I think it’s ironic that my acupuncturist has prescribed me Chinese herbs that are to be taken with wine; I’m someone who, outside of specific occasions, hates drinking. Just a small amount of alcohol will make me lethargic and give me a headache (even more ironic, is that the only thing that doesn’t make me sick is good tequila straight-up). So while most people would be ecstatic if they were prescribed alcohol, I’m sitting here, glaring at my glass of wine.
I hit up Amoeba tonight to get the Muse (Absolution) album. I was listening to it on my computer up until July when our free Real Rhapsody subscription ran out, so I thought it was about time I bought it. It’s an awesome album. Great for writing at night. I picked up a Thievery Corporation album as well. Real mellow. Great for driving at night, thinking about writing.
I can’t stop thinking about how stir crazy I am. I think I’m just starved and lonely for genuine human interaction right now. If it keeps going on like this, I’m going to make demands to crawl back into the womb (speaking of, I once accidentally freaked out my brother when he was little, when I pointed to my mom’s stomach and said, “See that? That’s where we used to live.” Good times…)
I miss Rie. I miss Muskrat. I miss Ethan. Good people.
I zoned out for 4 whole hours today. While still managing to take over $2,000 worth of orders and negotiate and approve an upcoming ad campaign in a new industry. Like I went through the motions, but the “me” that makes up “me” was off somewhere, contemplating the spiritual auras of Denver and Portland and the next thing I knew, it was past quitting time. It’s starting to creep me out how much of my days are spent on autopilot, and how functional my empty shell appears to be. What if one day, I just disappear and that’s all that’s left of me? A robot under fluorescent lights? bionic knees. just give me some bionic knees
It’s almost Fall. My favorite season. Poetry season. Reflection season. Depression season. I can’t wait.
My back has gotten better except for this seperate ball of agony in my right butt cheek that showed up around the end of July. My left side killed me from last July on, and then it switches to my right. Queer. I also think it’s strange how the appearances of these pains in my ass have coincided with relationship break ups. I don’t want to sound kooky here, but I suspect that boys, on top of being somewhat idiots, really are pains in my ass.
In Vegas, my mom and I were walking around when she said, out of the blue, “I’ve noticed that black guys really seem to take to you.” She doesn’t know that while I appreciate the aesthetic beauty of black guys and tend to openly admire them, I’m too intimidated by them to date them. She followed that with, “Just be friends, okay? Don’t marry one.” So I asked her, “How about this. Would you prefer a black guy or a woman?” She said neither and I said CHOOSE and she said, “Only a white guy or an Asian guy.” And I’m like, what the hell?? (White guys are dorks!! [just kidding. But seriously]). Though this is a conversation we have just about every time we see each other. It doesn’t concern me what she thinks. I don’t think I’ve ever been stopped from doing something I feel strongly about because of someone’s irrational objection. But in truth, no one can really choose who they fall in love with; you’ll meet many soulmates during your lifetime who come in different packages from different backgrounds, and if you’re not open to who shows up, you may miss out on a soulmate connection that could turn into a very beneficial and comfortable life partnership. I’m just looking for that thing that feels RIGHT, whoever that may be with, and I’ll probably have to deal with my own preconceived notions if that person doesn’t fall under the type I had assumed. But that’s my own problem, and a challenge I look forward to dealing with.
And furthermore, I would like both my parents to stop putting homophobic notions in my brother’s head. They are so afraid of my brother being gay, that they tell him all kinds of crap to scare him straight. I spent the three weeks he was here setting him straight (no bad pun intended) that gay people are normal people and often amazing people and it doesn’t matter who they like. Asian people care way too much about reputation. They need to stop that or I’m going to commandeer my brother.