

Which made me curious what was going on in that room with Mary that could so confuse and discombobulate fellow coworkers.

Finally I went to the manager, told her that the discount was on this bill, pointing her to the station where we were waiting, then took her over and pointed her to ours, therefore it should be on this bill. they were booked at the same time.

Somewhere in that, it worked. A collective lightbulb went off. It was awesome.

Meanwhile, we’ve lost two WangCon members to anxiously smoking, and another to a warm greeting with a new man she was meeting for the first time from the internet.

No seriously. I just said that. wtf.

Of course, I didn’t know this at the time because I’m a moron. I just think they’re long lost friends meeting up for a reunion who really, really want to have sex.

We check in. I’m with Cody whose flight was delayed so I have the room to myself. I think, I could take a shower, I could take a nap, or I could call my mom and rant about work. Like an addict, I call my mom. SCREAMING all my logical arguments of why I have to quit. Then cut her off because I realize I’m about an hour late for bringing some ice up to the party.

I get lost in the halls. It’s like the Shining in there. Have to ride down to the elevator to recharge with human contact, finally find the room which was two halls up. Girls are getting trashed.
Don disguise. Really, I’m joyous. This is gonna be so much fun.

They want to go to the Stratosphere. Remember when Vegas was my town? I know about the Stratosphere. But they’d heard there was a club with an open bar with 4 dance floors and they were determined to find out. Energetically, the Strastosphere is my evil nemesis.

The bar is awful. Like the set of a high school play, albeit one with great financial backing. Of course there was only one dance floor open, and a lot of stupid, gawking men. One of them farted. I swear he did.

I was pretty rude about it. I hate this place. Sareet wanted to gamble. She asked if it’s rude that we just leave? I say no and damn near drag her out of the club. I don’t remember what we played. But the place sucked the money right out of us. Good thing I let it know I didn’t fucking care. I only brought a little bit.

We went back in and the girls were dancing on the bar. I was amazed they weren’t falling off. Took many pictures as proof of feet. Then sat down and looked only at people’s butts. I was so so sleepy every guy who crept towards me irritated me. Sometimes I’ll simmer glare at a man like I just might eat his head like a tiger. Sometimes it makes me feel guilty when doing this scares someone.

and then between 2:45am and 3:50am as mostly weird lurkers remained-

dear god: these guys are morons. you have spawned morons. are we breaking your heart yet, god? because you’re breaking mine.

and at 3:55am I demanded food and dragged the girls out.

peppermill

i saw the biggest mound of nachos that it actually looked like a cartoon prop. i didn’t get a picture of it because i was scared to look directly at it.

5:30am
stumble and sleep.

11am
woken up by a loud aerobics instructor somehow under our window, followed by 80’s cover band in the cabana below. i tough it out for another hour, determinedly incorporating all these strange sounds into my dream.

12pm
shower. I asked Cody what time it was and her clock was wrong. I was too polite to correct her.

imperial palace

i hate gambling here, too. but i love the dealertainment. i secretly love aretha the best and am terrified of the rod stewart.

i lose. we walk around the strip, they’re gonna play games at planet hollywood, i wanna go to espn zone to shoot some hoops so i leave. truthfully, i kind of wanted to be alone. to be able to step back and see what was going on around me.

walked all the way down, checking out stores and wares and people. Bought a pack of dark peanut m&m’s at the m&m store. when the cashier asked me if i wanted to get 7 for a better deal, i lied and said it was for my blood sugar because i’m diabetic.

ate the whole bag by the time i crossed the street to nyny. hate this place too. love going upstairs at the espn zone.

you want to know which me comes out now? definitely the tiger. i charge up my card and wait until a crowd gathers at the basketball hoops. then i politely ask a guy if he’s next, and he’ll undoubtedly wave for me to go first. then i kill it. sometimes i start off hitting my first seven shots, sometimes i hit 3 out of 4 and then go on an 8 straight tear. i never pay attention because i’m focused on just getting the job over with and then standing back later.

guys don’t know what to do. i challenge some who don’t know me and they think, oh that’s so cute. and then i kill them by 20 pts. some of them get really upset with themselves, so i just tell them, don’t worry. no one’s beat me yet today. it seems to make them feel better. but sometimes they leave wondering if it was an insult.

one guy i sucker punched with a challenge in front of his more fit friend and while he was decent, he got beat by 14. he wanted to play me again so this time, i beat him 44 to 16. it’s okay, i tell him. he’s kind of embarrassed but laughing it off. i start giggling to myself. what? he asks. i think that’s my high score today. he leaves but talks to me later and wants to know where i’m from. i tell him i’m from la but thinking of moving to sf. he says that’s where he is, and wants to know where i would move to. but he’s kind of doofy so it’s not like he isn’t gonna end of hating me. so i say that i don’t know and we play again. okay, i let him win. he needed it. so i tell him afterwards, he’s the first person to beat me today and that makes him happy. he asks me if i know when I’ll know if I’m gonna move. I want to say, “….uh…why? because then i’ll call you to let you know?” but instead, looked caught off guard and then said, “No, sorry.”

i play the boxing game that counts your calories. i’m very good at this game. it’s not that intelligent and i cheat.

as i’m leaving, a guy in his 40’s chases me down the stairs. “I can tell you work out,” he yells as he hurries after me. “You can tell from your arms. And your shoulders.” “Thanks!” i say as I take the last 3 steps in 1 leap and i go for the door.

outside. freedom. still crazy out here. hoof it back to the hotel. talk to michael then my mom. ask her what she’s doing. she says, putting on make-up. i happen to look down at the same time and see an open girlie magazine. the girl was ugly. “eww,” i say looking at the girl. “julia…” my mom says, e
mbarrassed, thinking i was talking to her. “no, mom, you’re beautiful,” i say. she says she has to go and i tell her she can’t because i’m so bored. she puts my grandma on the phone. oooh, triiicky…

fall asleep listening to coldplay’s parachutes which i haven’t listened to since i stopped liking chris martin. wake up and it’s time to get ready for wang.

The underdogs will rise.

Found this on craig’s list. There’s hope again. Let’s be strong and protect it.

what about you

Reply to: pers-588000332@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-02-26, 4:58PM PSTA

A birth certificate shows that we were born; a death certificate shows that we died; pictures show that we lived!

Relax
read this slowly

I believe – That just because two people argue, it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. And just because they don’t argue, it doesn’t mean they do.

I believe – That we don’t have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I believe – That no matter how good a friend is, they’re going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I believe – That true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I believe – That you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

I believe – That it’s taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

I believe – That you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

I believe – That you can keep going long after you think you can’t.

I believe – That we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I believe – That either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I believe – That heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

I believe – That money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I believe – That sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you’re down will be the ones to help you get back up.

I believe – That sometimes when I’m angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn’t give me the right to be cruel.

I believe – That maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you’ve celebrated.

I believe – That it isn’t always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I believe – That no matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn’t stop for your grief.

I believe – That our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I believe – Two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

I believe – That your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don’t even know you.

I believe – That even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you – you will find the strength to help.

I believe – That credentials on the wall do not make you a good human being.

I believe – That the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.

I believe – The happiest people don’t necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have.

Truth:

http://switch3.castup.net/cunet/gm.asp?ai=214&ar=1050wmv&

Just got back from WangCon. I guess it makes more sense that it’s WangCon not WangCom, though the Asians like to turn that n into an m.

I do not have the mental capacity to recap right now. I’ve been up until between 5am and 7am the last few nights, mostly against my will. I’m convinced that these girls will kill anyone who shows weakness, particularly when faced with wang.

But I will tell you this, since I just can’t get over it.

First of all, no one told me this club was FULL FRONTAL.

At least, not until I was on the goddam shuttle to the wang club.

Second of all, no one told me it was a Brutha Club. I figured I was over black wang. You should never take an alcoholic to a liquor store. I’m just saying, there’s a reason I practice abstinence. I can not trust myself around naked men. These guys were built. I’ve never seen a 12+ inch wang in person, but there it was.

Third, and most concerning, NO ONE TOLD ME THESE GUYS ASSAULT AT WILL.

I was promised a seat in the back, which turned out to be a seat in the 2nd row. My first inkling that I was not safe, was when one of the strippers grabbed my friend two seats down, and basically hung her around his neck and bopped her against his crotch across the room. I should also tell you that this guy was about 5’4, and my friend is 5’9.

My second inkling, was when the next stripper climbed onto the chair that my friend in front of me was sitting in, and ran the head of his penis from her neck to her rosy, rosy bosoms.

I’ll write a full recap some other time when I have more brain cells and when I have digested the whirlwind that was this weekend, but let me tell you, I’ve decided that I’ve never had good sex. If a man can 69 you while doing a headstand on the edge of the chair you’re sitting in, then you know you’ve had good sex.

Also, I witnessed a teabag ownage. I’m not afraid of the devil, but I am afraid of getting owned by a teabag to the face.

WangCom

What? That’s right.

WangCom.

As in, Wang Convention.

That’s 13 girls mostly born and bred in the midwest where drinking started with whiskey when they teethed, will test the gods of Alcohol Tolerance as they terrorize a wang club. This will be one of those trips where the universe will regret not having sent a camera crew. I’ve got about $60 in ones that I plan to distribute to the girls in hopes of buying leniency. I’m terrified that may not be enough.

I am praying for strength and a wicked sense of humor to survive this weekend. And if I can get away with it, wang that isn’t covered in baby oil.

The evil twin is just an electrical little imp.

This is what happened at the gym.

To preface, this guy I’ve caught watching me for months now showed up and played on Saturday. I was surprised because he’s never confronted me. We’ve always just remained aware of each other on the peripheral with no attempt at contact. He was kind of walking into my territory.

So here’s the thing that surprised me. He was such a little bitch. He kept falling down and refusing to get up. I offered my hand once and he wouldn’t take it. C’mon, I’ll help you up, I said with my hand extended. No, I’m 30, I’m old, he said. I waved him off and said, Whatever. But he kept falling down and refusing to get up because he was old. Finally, I told him that I’m 30, (pointed to B), He’s 30, (pointed to another guy), He’s 30. You don’t see any of us on the ground.

He tried to play harder the rest of the game, more aggressive. I drove to the basket at one point and crashed into someone, coming down on their foot. Something I’ve found to always work with injuries is…Ignore Them. At least at first. Like refuse the existence of this reality. So I got up and walked it off, willing it from a bad ankle sprain to a tweak. Well, whatever he thinks he saw, he’s fixated on. He keeps asking people if they saw how fast I got up. It was the last thing he asked me that day, and then the FIRST thing he asked me the next day when I saw him. How did you get up so fast, he asked. Pain’s mental, I told him. Unless something’s really not working, pain, fear….they’re all mental. So he insisted that I play and that he had to guard me. I posted up on him my first play and he flopped like I’d bashed him in the balls. Don’t act like your dick is so big I couldn’t miss it, I said to him, helping him up. His eyes go wide, that little faker. Who says something like that????, he yells. But no one’s heard it but him. In my heart I am snickering.

Next play he gets the ball but he’s afraid to shoot. He waves it above his head so I just knock it out of his hands, not being afraid to crash into his body a little. Who does that??? he screams. I kind of want to laugh at how easy he’s being, but I just say, very seriously, You should think about playing a little defense. Pass the ball upcourt. Take off.

We score and we come back and he can’t get open. His guy shoots, misses, rebound collected in a battle of big vs big. I set up left wing. My poor little guy doesn’t know that my driveway allowed me only a single angle of left wing jump shots to help me waste away my childhood. Meaning– I can be deadly there if I’m feeling evil enough. And man was I feeling evil. I hit one over him. Next time down. I stopped and popped at the 3 point line, shooting over him as he jumped for the block. Went in sweet like Kobe. There’s a collective, Whoa. His teammate runs by him. She’s making you look real bad, he says, not altogether joking. Well, at least he’s honest, I tell him as I shrug innocently and jog downcourt. Secretly, I know I’m really not usually this good. I’m playing particularly inspired today. But I realize the universe has somehow given me free reign against this guy.

Our team won both games against his. At some point, every time I went near him in the post, he resorted to announcing that if we were in 3rd grade, he would think I liked him. As adults, I think you’re projecting, I told him. After the game, I left abruptly to do cardio and watch my Desperate Housewives DVD. While on the elliptical machine, I noticed something. Somehow, the evil imp in me was so inspired by messing with him, the energy must have made me more noticeable. I’m usually for the most part ignored by the guys. It probably goes both ways, because I usually completely ignore them. But while on the machine, every guy who had been on my team came over to chat with me and find out what I was watching. One guy even had to circle twice before having the nerve to introduce himself. It was funny because it’s like we’d been to battle together, yet after the fact, we were so shy and awkward with each other. Interesting.

Meanwhile, my shadow has followed me into the cardio room. Little does he know, I “listen” to my DVDs more than I watch because I’m usually watching people. Especially people who are so obviously watching me. So this is what I saw him do.

1. He left the basketball courts, looked around, then proceeded to the weight room. Saw me, walked by in front of me into the locker room.

2. Comes out of the locker room, stands close to me, fiddles with his phone, goes back into the locker room.

3. Comes out of the locker room, has his jacket on and walks by. I pretended I didn’t notice.

4. He walks by again. I smile and he comes up and asks me how I can still be going. I say, Because I’m a robot. That’s why Asians are so smart. (This making up shit on the fly to see if people will accept what I say if I’m very serious about it. It’s out of control). He’s caught off guard so he says, I know a lot of Asians who aren’t smart. Well I’m not one of them, I say. He laughs while backpedaling into the locker room. There are definitely Asians who aren’t smart he says. I’ve even dated a few of them. I roll my eyes and ignore him. Wait, didn’t he just come OUT of the locker room?

5. He walks by again, not wearing his jacket. He fiddles with his phone, then watches the TV close to me. He catches my eye, then comes up and asks, What are you watching? Desperative Housewives, I say. Now I’ve seen everything, he exclaims, but I have no idea what he means by that. Why do you watch it?, he asked. What is he, a Pisces? Maybe I finally get to kick a Pisces’ ass. Because it’s funny, and people kill each other on the show but it’s supposed to be funny. Like Stepford Wives. He looks at me blankly. Abruptly walks away. INTO the locker room. Someone tell me, what is IN the locker room that forces this man to continually go there to recharge?

6. I switch to a bike after 50 minutes on the elliptical. I see him walking back and forth in the machine row in front of me, and then he fiddles with his phone right next to me for a while. I ignore him the entire time though I’m kind of giggling inside as I watch him. Then he goes to the weight area right in front of me, and lifts up his shirt to check his abs (full-flexed), checking to see if I saw. Of course I was at that moment, strategically drinking from my water bottle so from his angle, he couldn’t tell where my eyes were. He walked around aimlessly, said hi to the guy next to me, then got on the elliptical machine behind me. So I stayed on the bike for as long as possible to test his stamina, then beelined from the locker room to the parking lot to make a clean get away. Didn’t want him trying to catch up with me.

*****
I went to the gym today with a lot on my mind. I had forgotten all about this. I decided I was going to play fullcourt, which I’m doing a lot more lately. Before, I would be afraid of getting hurt but I figured I wouldn’t play too hard. Just for the opportunity to run and feel agile. I was standing at entrance of the court, when someone walked up and said hi to me.

It was this short, quiet guy who I always thought was kind of a dick. I don’t really know him but he just doesn’t smile. And he’s never said a word to me even though I’ve said hi. Guys like these…I just assume they hate me, just so there’s no wondering. So yeah I know, a lot of it is just in my head.

So I say hi, and he says, I can’t really play today because I don’t have the right shoes on. He’s got really nice running shoes on. What does that say about me that I get turned on by athletic gear? I say, I’m not wearing the right shoes either, even though in my mind I know I have the same shoe style I play basketball in but these I only wear if I’m only doing cardio because I like how they’re so clean. Is this what it feels like to be a Virgo in love?

You’re very good, I say. I like watching you play. He
mumbles something. We stand there and I forget he’s there. I’m wondering if the guy on the other side of the court that I’m going to be teammates with is a dick. Yeah, he kind of looks like he’s gonna be. Suddenly, the quiet guy touches my arm and I look over. See you later, he says, smiling. I was tweaked for a moment. That guy smiled. I’ve never seen him smile. And I’ve made some warm, quirky attempts.

I decide I have at least 10 more minutes so I go outside to see if I can get a cardio machine to warm up. I see he’s waiting for a machine, stretching. Part of me felt like it was okay to go talk to him. Part of me is SCARED OF HIM. So I kind of get caught in a jamble of limbs and misdirection. I don’t know if he saw me make that abrupt u-turn away from him, but I retreat back into the basketball court to wait my turn.

I played but not very hard because I really didn’t want to get hurt. My foot was bothering me but I did score one basket and annoy the hell out of my defender with a game of cat & mouse (cuz let’s be serious, those afternoon ballers don’t pass to me). There were times when he would be at the top of the key looking around, and I’d be hiding in a corner, feet set for an easy basket should my teammates realize I’m on their team. It was definitely fun and I didn’t care about getting touches. I also got to know this sweet kid who had a tattoo of the Ace of Wands. I ask him, what are you, a Leo or Aries? He said, my mom gave me the symbol of the Ace of Wands because I used to get in a lot of trouble. Ace of Wands means having a lot of inner fire, but using it creatively, I say. Yeah!, he smiles. We share a nice little moment. I’m the Princess of Swords, I say. We shake hands. For the rest of the games, we have great chemistry.

Somewhere into the second game, my Shadow walks in. I see him and nod hello. The strange thing is he’s with his doofus friend and the little, quiet guy from earlier. I didn’t realize they knew each other. They formed a little cheering section for me, yelling, Give it to the girl! and him commenting to everyone, Did you see that?…every time I got myself open. After the last game, I was kind of pissed off at my teammates for not moving the ball better and for spending so much time arguing (one more fight broke out). I was shooting by myself and the three guys come up. And they’re all hitting on me. What did this guy need, reinforcements? They’re joking that I should stick to my outside shot and that I’m too young to drive. The guy wants me to guard him and I do it half-heartedly. The quiet guy, who’s strangely jovial, pretends he’s going to walk off with my ball. wtf? Circle jerk. So when the full court game started, I had to rebound the ball to get it back and walked out. They all followed me out, and I stopped because it looked like they wanted to talk to me, but then decided to do it after I got my stuff from the locker room. I actually wanted to talk to the little guy to feel out his vibe. He had caught me off guard today, and I want to know why. But when I came out, he was gone but my Shadow and his buddy were there. His friend said something to me that I didn’t even bother translating to my brain. He’s kind of a snarky idiot. As I was choosing a bike, this black guy walked up. Strangely, he looked just like this guy I dreamed about 3 nights ago but just not as intelligent (in my dream, he was in a park around Stanford and he was radiant. But of course, this was probably because I have such a Stanford fetish). He wanted to introduce himself and get to know me. My Shadow walks by and then loudly came over and shook the guy’s hand saying, what’s up. I didn’t even look at him. I talked to the new guy for a bit. We were talking about attention span and he wanted to know if I’d gone to school and finished. So I said yeah, two degrees in three years. I rushed to finish before I got bored. He asked me if I was taking drugs to be able to do that. I said no, and then politely excused myself. I rode the bike and as usual, my Shadow appeared, standing 3 feet away from me and diddling with his phone and pretending to watch TV. Of course, I pretended not to notice.

He retreated to the elliptical behind me. I slipped out like I did the night before, careful to make sure I wasn’t being followed.

Came home. Confused. Tired. Lonely. The imp has abandoned me. Body looks great. Insides feel robotic. Tired of games. Why don’t most guys talk to me like a normal person? Help me put my defenses down. Come up and be straight with me and be yourself. Just be nice and open without all the sarcasm, because then we’re just going to spar. It’s like sometimes people seem so into trying to compete with me or dominate me or impress me by being something else, that I’m terrified of showing them the shy, sensitive side of myself because I’m afraid they’ll eat it. And that’s the best side. I feel like if they found out that I was shy, they would see it as a weakness. So then is it better that most people don’t believe it anyway? But when I meet someone real who’s willing to talk like human beings and it’s not all that bullshit, I really appreciate it, even if it’s platonic.

I’m really just looking for someone trustworthy who I can relax and be myself around. At the end of the day, just that.

The problem with going about things alone is that you go about them alone. You don’t have frame-of-references or reality checks. Only the slight satisfaction of seeing when things work out.

I don’t know what happened today. I took a big risk. I took a really big risk. It felt good. I was fired up. But this is where life can stab me. I’m going to say, don’t worry. Either way, whatever happens, it will be the right thing.

Tomorrow may just be the first day of the rest of my life.

Is it still a secret if you tell people about it openly and they think you’re kidding?

I live a pretty chill secret life. All I need is some good music, some trust in my iTunes shuffle, a fire going in the fireplace as I sit in the dark, and a whole night free for stream of consciousness as inspired by music.

Now playing: Silent Treatment – The Roots

I went out dancing tonight. Told Brian I was going to see There Will Be Blood but when I got to the theater, I just couldn’t make myself park my car. So I made a u-turn and went to Zanzibar, which is really where I wanted to go tonight. They spin hip hop, funk, r&b and house on Sundays, and I’ve been trying to make it out for years. Had a Kurant/tonic and people watched for a bit. Met a guy named David who wanted to dance. Lied and said I’d sprained my ankle playing basketball. Word?, he said. How’d you do it? I dunked on someone, I said. He wanted me to dance with him but I was friendly but kind of ignored him. He introduced me to his friends. They stood around me and I realized it made me look like I’d shown up with a big black entourage. I excused myself to get another drink. White guys have no rhythm but I still have this urge to gun for them. One guy looked like Chris Evans. I was down. Had a moment at the bar, then danced on my own. Caught him eyeing me but looked like the type who needs liquid courage. Meanwhile, turned down a brutha who claimed he’d seen me 2 weeks ago at Firecracker. In fact, I was at Firecracker. But he couldn’t pin down what I was wearing so I accused him of not being able to tell Asian girls apart. He said he could then said, “You’re mixed, right?” No, I say. I’m full. He thinks. “Korean?” Nope, I say. That’s 3 strikes…you’re out. I really just wanted to dance by myself so I turned him down politely again and danced on my own. Dumb white guy came up. Asked me what my name was. I told him I didn’t remember. He asked me, how cute are you. What’s the rating system, I asked. A good one, he said. How cute are you? You already asked me that, I said. Where are you from?, he asked. Everywhere, I said. He looked at me blankly. How cute are you, he says. Go away, I say.

I stay for about an hour dancing with myself. Guys are looking and for the most part, they left me alone. I wanted to stay longer but I figured, let’s leave on a good note. So I headed out, head buzzing with a successful night out.

Now playing: Rock you – Roots

I don’t know what to do. I recognize that I’d have to sacrifice certain things if I want to be more engaged with people. But I really love my time alone. That’s when a lot of incredible things happen. I love kicking down walls. I have always been naughty at heart.

Now playing: Like I Love You – Justin Timberlake

It’s time I get back to writing. I realized last night, I do not work for a producer. The producer works for me. That’s the relationship that I need because in the end, I need to be the decisionmaker.

Now playing: Reptile – NIN

I wouldn’t mind being a robot, living in some converted warehouse loft downtown with exposed electrical wiring. I would just host parties with the craziest people I could manage to gather in one room. I would give them lots of drugs and then watch them duke it out. I wouldn’t be scared of the sheer collective insanity of these parties because I would be a robot. So nothing penetrates me. But if Marilyn Manson showed up, I would call him a dork. I would call him a big dork poser, and he would probably cry, because he’s really not that confident in himself.

Now playing: She Wants to Move – N.E.R.D.

I like to dance alone because it’s hard for me to find good dance partners that I feel comfortable enough with to sync up. And I love watching good dancers. One thing I hate about Clippers games is their dance team. They’re like a JV team and inevitably every game, there will be at least one girl who goes the wrong way. I love it.

Now playing: Queer – Garbage

Oh, this song. I always said this is my stripper song. It tickles something inside of me that just feels so diiiiirty. I’m sure there are all kinds of implications if you psychoanalyze it, but I’ve offered it up many times as a theory and at the end of the day, if you get involved it means you’re dirty, too….so why not. This song is second on this album only to Milk. I think I’ve probably logged hundreds of hours my senior year of high school with this album playing on my computer as I chatted with strangers online. That was a weird period of my life. I don’t know how someone could be so simultaneously naive and such an asshole. Gemini’s, I guess. “You can touch me if you want…”

Now playing: Last Girl on Earth – Supreme Beings of Leisure

Why did I rush through college the way I did? I was really frustrated. My family was falling apart and there was so much drama I had to come back and handle it. And then that whole thing with that guy who wasn’t worth it, and my needing to prove to the assholes on the newspaper that I was smarter than them. Man, I was so emotional back then. So I made that decision. I would definitely have wished I were as chill as I am now back then. I think I would have had a lot more fun and really gained confidence in my capabilities. But you know…you make it work. Every decision in life, you make it work. Because there’s no alternative. There was definitely a different energy in my house five years ago than now. I’ve gotta work on the arrangement to ease the energy so it’s a chill place again.

Now playing: The New Polution – Beck

I listened to this album so much my freshman year in college. I remember coming home for the holidays and finding out Beck was playing with the Eels and some other people in this ensemble concert, so I didn’t even know where the Cow Palace was, but I got in my car, started driving and found it. I always had that knack. I had never attended concerts alone before that and it was really cool. I enjoyed the music, and the fact I was having this amazing experience that no one else knew about. I got an autograph on a postcard from E from the Eels, but in the mess of the dance floor, I dropped it. It didn’t really matter to me, though. Beck was insane, with his white sequined jumpsuit and crazy bass player. It didn’t occur to me until the drive home that it might have been dangerous to have driven so far to go to a concert by myself without telling anyone. I guess I’m like that. The sense of adventure outweighs any fears.

Now playing: Dream Machine – Mark Farina

I fare so much better when I’m out of town. I’m much more social and open. I wonder if it has to do with feeling so out of place in LA, so I feel very self-conscious. I wonder if I’ll fare better moving to the bay area, or I’ll find out I’m just as shy up there as I am here or anywhere. How the hell can I be so outgoing and yet, so shy? Engage me in conversation and I’m the brightest, most excited person there. But try to get to know me and it’s a stumbling retreat. I’m just so careful in choosing the people I let get close to me.

Now playing: Tone 10 – Takumi Kato

This song is boring.

Now playing: Blisters On My Brain – Lo-Fidelity Allstars

I’ve been trying to cuss less. I recognize it’s passive aggressive and something I developed since being frustrated with work. It’s a bad habit though.

Now playing: Six Feet Under Main Theme – Photek

One of the best shows ever. It taught me a lot about life and relating to others. Fantastic production and acting. Introduced me to Sia’s solo work.

Now playing: Your Ghost – Kristin Hersh

The ghost story I was writing…I never finished it. I just kept getting scared going there. Until I had an even scarier ghost dream. Maybe that world will seem safer now.

cool thing i noticed this week. a lot of people i saw were glowing. like their skin looked good, their eyes looked bright…they were happy. or maybe they got laid. maybe they always look like that and i haven’t noticed it before, but because i was so aware of my happiness this week, i was able to notice it in other people. good for them.

this month, every day has been a new experience, in that something new happens every day. small discoveries that shock me when i realize they’ve been there all along but i’ve never noticed. old acquaintances who suddenly seem new. i see all these little sparks of recognition everywhere. maybe that’s what february is about. sparks of life. hope. a change in direction. meaning march is gonna be a moody little fella, but he’s going to have a lot to say.

friday.

left work early at 3 to play basketball at the gym. played with a one-armed man who was fantastic. i was on his team and we celebrated every basket he made like it was the tying basket in a champsionship game. he had heart and played gritty. he made me happy.

met up with the michigan crew at a bar called firecracker in chinatown. i got there a little early so i had some time to hang out. there was a jazz band in the corner and a tiny old bar that reminded me of those sad, empty affairs we used to play in while our parents held banquets in the restaurants next door. i sat at the bar and saw the bartender was a crickety old chinese lady like the dragon lady in all those war movies from the 50’s. she looked like the type of lady you order a mai tai from, so that’s what i ordered.

the portland/knicks game was on silently in the corner, competing with the jazz. i heard the girl next to me scream and pump her arms in the air when portland scored, catching the attention of the entire room. then she leaned over to her group and explains, i’m from portland. they all act politely impressed, one girl saying, wow, i didn’t know that. followed by an awkward silence. the guy asks her, do you think portland’s current run is a fluke or do you think they can keep it up? she looks at him blankly, then says, uh…i’m just from portland. and everyone nodded their heads and politely agreed. i figured these people knew each other from work.

i liked watching the game with live jazz in the background. i could care less about the knicks but their winning would have helped my warriors. so i was intent on the game, going out of my way to ignore any eye contact with anyone at the bar, while simultaneously im-ing with my mom who had gone to the warriors game that night and wanted to tell me about it.

my group showed up and i was informed there was a second floor. so we left the cozy confines of the jazz club, and traveled up the stairs somewhat oxymoronically into someone’s basement.

the upstairs of this bar looked exactly like someone’s basement in new jersey, circa 1982. there’s a tiny dance floor with a disco ball, surrounded by couches and a small bar. serving drinks that night, was a guy in a facemask decked out like a ninja suicide bomber.

we sat in a booth in the very back of the room, watching the dancers trying to figure out the dj’s rhythm. they guy was either sadistic, or using this venue to practice, because he would throw out these beats and just as the dancers figured it out, he’d switch to something completely different and off. if the people on the dance floor were sims, they would have had big question marks over their heads, but they were determined to figure this guy out.

i hung out for a while but got tired. i wanted to get up early the next day to shoot baskets by myself. on the drive home, i took the streets. had radiohead with street spirit vibrating the car. a guy at a stoplight in koreatown asked me if i knew where hill st was. he looked about 23. i told him man, it’s waaaaay back there! and he laughed and said, cool, thanks. we both rolled up our windows. i turned my music back up. he needed to make a u-turn to get to hill st but instead, drove alongside me for a few miles. finally, he smiled and waved at me as he made a turn and headed back in the direction we came.

drove through downtown, koreatown, west hollywood, beverly hills, century city. saw a police road block, a construction crew and a man getting pulled over. entertained the notion of getting something to eat, but didn’t see anything crowded enough for me to want to stop. thought about not stopping at my house and taking a little drive up north of the 405 to explore those neighborhoods there. decided it was late. went to bed. dreamed of the ocean, people the size of ants, and beethoven.

sat.

got up so late. damn those dreams of beethoven. but i really felt like i was getting to know the man.

took some of this n.o. explode that brian had gotten at gnc and it made me crazy high, like there was juice running through my muscles and it was all systems go in my control room. I could see the basket so clearly, and i felt like my legs were springs. i still have terrible focus when i’m close to the basket though, because i’m actively aware of people under me and wanting to know where their feet are. i have to protect my knees. but overall, i felt like an athlete flying on a banned substance.

the group i like to play with was already there. then candice, the lesbian, and her friend showed up. candice used to play saturday mornings years ago, and she was a hurtling cannonball of fierce. she’s in her 50’s but she takes basketball seriously, and she’s not afraid to take you down. she used to play with her girlfriend and this really tall woman who had played at nortwestern, and it was always fun, but you were always worried that she would hurt you or hurt herself. but i like playing with her. she likes talking to me a lot. quite a lot. she likes talking to me with her face really close to me, so close that i smell the mint on her breath as if it were coming from me. it makes me uncomfortable, and sometimes, i pretend i’m protecting her from a rebound coming towards us by running for it, when really i’m trying to create space.

i had a lot to do to prepare for super bowl and then my business trip next week, so i left and ran errands. but all i really did was stroll around the mall, irritated that i had to be at a mall, then get a massage. i had wanted to go out to san gabriel for dinner but ended up getting something at the hong kong cafe down the street and headed home to figure out my life.

seattle and i need to talk.

i need more romance in my life. i feel like the analytical, detached side of life has been taking over.

Hump Day

As I continue my job search, I’ve decided that one of the requirements I have is that my next company be large enough to field a company softball team. And give out free sodas, though this isn’t a deal breaker. The bad side of working at a big company would be people who continually make jokes about “hump day” and who exuberantly adore casual Fridays. I also have a phobia of awkward lunchroom small talk. Especially if it’s about people’s cats. Even more especially if these cats wear hand-knitted sweaters.

I want some place where I can continually meet new people and get to know professional, intelligent people from different backgrounds who are active and into sports outside of work. Mostly I just want to meet new people. I’ve seen the same 8 people for the last 4 years 40 hours a week. Nice people, but I’m bored out of my mind.

Yet in the back of my mind, I also want to open my dessert shop, write in my free time and travel. It makes me sad to think of going from one “job” to another “job.” What keeps me back is risk. Sometimes I wonder if my need for financial security is pathological.

My parents are convinced that if I would move to a larger company, I’ll find my future husband, since everyone in my family who’s worked at their company has gotten married to a coworker. I’m not opposed to a hot but dorky engineer or accountant with an appreciation for quirky senses of humor. Hell, I’m all about mathematicians right now since I’ve been marathoning Numb3rs. But I don’t want to get my hopes up too high because I feel so far out of the game, I feel more comfortable roving the seedy underbelly and dark alleys of the city.

That may or may not be true.

But I am bored as hell with life right now. And very concerned about how I’ve cut myself off from writing. I’m hoping that having rescued my blog, this will slowly get me back on track. I’m in recovery from the whole stalker thing and how irritated it made me feel, so the more truthful details about what I’ve been up to I’m still keeping in notebooks until I figure out how what I want to do about access.

This blog still isn’t complete. I have a month and a half left to import from the old blog and then I’ll change the background color back to its normal color.

So what’s new.

Webber back with the Warriors. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst.

Family is getting along exceptionally. I fear Michael has outgrown me and my antics. I feel spurned sometimes. I’m happy that he’s moving on though and so much more independent.

Am still open to moving back to the bay, but reluctant to move out of LA. It’s like I want to walk out the door, but I won’t let go of my stuff. And by stuff, I mean, all the restaurants that I love or those I have yet to try, and especially the places that are open late. Also, the thought of having to pack up my things and move them to a new place and hope they didn’t get lost or damaged in transit gives me anxiety.

I think deep down I also know that it’s not LA that makes me lonely, but I don’t want to face the fact that I’ll manage to feel lonely everywhere. The problem was never LA, even though it’s so easy to blame this city and then be done with it. It’s that I love and appreciate my friends and the people around me here, but I also really need and love spending a certain amount of time with myself. So what I’ve sacrificed for this space and detachment is that sometimes I feel lonely, but I feel like my freedom is worth it. Maybe a different environment or a new path in my life would change things. Change my needs and my priorities. I don’t know. I’m open to it though, as long as it feels right and not forced.

I found out that I’m hosting a Super Bowl party this Sunday. I thought it was funny that I found out via a group email and I wasn’t even one of the first to know. I want to try out making home made pizza rolls, either with pizza dough or eggroll wrappers. It depends if I have time to try it out first.

I’ve got a couple of free Southwest tickets so that means I have 2 sponteneous trips coming up. I’m actually glad I checked my email and found out that I’m hosting a party this weekend, because I was thinking about taking off to some place random that I’ve never been. Maybe St. Louis. Maybe Albuquerque. Maybe even the Super Bowl. Get down with the people. Find some inspiration.

I wanted to try an experiment. To go to the gym every day for a week with a t-shirt that says, “What’s that smell?” Then go one day with another shirt that says, “No seriously, what’s that smell?” To see if anyone notices. People around me just seem so stressed or preoccupied in general. I want to see someone smiling.

Maybe it’s the weather and the new year and the economy. Or maybe I’m just out of sync right now.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22857051

Hmmm.

I think the correct term would be: yippie ki yay.

I’m back.

The weirdest thing happened.

The writers went on strike. And I stopped writing.

It’s like a sychronicity took hold.

I thought it was because I had a stalker, but truthfully, it’s nice to have a more secret hiding place.

So here I am. In my new home.

It’s been raining this whole week and I’ve been equal parts miserable, equal parts enthralled. There’s something spiritual about the rain. My mom comments many times that I’ve inherited her love of rain. Maybe there are things passed down through generations, something more abstract than genetics. Maybe souls have families, too.

So what have I been up to?

Man, I don’t even know where to start.

I fell of the face of the earth. Went into super privacy mode, trying to be a ghost. When people forget that you participate in this drama we call life, they start letting you move through their world like shadows. So I’ve been watching people and understanding those little things about life that you take for granted.

The funny thing is that people have these immediate reactions to me. They’re convinced that who they’re seeing is a living, breathing person, when I’m giving them a mask. They believe that this person I’m projecting exists. And their conviction is so strong, that I’m able to watch them interact with my projection almost as a silent observer.

The thing that I’m most awed by is how complexly simple humans are. There’s almost a beauty about their naivete, about their straightforward earnestness. You see their challenges, you see their fears, but at the end of the day, there’s this need to move forward and find a positive light to it all. Then there are people who want to take these things away from people, to take away that simplicity, to destroy that innocence. The more I watch of human interaction, the more I feel protective of people, and the more I appreciate individuality and uniqueness.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my past, my accumulated experiences, and trying to find the meaning to it all. If I were to write the movie of my life, what genre would it be and what kind of themes would it have. What is the dominant storyline? Is it one girl’s struggle in a hostile environment, all the while trying to protect her vulnerable brother. Or is it the wanderer who explores life like an anthropologist, always reluctant to get involved? Is it about an alien trapped in a host body, struggling to find its way home. Or is it a quirky romantic piece about the introspective loner who finds love in the most unexpected of places? Is it a dark comedy, as I once thought it was, or is it an independent drama full of hope and angst. Will there be car explosions? Or stuntmen needed to fall through glass windows. Will there be a leading man, or a tragic love triangle? Maybe it will be passionately explosive, or maybe it will be repressive, cold and brimming with repressed lust, where just the passing touch of skin on skin makes your entire body shudder. Maybe it will be more bitter than sweet, or maybe in an improbable twist, it turns out more sweet than bitter. Maybe everything wraps up nicely in a neat little box, or maybe there’s room left for a sequel. But no matter what, just adhere to three act structure, and only the necessary, significant characters should have lines of dialogue. Watch the plants to be paid off later, and make sure your characters have distinct voices so you can explore them all. Do lots of scenes where you’re looking pensively into a mirror, and maybe throw in a gun or two. But no matter what, make the movie truthful. Because at the end of the day, an audience can always sniff out bullshit.

Plaid

Go see them live. They’ve got this show that pairs electronic soundscapes with visual art that’s pretty mindblowing. Go see them if only so you can tell me if their shows are really just covert mass brainwashing sessions.

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=81698925

And if you’re in LA, make sure you check out a show at the Disney Concert Hall. Just saw Plaid there and it was one of the best nights of my life that I’ll never be able to adequately describe to anyone. That place is a temple of worship.

changes

So when I get stressed out, my Gemini brain will hide it from me, so I can cruise along day by day without realizing anything is bothering me. It never occurs to me that my sudden shoulder stiffness and onset of insomnia may have anything to do with stress. I never factor in that the worst of it tends to occur on Sunday nights, as I prepare to tackle another week at work. I just think, that’s weird…are these things related? And then become fixated on the nearest thing that’s shiny.

But now I’m realizing I’ve been pretty stressed out.

So this is how it started.

Last year I was flying so high. I ejected from a relationship that drove me crazy, not because my partner wasn’t a nice, kind individual, but because it wasn’t It. I realized how easy it could have been to commit to something that’s “not that bad” for the rest of my life, but instead, I left so I could leave myself open to something awesome. I started living like someone with a new lease on life…traveling, standing up to my erratic boss, trying new things (surfing, cliff jumping, Toastmasters). It was electric. Turning 29, I decided, this is the year I make sure that I build my life right for the rest of my life, so I started shedding things and people in my life that weren’t good for me, and welcoming in things that felt more positive and empowering. By the time 30 rolled around, I figured I’d be set. I’d have taught myself superpowers by then. I’d have hired a celebrity fashion designer to design me a cape, because that’s the kind of person I would be at 30. Someone who wears a cape every day.

But then I guess after new year’s, it dawned on me that I’m turning 30 this year and what the hell was I doing turning goddam 30. I started getting some minor anxieties, like why I’m still at the spec level with my writing because I’ve got this perfectionist streak in me of wanting to accrue writing samples like pirate booty before I go out with it, yet I never feel like I have enough to go out. I thought about how I’ve spent 4 and half years at a job I didn’t think I’d last more than two months at back in 2003, because the place is a neverending season of The Office but with more porn and more dirty, dirty sexual innuendos from coworkers than the average professional could possibly tolerate if I weren’t so detached by personality and in love with the witty comeback. Plus, I like that it pays me a lot of money, which in turn, makes me feel like a money slut. I thought about my love of stuff, and if I’ll ever read those user manuals so I can learn how to use my stuff, or if I’ll finally date someone smart enough to program my gadgets for me. And then I thought about my dear attachment to being single.

I think I have a preference for being single because my number one priority is protecting my personal freedom and not getting into any restricting, unfulfilling situations I can’t get out of. I enjoy spending time alone (is any Gemini really ever alone?) and I would rather be my own company than be with bad or even worse, boring company. But I’m open to a good relationship and am willing to settle down if something feels right. And I’m always open to friends. Not small talk friends. But interesting conversation and we-get-each-other friends. But then I look around at this city I’ve spent 9 years in, and I’m so aware of how hard it is to meet people I can relate to, how hard it is to find people you can just be yourself with, even at a platonic level. A part of me longs for the bay area, where strangers are much more approachable and there’s always interesting conversations and ideas buzzing around. I started going up north for the weekends, and as soon as my family caught wind that I’m open to the idea of moving back, it’s been like college scouts recruiting a high school prospect–I’ve got family and friends calling and telling me about the wonderful benefits of living in the bay area, and people giving me ideas of where to search for a job. I feel like I’ve been a big cocktease now if I don’t move back. But I’m not sure that’s the solution.

I’m open to moving up there, but I’m also reluctant to give up on LA. If I move now, I’ll feel like I wasted 9 years searching for something/someone that I never found. I’ll feel like I gave up just as I was on the verge of finding it. But am I just being stubborn, refusing to cut my losses?

This desire to move also comes on the heels of issues at work that have me despondent. I just hit a point of frustration where I don’t care anymore. It’s like drowning. You struggle and you struggle, but at some point, if you just give in, everything goes silent and you find a sort of ironic peace. I’ve decided it’s time to leave, but I don’t know where I want to go yet, because I feel like the next step is a very important one.

Ideally, I want to take time off and travel. I want to do what I like to do, which is meet new people in new places and write about it. Learn about life. About different perspectives. Explore different aspects of myself. Be whoever I want to be at any given moment. Reopen my blog without fear of crazy stalkers. Develop creative business partnerships. Get involved in something I believe in that engages both my business/logical side and my creative side.

So this struggle has been going on…do I stay put, do I move to the bay area, do I find another job in LA, or do I give myself up to my creative, adventurous impulses and go gather the inspiration for my writing by getting myself out and about within life and make money worries secondary. Our am I at an age where it’s too late, because I’m too old for this shit?

I had insomnia all week for the first time in about 5 years. I started having nightmares which is so, so rare. In one of them, I got a call that my grandmother who lives in San Francisco had died (I don’t have a grandmother who lives in San Francisco). In my dream, I’m her only living relative, so I go up north to make arrangements. I spend a night in her small apartment in the city, in this really old building. In the middle of the night, the phone rings and it’s a little boy. He talks to me like he knows me, and I feel like I should know who he is. Then he tells me he’s scared, there’s a ghost with him, another little boy. Then he puts the ghost on and I could hear electrical buzzing as he spoke, the equivalent of chilling the noise frequencies the way ghosts will chill the air. The little boy told me he needed help, and that he was faxing me a picture of himself. I stayed on the line and checked my fax machine, and a picture of a little boy with brown hair came through. Then as another page came through, he told me he was sending me a picture of the ghost. I glanced down at the paper coming through but I looked away quickly because it scared me. All I saw was something blurry, a dark mass, ominous. I started getting really scared in my dream, and had to will myself out of it by telling myself it’s not that scary and that I was in my home in Los Angeles. But it was. Maybe I’ll write something about it. I get a lot of my story ideas from dreams. But I’ve been trying not to think about it. All I know was it made me not want to move into an old building in San Francisco.

I think it’s time for me to get moving again. Wherever I’m going, whatever happens, I think there are some things in my life that need to change, starting with work, involving less Minesweeper, and ending with “pimping harder.”

displaced

My thoughts have been displaced while I move my blog from one location to another. My creative side feels like it’s living out of a self-storage unit. Thus my blogging here now while I wait.

How’ve I been? Bored. Really bored. I get a lot of thought done though. I’ve come to an understanding about human evolution and our next step if our physical environments aren’t sustainable. I’ve examined how we are moving towards human psychological sub-species and how it affects the social trajectory. I practice a math exercise with license plate numbers in traffic so I can train my mind to recognize gestalt patterns before calculating the sum of the parts. I spend a ridiculous amount of time at the gym seemingly watching dvds on the cardio machines, but where I’m simultaneously watching storylines develop between strangers.

Maybe I’m in a period of download. I’m definitely seeing and learning new things about what it means to be human for other people, having new understandings every day. I’m trying to let myself relax to reveal more of myself to others, yet when I do, it reveals more confusing and inconsistent facets. But the difference is, I’m having more fun exploring them and giving myself permission to commit to it.

So it’s raining and I love the rain. I think the feeling of inspiration is so electrical that when it rains, it conducts more of that electricity so I feel stronger. I know I start getting really despondent if I go too long without there being rain. I’m happy that I have absolutely nothing to do this weekend, that I’m not under any projects or forcing myself to stress about unfinished projects. All I’ve done today is set the alarm for early am so I could fall asleep again to the sound of the rain, go to the gym, watch DVDs on the couch, read a random book at Barnes & Noble for an hour, then buy a small popcorn at a movie theater and head home to explore the net. It’s just the little things, being able to slow down, being able to have yourself to yourself for a period of time and savor the freedom of that…that destines a day as one of your favorite memories

Electro-cum
Current mood: electric

Happy new year.

I celebrated in San Francisco at a club that featured various dance floors, including one in the basement decked out in chilly blue light and white furniture with a dj spinning techno. It looked like either the set of a commercial for some premium russian vodka or an uber-postmodern vampire lair where getting bit gets slutty. This was playing:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClI8PX1gMyE

I’ve decided. The name of my hypothetical future-band-should-i-ever-learn-to-play-an-instrument-well has been changed from Lesbian Toolbox to Electro Cum. Which might be good because outside of thigh-high leather spiked boots and whips, I don’t see any instruments actually being mandatory.

Welcome.

Most of you don’t know me. I am someone who has escaped here from the publicity of another blog.

I am somehow by honor or moral fiber bound to tell the truth. But since I am a very secretive person, the more people who start listening to me, watching me, the more I find ways to mask it.

So I found that with people reading it, thinking they knew me, watching me, I found it very hard to be me anymore. I started to become a reaction to me, a response. And then I started disappearing.

We are lucky that we have a luxury in this day and age, to continue protecting our anonymity while continuing to communicate out into space.

I am that person, who keeps sending messages out into the universe, and hopes one day to get an answer back.

You don’t think there is other life out there? Someone who can hear you, truly understand you and for the first time, verify that you actually exist? Isn’t that all we as a species want? Just a nice pat on the head to acknowledge that we’re real so that we can settle into our relief that all of this hasn’t just been lifetimes invested into a complete childish game of pretend?

You don’t need to understand me. If you don’t, just step aside because I’m looking for some one, something, to give me an answer.

Because I’ve been pretending for a long time, pretending to be human. Pretending to have feelings and emotions the way others do. Sometimes it’s so cold and robotic in here. Sometimes I get a faint hint of warmth, the comfort of having a lizard’s heart. And sometimes, I want to wrap people up and heal all of their pain and inner devastation with the sheer intensity of my love for them that the inability to brings me to my knees.

It’s been a life time of people making sure I knew that I didn’t belong. And a life time of truly good-hearted people, those with blind faith, who believed in me, and wanted to love me.

But now, I need to know. What lays inside me? I need my mirror image, so I can finally know. Who I am.

Throughout all this bullshit in this world, all the people who will pretend they’re special to get close to you, I need everyone to be kind and/or mind their own business and step aside. I need everyone around me to be very very quiet, because I need to focus now.

I am searching for someone specific. I commit to not getting distracted. I will recognize this person when I find him. And I will trust the knowledge I will gain.

And if you will all trust me and lay down your arms, I’ll bring that knowledge back and share it with you.