Echo

and the echoes of…

to find the surface, you must first find the bottom.

now listening to: how to disappear completely (radiohead)

*****

i’m on the train, now leaving berlin.

kinda left a little of myself behind there, didn’t i?

there are a lot of dreams i would like to work on now.

but yet.

i have the pain of something that i want to leave behind, but physically i can’t.

it’s been so many years and today, it’s sitting here, alive and well in my present reality.

how can you not believe in ghosts.

i was sick of therapy and talking about things. most therapists are weak individuals. the problem wasn’t in the room when we talked. the problem is when i’m alone somewhere and someone wants to get close to me. and then he’s in that room with us. my ghost. and i hate it.

i can’t separate things in my mind.

how to explain how i got there. how to explain what was wrong with me that i couldn’t get him to leave. and all i could see were the knives, less than a foot behind his hands.

and he can berate me. and berate me. and berate me. and i’ll take it. but i just couldn’t get him to leave.

to be held hostage in your own home.

and what you had to give up that night and forever to trade for your freedom.

no one knows.

they know but they don’t know.

they know but they don’t know.

did it happen that way?

you don’t build your fences right. you build them too close to the home, when you were supposed to build them further out.

so afterwards, they sent me to meetings to supposedly understand my situation. i only went once. there was a woman there who talked about how her brother molested her for years, and how he’s happily married now with children while she lives in a permanent dusk. how when she confronted her brother, he denied it. and when she confessed to her mother, her mother asked her why she was trying to stir up trouble when it was so far in the past. and so all she had were these meetings for her to spin in circles. and from the bored, impatient faces of everyone involved, she obviously told the same secret every week.

what was the key out of her hell if no one was there to deal with it but herself?

some ghosts you can never shake.

some things you can’t convince yourself never happened no matter how much you try. and every day, you go about telling a lie.

you tell people a story so they can swallow your pain, because a superficial cut is easier to provide support for than something they are ill-equipped to comprehend. some depths of pain are not things people willingly welcome into their homes.

but i know.

i knew what i had to exchange for my freedom. for my safety.

there might have been another way. but i didn’t think. i couldn’t think. and still those knives. within half an arm’s reach away from his hands. his eyes bulging in anger. a tinge of mania. and still. those knives. those knives those knives those knives.

brian bought me a new set of knives when he moved in. somehow, he was completely oblivious of the symbolism of those knives, yet intuitively and without my permission, he threw them away and replaced them.

but sometimes, i look at his knives and i can’t seperate them from the others.

no one knows about what happened. what happened inside me. when a part of you sacrifices another part so that the rest may live. and what of the part that was sacrificed?

every moment that someone circles closer and closer, i await the moment when i’ll have to call him out of the darkness. and then i’ll remember.

once upon a time.

i exchanged immediate safety for a ghost that will follow me into my most intimate moments with another human being. he will always be in that room with us every time i have to go back to that place.

and no one knows.

i can not communicate it. what happened. what happens when you sacrifice. people may not understand weakness. because a man will always be stronger than a woman even if a woman has more power. and in a moment, he can break her, no matter how strong she is.

there are many types of pain that i do not fear. but to feel safe, and suddenly in the next moment–you’re back in that place with him.

but it was what i traded in order to escape. and still, those knives. those knives on the counter, within arm’s reach. those knives are a reminder that no one fully escapes once they’ve been held prisoner. it will always be a part of you, and you, a part of it.

berlin is a city filled with ghosts. it’s filled with the memory of a soul divided under its vibrance and inspiration, under its guilt and angst. but above all, it’s a city built upon a haunted psyche trying to move forward and build a new sense of self.

of course i would come here. i needed its help, a spiritual sister who’s suffered trauma under its resilient, stoic facade.

i had my breakthrough yesterday.

i understand now.

i am not the ghost.

the ghost.

his name is eli.

i trusted him but that had no value to him. he promised to make sure that no one could ever come near me because i belonged to him.

i’ve fought his grip for 7 years, becoming so powerful and expansive that he and those like him would never be able to have any power or over me. yet, he has managed to succeed in his original intention.

a person intent on evil can fulfill his intentions by haunting you in the darkest refuges of night, waiting in the shadows until the moment you feel you are safe, the moment you feel you are anonymous, the moment you feel you are whole again.

and then out of nowhere, he appears with his sword and the devil’s smile and you realize, he will always find you. because he’s inside you.

the man is dead to me.

but now, how to kill a ghost.

okay, i calmed down.

i realized i’m going to need my wits.

i was IMing with my scorpio today:

AZ says (9:16 AM):
rule #1 DONT TRUST NOBODY

Julia says (9:16 AM):
rule #2, if you got a dead hooker in the trunk, don’t speed

breathe julia.

you need to calm down.

i’ll tell you what it’s like. it’s like being able to function and go about day to day, and not once do your emotions reach your head outside of a pressure in your chest or an inkling in your mind.

and then sometimes in the quiet moments when you’re alone, you hear echoes. echoes of images, fleeting moments, emotions that had been collected throughout the day below your awareness. of people, and invitations that you didn’t see when the moment was there for you to grasp. and a longing. a longing for something more, a longing for some kind of connection even though deep down, you know you may not possess the capacity to accept it.

i had an email from david by the time i got to berlin. i expected it. i expected to read what he wrote but it still made the blood drain from my head and gave me a sinking feeling in my chest.

all i do is leave a wake of hurt and disappointment in my path.

i get lonely, then i break down and show a stranger the real me. and these strangers usually want to follow me home, want to keep me, want to intertwine our futures.

how can a man be so sure after knowing me for one day? that’s the thing i want to tell him but it’s not nice, even though it’s the truth. what he feels, i can’t vouch for because i’ve seen it too often to trust it. so many people have looked at me the way he looks at me. and they are not in my life, even though i always think about them and wonder if they’re still awake.

what i give to you
is just what i’m going through
this is nothing new
no no just another phase of finding what i really need
is what makes me bleed
like a new disease,
[he’s] still too young to treat…

(volcano – damien rice)

i am a seeker but as a person, my capabilities are limited. so fucking limited that i don’t understand how someone who can project so much warmth and love can have such an empty heart, but it’s because i seek and i share what i discover and what energy i capture, but as a person, i am not much outside of my function.

so often i feel that i am not human, but perhaps the irony is that i’m devastatingly human. so completely limited by human flaw. i stumble through life but my insides are underdeveloped, and while others can coexist with loved ones and built emotional bonds and futures, i skirt the surface and only give in one shot, one night, the dribbles of heart i’ve saved up for long stretches. and one night is often all i’ve got. i can not sustain any bonds to my insides because there is nothing for others to tie themselves to. but i keep searching, hoping that somehow, i can find a heart to put in place of the empty space where i don’t have one. so much love and warmth can radiate out of me, but no heart. i can’t understand it.

getting close to people hurts my self-esteem because as intelligent and as good at so many things as i am, as hard as i work to always be improving aspects of myself and my capabilities, nothing reminds me of how limited i am as getting close to people. having someone want things from me reminds me of how limited i am in what i can give emotionally, even though spiritually, i can give abundantly. but that’s never enough. they want emotional connection. and eventually, they want a commitment. and it makes me feel like i only disapoint people because as they get closer, they realize that beautiful oasis they thought they saw was just a mirage, and the things they felt were promised don’t even exist.

giving emotionally, feelings…it’s like trust. you can’t just say you trust someone. you either have trust in something or you don’t. you can talk around it, think around it, but it comes down to that. same thing with emotions, interpersonal love. you either have it or you don’t. and i feel it surging inside me for certain people in a spiritual sense, but when what they’re looking for is something that comes out of my chest, it’s not by my choice that there is nothing in there.

i’ve philosophized about it. i’ve tried to spin it so many ways. i’ve tried to come to terms with it as an existential quest. i’ve told people straight up that i don’t even belong to me…i belong to the universe, to a journey that i don’t always understand, but that i am committed to follow.

you can’t tell me it’s because i’m avoiding, or that i just don’t want to commit. if i could find someone that i could consistently have feelings for and it felt right to tie my future to his, then i would. i absolutely would. but so far, nothing fills that void in my chest except sharing and giving spiritual comradery, protection and knowledge.

when i meet people i care about, i end up wanting to protect them from me, but also protect me from them. i don’t want them to get too attached because they will get hurt, and i don’t want them to get too close because their disappointment will hurt me. but nothing makes me feel emptier than being close to someone.

look, why do i have these spiritual meetings with strangers that come out of the blue like a bolt of lightning. people are always asking me what i get out of it and i’ll tell you the truth–when i share a message with someone, i am filled with love for that person, a burning desire to see them free and awake, aware of their potential and how beautiful they are. i remember that love and that person i shared it with and i carry all of these experiences with me, these perfectly encapsulated moments where two strangers, two spiritual travelers, met on a dark road and shared something meaningful before continuing on their individual paths.

but to get close to someone, means giving up that moment. it means taking something magical that happened in the deepest of night to be scrutinized by the light of day. in essence, it destroys the moment…it destroys the magic.

all this may not make exact sense right now or it may sound like a load of spin to hide a commitment issue, but i’m just throwing out everything inside me while i figure it out. my thoughts on this will probably change hourly. i’m starting to see that this trip is for me to understand this aspect of myself, and either see if this is something i can change on a personal level (a psychological block), or something i have to come to terms with on a spiritual level. every person’s life path is different, and everyone’s function is different. i proved to people i can commit, but the problem is, i need to want to commit. something has to be worthy of my commitment and i only want to commit to the things that are right for me. what you are meant to do, you’ll do best, but what you do best may not necessarily be what you want to do. that’s the rule under which everything else falls. from there, you have to decide where you will live.

so that brings me to now. watching the rain come down in fat pellets outside my window in berlin, sitting in an unbelievably beautiful and comfortable hotel room that makes me feel safe and inspired.

and david. who’s on a train right now because he’s decided he needs to see me in berlin tonight.

breathe, julia. breathe.

i don’t belong to anyone.

location: berlin
now playing: radiohead – kid a

okay.

i don’t even know where to start.

i should probably start with yesterday, my last full day in amsterdam.

i stayed up the entire night the night before because i’d taken a marathon nap in the afternoon and was wide awake. Ventured out for the first time at night. Everything was closed in my neighborhood except for the coffeehouses and it was drizzling, so after 30 minutes of exploring the area, I sit in a coffeehouse and order an amazing mocha drink, reading Man and His Symbols.

I spent the rest of the night in my hotel pod, listening to music and thinking.

Until you find the meaning you seek, you shake every hand.

I was starting to find myself a bit indolent and wondering if this trip was more a rebellious quirk than an existential quest. i was feeling a bit frustrated. figured i would get up whenever, but to my surprise, still dutifully got up at 8am.

i was determined to see sights today. saw the anne frank haus which was interesting, but it didn’t have further emotional impact on me than the book. the house has been cleansed of the energy. there were signs printed with diary excerpts everywhere, but nothing captured the soul of her story. i was hoping to catch a glimpse of a soul, something that vibrated with powerful emotions and inspiration. she was a fellow gemini who by being who she was, gave the world something very important.

went to the rijks museum whose most famous piece is rembrandt’s night watch. i couldn’t focus because this wasn’t what i was looking for.

wandered back home. stopped into a coffee shop that’s supposed to be famous. i told the guy i wanted to try some hash but i was leaving tomorrow and couldn’t take anything with me. he offered to sell me half a gram to try and showed me how to use it. I put it away and took it home but didn’t touch it. was told later that that’s very unusual that they break up a gram. i said, i was nice when i asked. i also seem to be exerting my will pretty gracefully.

on the way back, passed that shop that i’d gone into twice my first day here. the guy was outside pulling a display in. i told him i decided to buy something he’d recommended. (i didn’t really need it…it was an impulse event). he told me he was closing but he’d let me come in. inside there was a girl on the floor surrounded by friends, and a moment later, the paramedics came. what happened, i asked him. she smoked for the first time and freaked out, he said. i let her come in here to try to calm down because she was laying on the street, but she thinks she’s dying. it was dramatic and he was pulled away when the police came so someone else rang me up. he came back and asked me if today was my last day in amsterdam. tomorrow, i said. i asked him if he knew any fun, safe clubs or bars in walking distance. he recommended some but they were kind of far. i’m afraid to walk too far at night, i confessed with a laugh. aren’t you here with your friends? he asked. i was in germany and this is just a side trip, i said, not really answering the question. the paramedics wanted to talk to him so he walked away. the girl finished ringing me up and told me a club suggestion. she said bye and i thanked her and walked towards the door.

wait, he said and hurried over. if you want, i can take you somewhere tonight, and be like..your guide. i get off at 3:30.

what time do people usually go out, i asked, suddenly shy.

around 10 or so, he said.

i was thinking about going to see boom!chicago first, but we can meet up in that area after.

i’ve always wanted to see that show, he said.

so…you’re saying you want to go too…

yeah, he said.

i freak out inside. I have problems.

i can give you my number, he said. i don’t know how to use the phone here, i confessed. he laughed. we arranged for me to meet him at the store at 3:30 to have coffee then go to the show. my name is david, by the way, he said, extending his hand. i heard his name and was surprised. something crinkled in the back of my mind, the spark of something i should know. but it was gone as quickly as it came.

i do some writing in the meantime.

i met up with him and we go to a coffeehouse and talk over a couple of beers. he had a soothing english accent and had grown up in england. he said today was probably one of the weirdest and worst days of work since he started there. He told me the saga of the girl–basically a coffeehouse had kicked her out for freaking out from smoking, so she was in the street. he let them bring her in so she wasn’t in the street, but she thought she was dying, and the boyfriend was freaking out too and kept digging in her mouth because he was afraid she would swallow her tongue. she ended up throwing up everywhere. then when the police and paramedics came, they laughed and said, she’s just stoned; there’s nothing we can do. they were going to take her to the hospital and sit her in a chair to sober up, but she would be charged 700 euros. the girl obviously didn’t have money like that so he talked them out of taking her, then asked the place next door if she could lay down in the owner’s living quarter to sober up while he could get the shop cleaned up and reopened. it sounds like you had quite a bit on your shoulders today, i said.

i asked him if this kind of thing was common because i kind of assumed it would be (i imagine that amsterdam is europe’s vegas complete with sloppy escapism) but he said it’s never happened. then he said he hoped the night would be a good night to balance out his day. when he mentioned that he felt like he was at a point in his life where he felt stuck in a rut but felt he needed to make big life changes, i knew it would be a good night. i’ve noticed that people at this exact place in their lives tend to be the ones i interact with.

he told me that he didn’t believe in magic, that he was afraid to because when he was a kid, he had these dreams of minor events that would come true the next day, and they had frightened him. i told him that magic, as in things that seem coincidental or like there’s an explanation beyond linear time/space, is real and if he is willing to see it, the universe will show him that it’s woven into our lives. the universe wants you to believe it’s out there, i told him.

the conversation was really good. after a few hours, he was leaning in very close and looking at me quietly and smiling, creating lulls in the conversation which made me increasingly shy. we headed over to boom!chicago for dinner and a sketch/improv show. when we left the theater, there were all these soccer fans congregated in the square outside with police in riot gear. the aig fans fight, he said. it can get dangerous. so we ducked into a pub and had coffee while we waited out the rain and the potential riots. the bar closed at 1am but there was a club around the corner so we went there to check it out. then we left and talked until it was well into the morning.

i think it’s true. a different person in me comes out around 2-3 am in the morning. i always felt like, 2am is for work to be done on me, 3am is work to be done for the universe. but i’m always dropping knowledge around that time or making discoveries around that time of night, but as morning breaks, i turn into an impish jokester again.

we started talking about some deep shit. about life, hopes and dreams and secrets. he told me about his stepfather and i told him about the cycle of pain and how children wear their father’s insecurities and failures, which they may or may not pass on to their children. but how even if you decide not to perpetuate the cycle and not project that energy, you also can’t carry it inside. we ha
ve to refuse to give any power to that voice until it’s only a part of your history, but not a part of you.

he told me that in 7 years of working at that shop, he’s never run after someone and asked to meet up later. he said that he’s never met anyone like me, and he knew for a fact how he felt about me. i didn’t question what those feelings were and he let the subject drop.

we talked until i had to check out of my hotel, then went and got coffee. i appreciated that he had a very witty sense of humor and from some angles, gave off a big brother energy of someone strong and dependable, and from some other angles, when he smiled, he seemed like a sweet kid. he was trying to think of a plan to get me to stay, even though my hotel was booked in berlin. i took one of his cigarettes from the new pack he’d bought last night but hadn’t smoked from, flipped it upside down and put it back in.

lucky cigarette, he said. i haven’t done that in years.

you’re going to smoke all of these cigarettes until you get to this one. then after you smoke this one, you’ll have forgotten about me, wondering if our meeting was just a dream, i said.

i don’t believe that, he said.

it happens, i said. then you’re going to quit smoking.

after a couple of coffees, we realized we’d been up all night and were screwed in terms of staying hallucination-free. i had 3 hours before my train and it was raining, so we went to his place to wait it out and nap. i woke up to find my head on his chest, lulled by the steady beat of his heart, and his arms around me to keep me warm. i was caught between a waking and dreaming world where everything seems familiar even though i had no idea where i was. i let my eyes follow the lines of his angular shoulder under the blue threads of his sweater, my eyes having been drawn to his shoulders all night, and then suddenly… deja vu. i shot up and stared at him. have you ever seen me in your dreams?, i ask, very seriously. i’m gonna dream about you every night, he said. no seriously. did i seem familiar to you? i don’t remember my dreams, he said. i put my head down again, thinking away the thought.

it was a bitter, freezing rain coming down making the walk to the train station miserable. he was very quiet, as he had begged me all morning to find some way to stay at least another day. suddenly, he stopped and squared me by the shoulders. his eyes were intense. i need you to know this. i want you to stay. you can say it’s about your journey, but it’s also about whether you want to stay another day and spend more time with me. but the reason i’m not being more forceful about keeping you here is because it’s your choice and you needing to do what you feel is right. last night was one of the best nights of my life and no one can ever take that away from me. but if you leave today, know that my doors will always be open to you, whether you want to come back today, next week, next month or next year. i know how i feel about you and i am sure of my feelings. i’ve never felt this way before or said this to anyone. i need you to understand this. this is important, julia. do you understand?

i nodded, the moment stripped so emotionally bare there was nothing you could do but take it very, very seriously.

but i also remember the one word that resoundedly landed in my head.

Crap.

he walked me to the station and made sure i got on the train, then said goodbye. it was the longest hug i’ve ever had with a one-night spiritual stand, a hug with teeth that gnawed on the hidden zipper within my chest. yes, i was scared to be here, scared to leave. the knowledge that this could be the close of our window, a surreal blip in reality where we had plunged into darkness together and found a familiar light within each other, hung over us. when i got settled in on the train, i was surprised and frustrated to have tears stinging my eyes. i knew he was sitting on the bench outside the train, because when i’d passed by the window, he’d been sitting there, long legs sprawled out, looking so sad. the train sat unmoving on the tracks for a good 5 minutes. i could have easily gotten off and changed the course of events.

but the point of the story is, i didn’t.

even though i knew the moment i sleep and wake again, it will be a reset of my reality where the surface gleams and everything underneath could very easily be the colors and shapes of a dream.

3 meetings, two of them unintentional because i’d gotten lost. one night. two sane, intelligent people communicating their deepest thoughts. and yes, i showed him the real me. how is it, that these people can fall so hard and be sure they want to be with me with such intensity and sincerity, and yet i still feel so hollow? because i promised myself i would never let anyone ever catch me again?

what is the meaning of these things? what is the meaning?

i feel like a ghost, radiating the light of a broad, spiritual source, but in essence, just a tiny, forlorn paper lantern who doesn’t know what she is outside of her function, blowing uselessly in the wind when the day breaks.

the message is real. everything i’ve said and communicated has always been out of a deep love and it’s always been real.

even if there’s a chance i may not be.

and like that, i have a date tonight.

i have no idea who i’m going to be.

i started thinking about how a mind learns today, and even though i maintained a B+/A- avg all the way through college, i know i was a bad student. i was just smart enough to slip through the cracks, though it’s nothing i’m proud of. if i could do it again, with the aid of coffee or whatever i need to stay focused and absorb, i would. it’s just that general learning settings didn’t work for me.

this is how it went:

i was always asleep. like narcoleptic asleep. i could walk into a lecture and be asleep before the professor began speaking, waking up as everyone packed up to leave. i had a good way of disappearing so the teachers never bothered me, but i was rarely awake, unless i found the material drivingly interesting (anything related to psychology/spirituality, but not religion. therefore, i logged almost no waking hours in science classes, accumulated). i even knew how to prop my head up like i was reading, and could sleep through a whole class that way.

this was the worst in college. i could sleep so deeply as to be dreaming bizarre, quirky, fantastical dreams. they were like little video clips spawned by david lynch or dali that completely disoriented me when i woke up. often, i would doubt the existence of this reality because the other seemed so much more colorful and full of life.

i made up the knowledge doing all of the assigned readings with great concentration and diligence. all math and science homework i copied off guys i bullied into helping me with a playful dominating seduction. they really couldn’t say no. because i knew i didn’t deserve a good grade, i would study the night before the final to cram as much cursory knowledge into my short term memory, and I was willing to live with at worst a C in science classes. People have always been amazed at how I get away with test taking considering I basically glean very little from attending class.

i’m very good at retaining written word for a short period of time, turning ideas into mnemonics so i could pass any tests. I tend to forget shortly after. this was how i passed out of my language requirement while trying to graduate early. basically, i did 5 semesters at michigan (took fall of my 2nd year off when i tore my acl a few weeks in). i had some ap credits and went to school year round, taking classes at berkeley one year (for english requirements) then usc the next (film). i had to take a years worth of classes my final semester, and the only way to get everything in was to double up on classes, which the university didn’t seem to notice. so one of the classes, i only went to twice–the first day to pick up the syllabus, the last day to take the final. (i crammed in the reading the week before the final). i was also simultaneously shooting an ambitious thesis film that took up almost every waking hour and severely limited the amount of sleep i got. at the end of the semester, as it looked like i was all set to graduate, i realized i hadn’t fulfilled my language requirement.

michigan requires two years. i had taken the spanish evaluation exam when i first entered, and had passed out of two semesters. but it’s not offered in the summer, so i would have had to come back for a fourth year of college, because of one class i needed in the fall, and one class i needed in the spring. that drove me crazy. the school policy is that i can only take the test once upon entrance. they wouldn’t let me take the test again. i read through the policies and found a loophole. if i could prove that i had a learning disability and this wasn’t accounted for at the time i took my initial language test, then they had to let me retake the test.

look, i’m not someone who likes to take advantage of things. but i needed to get out of school. the academic environment doesn’t help me learn optimally and kills my self-esteem. plus, my family was imploding back in california and they were making me come home every month to witness the turmoil, and i couldn’t take being tugged between two worlds anymore–my tumultuous family life from which i came, and the independent world of possibility where i was trying to find myself.

my brother has Asperger’s, compounded by ADHD. i knew that when they had taken our CAT scans to compare brain function when we were kids, they saw the same activity in my brain denoting ADHD as in his. i remembered that. so it wasn’t hard for me to take a test and get diagnosed. hell, anyone who has met me can probably tell i’m ADHD, unless i try very hard to focus and hide it, which is really mentally draining.

so i went back, showed them the diagnosis and paperwork, and i was scheduled to re-take the test a week after my graduation ceremony. so i walked, getting my diploma without knowing whether or not i would have to stay for another year just because of two classes. i did come to terms with it though. michigan only gives full degrees, no minors, but if i had to stay, i would just get a third degree in psychology. i only needed 8 classes.

i bought an ap spanish book to help me cram, and went in and took the test, praying that my short-term memory didn’t fail me. i felt pretty confident about it, knowing i only needed 70% and i was done with college.

the guy fed my answer sheet through the machine, and when he came back, he looked embarrassed. sorry, he said. i looked and it said i’d only gotten 54% correct, meaning another year of school. i stared at it for a long time. 54%??? could i have overestimated the confidence of my knowledge and completely been delusional about my answers? it didn’t make sense.

are you sure this is right? i asked him.

yeah, you failed. he said.

failed.

the most devastating word in my vocabulary.

and it came out of the mouth of some buck-toothed punk.

i felt my ears get hot and my eyes started stinging.

i didn’t mind coming back for another year and getting another degree while i was at it (i loved psychology anyway, though i struggle with statistics). but how was it i scored worst than when i first took the test?

suddenly, i was confident that didn’t make sense.

you need to check this again, i told him. there’s no way i only got 54% on this test.

machines don’t lie, he told me.

i thrust the sheet back into his hands. go check it, i said. like there wasn’t going to be an argument.

he rolled his eyes and went back and checked. i waited with my arms crossed.

a few minutes later, he came back, apologetic. i’m really sorry, he said. i matched your answer sheet against the wrong test. you got an 83%. Congratulations.

oh my god. i’d graduated.

in the cheapest, most meaningless way possible.

so that’s how i got out of college.

i wheeled and dealed. i took classes that overlapped, showing up just for the first day and the final to do well enough to pass and get the credit. i slept through lectures and then got the geeks down my hall to explain the information to me. anything that required writing, i was the queen of bullshit. words are seduction and i would write the craziest essays and papers in a few hours, always doing this stream of consciousness, typing as fast as my mind can go. I always wrote them within days of getting the assignment, often the same day, then turned them in weeks later without rereading. some instructors would call bullshit on me for not telling them in detail how i got from point a to point d. but for the most part, the stuff i was dropping sounded good enough for them to buy into. A’s for anything written was easy.

the falling asleep was always a problem with lecture classes, but it was harder to hide in discussion. so the only way to get me to pay attention in a discussion format, was for me to have a crush on the instructor and intellectually spar or engage with him or her. sometimes it was shameful who i made myself generate crushes on so i could be motivated into proving i was i
ntelligent enough to get a good grade. men or women, old or young, i fought hard in those classes to make myself interested and always got a’s in those. i ended up spending as much time hanging out with graduate student instructors as my peers.

in hindsight, i think i realized if i didn’t go fast, i would lose my momentum and get swallowed up by the academic system. it was just so hard for me to swallow information that way, and i struggled incredibly with focus and attention. yet, i’m infatuated with learning and collecting knowledge. i still continue to take classes to this day, around 4-6 a year because it’s important in my life to continually expand intellectually. but i do feel guilty sometimes that i wasn’t able to make the most out of my academic career, and even though i saved my parents a year in out-of-state tuition, i also feel like i wasted their money because i didn’t retain very much academic information. i do have regrets about how i wasted my education and am constantly reminding myself that just because i can find loopholes and get out of a lot of situations, it can often be to my detriment because i’m missing out on the experience and what can be gained if i followed the rules and forced myself to focus.

Now Playing: U.N.K.L.E. – War Stories

It hailed on me today. I was trying to ride a bike and it was like having these searing heat-seeking missiles pop in your eye. I trooped through it until I couldn’t see and it started feeling like a personal attack. Took cover and had myself some coffee.

This city is crazy. Very complex. I’m still wary of talking to people here. It’s kind of like I can’t understand where they’re coming from yet so I don’t trust them.

I finally hung out at one of the coffeeshops. Having a professionally rolled joint is like a fine cigar. It was a pleasant, tasty smoke and then the music seemed to be increasing in decibels. I looked up at the lightbulb and I could see halos around it and a sudden sense of euphoria. Then the room began to darken, and I saw the people walking by as these metallic silhouettes. I started to get really hot so I took off my hat, which made me feel exposed to the room. Now I had to smile at people who walked by and looked at me. The waitress took a good 20 minutes to make a coffee with cream, but my God, it was delicious. I stared out the window for a while, writing down words and phrases that popped into my head. An American asked if he could share my table. He sat down and pulled out a journal. Hmmm. We were both scribbling away and I took a peek at his. His handwriting is a scrawl, secretive like mine, a code read only by the writer.

I caught him looking up at me a few times but I would look away. His friend showed up and they switched to another table. He glanced over from time to time and I’m sure there was at least a cursory discussion here. But I ignored it. I got up and left without making eye contact.

See, when I start storing up energy the way I have the last few months, it means a connection is coming in. A big soulmate connection and an important lesson/test to be co-created. This person and I have a life-changing experience to share, and much work to do. Since you don’t know who it is until you know, it’s kind of like picking up a foreign exchange student you’ve never met at the train station. When you find the person, you’ll just know, but until then, you question every person. These connections can be good or bad. They’re intended for you to grow, but sometimes it takes a difficult experience for you to grow.

final exam: an open-ended forum to show the universe what I’ve learned so far at this point in my life. If I can stay strong and positive and pay attention, it will determine the types of challenges I’ll be presented with in the next stage of my life. My goal is to show that I am projecting the type of energy that tells the universe that I don’t have to repeat lessons and I’m ready to move on.

Right now, I’m thinking about everything and trying to come up with a focused statement of, what have I learned so far, and where would I like to go from here. And once I’ve visualized it, I have to project it into the universe for approval.

In the spirit of Amsterdam and my hotel room offering free hardcore porn, I decided to explore…

Things I Think Are Hot:

–Button-Down Shirts with Ties – call it a dad fetish or whatever. But when I see a guy with nice shoulders in a shirt & tie, all I can think about is taking it off. Doesn’t work with old fat, married fucks, but any clean-cut guy in a shirt & tie makes me imagine taking his clothes off.

– Left-Handers – the minute I see someone is left handed, I automatically assume they’re creative and hold some kind of right-brained secret knowledge that us right-handers don’t possess. And I want it. I crumble at the hands of left-handers with dark, expressive eyes, and whenever a left hander is writing, I’m always staring at his hand like it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.

-Pisces – they are my poison. I feel like I was born part Pisces and whenever I want to express to them that I think we’re alike, they crash me into the rocks like a ship caught in a storm. I can’t help that I was born in the wrong place. I just want to join your camp for a little while so you can give me some pointers.

-Twins – I was in love with a twin for a long time. I would have had no problem if that relationship needed to involve both of them. They say that Geminis need two of everything. That’s definitely true in my life. I even have two toothbrushes (both green). In terms of relationships, I can only handle one commitment. But as long as I haven’t made a commitment, all’s fair in love and war, and I think two is better than one.

-Candlelit Showers – alone or with someone else, these could take hours…

-Falling Asleep to the Sound of Someone’s Heartbeat -this is one of the most comforting things in the world.

-Men Who Have the Ability to Get Up Early – because they can get up before me and make me breakfast.

-Thunderstorms – the best is to wake up at dawn on a Saturday morning to the sounds of a thunderstorm outside, and know you have nothing to do today but to stay under the covers.

-Hands – a guy once told me that he’s never noticed a girl’s hands before, but that I had beautiful hands. After that, I started noticing people’s hands. There’s something really sexy about a guy with strong hands and nimble fingers.

-Eyes – when I look into a man’s eyes and it’s like tumbling into a deep cave. You can glimpse an entire universe, moving through him like a powerful river. It’s unbelievably hot when a man opens up so you can see this universe through his eyes.

-Lavender – brings out my soft, feminine side.

-Strangers – entire universes to explore with no obligations. Anything goes…

-Sports – adrenaline + sweat + physical contact + endorphins. You may as well have sex as the perfect afternoon cap.

-Wits – if your mind can hang with mine and you can keep up, then you’ve already mastered the foreplay.

-Kissing – I am totally orally fixated.

I was having disruptive dreams last night. It seemed like no matter where I went in the dreamworld, I would keep running into faces from the past. These were people I’d known and had both good and bad connections with, and even if I woke up and switched to another dream, there would be someone there waiting for me, ready to turn whatever corner I decided to walk up to find us face to face. I saw Reggie with his hair cut short again. I saw Andrew and his brother, two halves of a whole. I saw old coworkers and family members. At the Desperate Housewives’ supermarket. In houses in distant lands I was touring in hopes of buying. Every dream I kept running into someone. I woke up. Pondered how it is that there are people in my life that I may never see again, yet somehow, in the deep recesses of my mind, they go on living as these perfectly captured moments that I almost believe are real. No wonder I still like mankind.

I just decided to kill sleep all together and wake up. Saw that here, it’s 2:55am. Almost 3am. Why not.

Starting thinking.

Now playing: Plaid – Spokes

Yesterday was cool, but creepy. I went to this little town along the Rhine suggested by this guidebook. It said it’s a tourist-oriented town, but when I got there, there wasn’t even a platform to get off on. It was a stretch of grass. I had no idea which way to go to find my hotel, so I just followed the main drag. Every store was closed, including a theater that displayed some kind of comical puppet diorama with an old lady talking to a guy in a military suit and it looked suspiciously mocking of WWII. I finally saw two elderly tourists up ahead so I was relieved that there were people in this town. It was starting to feel like the town had battened down the hatches and was awaiting the annual horde of vamperewolves to descend upon the town for their feeding. I started channeling I Am Legend.

Found the place I would be staying. turned out to be a b&b, across from the oldest building in the city, a crooked Smurf-like affair. I had to ring six times to get someone to answer. This tall man in his 40’s looked mildly irritated and utterly befuddled that I was there. I showed him my reservation and he asked me if I wanted a single or double. I didn’t want to answer so I showed him the reservation which just said 1 room (later, I think I didn’t want him to know I was alone). So he led me up these stairs onto the top floor, into this corner room that was a double but told me, there’s only one key. Even if he didn’t believe there was another person, I just felt it was better than admitting I was alone. He disappeared down the hall. The room was cozy with a tiny bathroom a dominating yellow motif. The wallpaper, the pillow, the bedspread…all yellow. Yup…everything yellow. And the memory of Tina in the back of my head whispering, “Yellow is a hostile color….” Had to repeat to myself, this is not Psycho. this is not Psycho followed by This is not The Shining, this is not The Shining.

I put down my stuff quickly and left to explore the town. Opened my room door to a hall that was completely dark. The place echoed with stillness. It felt like sneaking out of someone’s attic.

I walked around the city trying to follow the guidebook’s self-guided tour suggestion, but it was boring. So I just walked around, up and down stairs, paths and back alleys, exploring. I found this steep trail that led towards a couple of landmarks and a view overlooking the city & the Rhine. I encountered maybe 12 people the whole afternoon. I grabbed a donar sandwich at the only place in town that was open, along with a beer/cola mix that I got just to try. It just tasted like soda with a bitter edge. Headed back to my room and was asleep before sundown, preparing to defend my room and wait out the night. The first sounds that woke me were construction sounds. People sawing and hauling heavy tools. I checked the clock. It was 11pm. At around midnight, the whistle announcing a crossing train blew, but as the train rumbled by, there was a shriek of tires and a large crash and the sounds of shattering glass. I got up and looked out my window, but the way the room is set up, there’s a fake balcony with two chairs and a planter outside that you couldn’t get to. They’d sealed the doorway with a vertically-tilting window. I heard voices arguing so I figured it was a minor car crash, not a train having struck something.

But a part of me was creeped out by the fact I couldn’t see anyone, but could hear echoes of people milling about down below. What if this were a ghost story, and all those voices are ghosts who go about their daily lives at night.

I decided just to stay up for the night, reading and watching DVDs. As I prepared for a shower, I noticed there was a dead spider on one of the towels. Luckily, it wasn’t touching the one on the top so I just took that one and put the others in the corner. I was stoic. I have no emotional room to deal with my arachnaphobia right now.

I’d looked up the train schedule so I wanted to take the first train back to Frankfurt instead of the one I had for the afternoon. May as well get to Amsterdam sooner. I had packed up by 6am for the 7:30 train, then sat watching a DVD with my shoes on until it was time to go. I knocked on the office door but no one answered. I tried knocking again, then a third time. I ended up just leaving the key in the mailbox.

There were a few other people at the station, looking to be on their way to work or school. I was relieved to be leaving. This town had a really creepy energy. I didn’t relax until I was on the train and we were moving, and not completely until I was firmly standing in the Frankfurt station.

Changed my ticket and got on my train to Amsterdam with no problems.

I finished The Memory Keeper’s Daughter during the long stretches when the landscape was obscured by graffiti’d walls. I was drawn into the parts of the book that dealt with how secrets grow trees of loneliness within people. She was richly melodic with her words at times.

Could feel the city before I saw it, tension–a beautiful city with a dark undercurrent. I was amazed at the architecture. I realized I knew nothing of what Amsterdam would look like. As usual, I didn’t want to ask for directions and just wandered until I found my hotel. These streets are insane. I probably went up and down the same street 4 times, but I did find it.

My room is a porn palace. There is the most beautiful piece of phtography that serves as my headboard, and I can change the lighting behind it into about 9 different shades. I could live in this room. I mean, I honestly want to make it my second home. My dragon could live here.

I walked around for a bit and accidentally walked into the same shop twice. The guy working there was cute and we’d smiled at each other the first time I walked out and the second time, he walked around with me, chatting. Very nice guy, we talked about the weather and some politics. I told him I wanted him to know we were embarrassed of our government right now but we’re trying to make things right. He asked me if I thought the democrats could pull it out.
We’re trying, i said. we have to stop fighting each other, but we’re trying.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, like it felt like there was more to say. but i didn’t chance the moment so i said bye, smiled and walked out. i heard him yell out the door, “Bye! It was nice meeting you!” And I almost turned around, but the point of the story is, I didn’t.

Talked with a guy with piercing eyes who told me, creativity comes from inside you. You can access it any time you want. I started laughing. You’re a wise man, I said.

It started pouring. I don’t mind walking around in the cold rain without an umbrella. I actually really like it. But I’ve got a long trip ahead of me and need me on point so I went back to the hotel.

Had a litt
le photoshoot with my headboard. Got to thinking, got to writing, then fell asleep. And that’s when those dreams happened.

Which brings me to today. My today is your tomorrow.

when i go home i want to make this t-shirt.

amsterdam…
whoever designed these streets was fucking high.

I get it.

The universe brought me here because I’m taking a final exam right now.

Holy shit.

I ended up going out last night. Went to some bar next to the hotel and sat in the corner and people watched. It looks like pegged jeans is in in Germany. One of my ex-coworkers who has family in Germany told me they were about 10 years behind in fashion. So they’re in the 90’s, I’d asked. Better than the 80’s, I guess. The 80’s were tragic. But I don’t know how I feel about the pegged jeans look.

It was boring so I went to the other side of my hotel where there was live music. I had to pay a cover of 12 Euros but was told it was good for 15 clubs, and there was a shuttle running between the clubs. I thought, this could be bad. This could be very bad. The club featured a spunky 3-man band playing covers. The only ones I recognized were “Losing My Religion” by REM and “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure. Met a nice guy named Alex who didn’t know a lot of English so he mostly just stared at me and smiled. I took off after about 6 songs and headed to a dance club called Walden. Unless it means something in German, Walden makes me think of solitude, contemplation and Thoreau. This club had a great DJ. Right away he had a house mix going with Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall. I had a Hefeweizen that tasted like sushi, but it got me really, really drunk, especially since I’d eaten so much midday that I’d skipped dinner. As everything blurred, the only thing that kept me steady was the beat.

I was dancing and then at some point, staring at this guy’s ass while his oblivious girlfriend texted away on her cellphone. Wondered what the Germans think about casual sex. I was enjoying dancing by myself but then this one Asian girl kept staring at me and dancing closer and closer to me. She said something to this tall, goofy white guy she was with and he turned and looked at me, then said something to her. She promptly got RIGHT UP in front of me and started showing off with these crazy hair tossing moves, followed by looking back at me intensely. As with these types of situations, I wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight me or fuck me, though I heavily suspected the latter, so I left the dance floor and hung out at the bar with a Beck’s Green Lemon beer which kind of tasted like weed. Maybe jetlag’s got my taste buds all messed up. But I do swear many people in that place did smell like weed.

There was a kid who looked like the flying kid on Heroes. He looked about 18 and he kept doing status checks on me (this is when a guy doesn’t have the guts to talk to you, so while he’s working up the guts, he’ll keep looking over to make sure he knows where you are). I thought about how I blew the whole “sex with an 18 year old” thing in Hawaii last year and thought, this kid’s even more tender than that one (that one I thought was a 25 year old sports model). I would totally corrupt him. But then this obnoxious nerdy guy who was sitting next to me kept getting more and more aggressive (he resorted to staring and bumping me), and it was becoming harder to avoid eye contact and act like I didn’t notice he was repeatedly sticking his elbow into my side, so I figured I’d call it a night before I did anything I regretted. The kid’s friend saw me putting on my coat and got his attention. He looked at me kind of panicked, but I winked and waved, then made my way out the door.

Kept waking up in the middle of the night with the room spinning.

Got up in time for the complimentary breakfast. There was only one other person there, this middle-aged Filipino looking guy who had said hi to me in the lobby the other day and seemed too attentive. He was really excited to see me and asked me if he had seen me at the bar the other night. I said, I don’t know, and then sat at another table and pulled out a book because I didn’t want him to invite me to sit with him. He was clearly done with his breakfast, but he lingered, and lingered. When I went to get up for water, he asked me what room number I was in. I was surprised and couldn’t recover to lie, so I told him. I figured I was checking out within the hour anyway, so it wouldn’t matter. I waited until he got up for more coffee, then I slipped out. It looked like he was waiting for me and I didn’t want to ride the elevator with him. I was in my room for 5 minutes packing when the phone rang. I thought it was my wake up call but it was him. “It’s your friend from downstairs,” he opened.

Oh Christ, I thought.

“How long are you staying here?” he asked.

“I’m leaving today,” I said.

“Where are you going?” I truly worried he was the type who would follow me across this country.

“Home to the US,” I said.

“Really? That short? I thought you said you just got to Frankfurt yesterday,” he said.

Jesus. “I was in Berlin the last few days for business,” I said, remembering that Frankfurt is a hub and many people still have to fly out of this city.

“Oh, okay. Well, bye.” he said.

I hung up without saying bye, and got out of the hotel quickly.

I made it to the train station an hour before my departure to Bacharach but was really confused about where I was supposed to be. With 10 minutes to spare, I realized I was actually supposed to be on another level. Again, a woman was nice enough to help me. People here are really great.

Arrived at Bacharach, reminded me of the movie Hostel. Tiny town with a castle turned hostel at the top of the hill. Unfortunately, it was raining so my plans to bike along the Rhine were foiled. I still hiked up the hill to the castle which was a challenging climb, but offered a beautiful view of the river and the city. There was this empty shell of a chapel, Werner Kapelle, which was this circular structure with no windows except this single panel of red stained glass. The information plaque said there was a rumor that this was a location of ritualistic killings of Jews here which are false, but the structure remains as a reminder that religions can co-exist (I’m paraphrasing but that’s about the gist of it). Looking up at this structure, you could feel the gravity of guilt here–whatever actually happened at this remote location, it serves as a reminder for the Germans of dark period of their history.

Nothing was open so I just wandered around and then headed back to my hotel. I’m going to leave earlier than I’d originally planned for Amsterdam tomorrow since there I’ve explored most of this town already.

Amsterdam will hopefully be interesting.

And so begins…

Remember what I said about packing well?

I take that back.

I left:

-Sunglasses
-Sunblock
-hairbrush
-watch
-my entire toiletry bag.

I realized all of these things collectively as I was about to go through the security check at LAX. Felt so much like an idiot, I froze, so the woman behind me went ahead of me. I was at the airport 2 hours before my flight so I probably could have ran home and gotten everything, but I didn’t want to chance compounding one mistake with a bigger one (missing my flight). Rie happened to call so I told her. I was feeling pretty miserable, but then I realized that if I dwell on it, I’ll create other mistakes so I took some time to meditate on it about how it’s okay, I can buy everything at Duty Free or when I get to Germany and imagined the rest of my trip going without a hitch. Rie had a good point though. This isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten specifically these items and I have multiples of everything at home. I should create a separate kit for travel so I can just pack everything the night before. The reason I forget some of these things is because they’re the last items I put into my suitcase.

Flew into SF and then on to Frankfurt. Watched Juno and most of Martian Child on the plane. Liked both movies a lot since they dealt with some themes that I’m thinking about right now–are there really connections that can last a lifetime (Juno), and sometimes I feel like I’m from another planet (MC). Slept for most of the flight and read a little from The Memory Keeper’s Daughter.

Arrived at Frankfurt. There was an extra bounce in my step. Cruised every cute guy walking by. The boys are cute here! Got through customs without a hitch and then I was free. Had to catch a train to the Frankfurt Main station and with the help of a very friendly stewardess, made it there without incident. Frankfurt Main is insane. It’s the train hub for Germany, but the craziest thing to me was this group of about 100 teenage boys, all wearing black, on the way to some sort of outing. They were clustered around these stores that sold beer, and were all holding 40-sized beers while carrying beer in plastic bags with cases at their feet. Keep in mind, it was 10:30 in the morning, but they were well on their way towards inebriation. I’ve never seen so much beer at 10:30 in the morning. I wish I had taken a picture.

I walked the 2 km to my hotel which is across from the center of the city. The place is very SF, and I was staying in the main tourist/shopping district. I passed the red light district (not impressive in the day time), about 4 Chinese restaurants, and about 7 athletic wear stores. I checked in then headed out. Headed to old town Frankfurt and saw city hall, some cathedrals, and a street lined with houses that were redesigned by famous architects from around the world post-WWII as a challenge to see what they could do with similar-sized structures. My favorite was this “upside down” house (pics to come. I forgot my card reader).

Headed across the river and encountered a huge flea market. Was disappointed to find that other people’s junk in Europe looks just like other people’s junk back home. Wanted a Neil Diamond record for shits & giggles but had the good sense not to buy it. I did buy this sausage. It was about 12 inches + and they serve it in this “bun” that was more like a dinner roll no longer than 4 inches. It felt kind of obscene being a single girl walking around eating a massive porn sausage. I couldn’t handle it (too much salty meat and grease) so I got a donar dolum, which is like a shawarma wrap but Turkish and with chicken. That was really good. Cost 4 euros, which is about $6. Damn you Bush. Look what you did to our money. Walked around (there are multiple bakeries and kaffe shops on each block, and the biggest pretzels you’ve ever seen), then stopped by a pub called Adolf Wagner for an Apfelwein (apple wine). It’s basically apple cider with the alcohol content similar to beer. It tastes like cider but with a weird watery aftertaste, like someone peed in your cider. But after a while, you don’t notice.

Took the train home (another German girl was very nice to help me because I was staring at the map blankly for a very long time), then fell asleep dreaming of going to a store and buying all the toiletries I needed. Woke up to realize I actually had to do it. Went out again just as it was getting dark. Everyone is so polite during the day, but flirtier/friendlier as dark falls. Seriously, the guys are cute out here. Oh my goodness. Not aggressive and predatory like Italians or leery like the French, but just open and friendly. You smile at them, and it opens them up and they give you the warmest smiles back. And they love their house/techno.

There are homeless people here, including schizophrenics. It’s very 3rd Street Promenade in a way, except when they’re talking to these people only they can see, they’re doing it in German. I usually like listening to these types of people and wondering what they’re talking about and who it is they’re seeing, but my 6 words/phrases of German did not help me translate.

Saw a cute little kid wearing an eyepatch. I started laughing. I’ve got this friend who plays basketball and will lose his contact sometimes. He’ll put it back in and keep playing, but inside, I kind of freak out because I’m afraid he’ll go blind since the floor is so dirty. I threw out most of my contact stuff since I got Lasik, but I looked around my house anyway to see if I had solution I could keep on hand but all I could find was overnight cleaner. If he doesn’t start bringing solution to the gym, he’s gonna get married in an eyepatch like a pirate!

Listened to some Peruvian street musicians playing, what are they called…wind flutes? My dad loves this type of music so I took a picture. I like the music too. I’m really drawn to any music that heavily uses minor keys. I like the emotions that those keys touch in me, my inner moody introvert.I’m still contemplating if I want to go out tonight. I’ve gotta get up early to take the train to Bacharach, which is off the Rhine. From what I read in the guidebook, it’s a cute little town where you can rent a bike to ride along the river and visit medieval castles.

It hasn’t been the most exciting day so far, but it’s been pleasant, a day of adjustment. I haven’t really talked to anyone though, outside of the handsome gentleman at the front desk of my hotel who looks like a young Elliott Gould. He tried to tell me I look like this famous woman, very pretty, but he couldn’t think of the name. Is she Asian, I asked. There are only a handful of famous Asian female celebrities. No, he said. I was surprised. I wonder who he’s thinking of.

hahahahahaha….he just came up with it. He says I look like J-Lo. I started cracking up. She’s got a big butt, I said, she’s got a nicer body. You have a nice body, too, he says. haha….he’s so proud of himself so I say thank you, but I don’t really think I look like J-Lo.

More later.

Guten Tag aus Deutschland!

I can’t believe I’m in Germany. This is so surreal because my mindset is exploration mode, but I’m in another country. I’m usually only in other countries with my mom and my brother (ah Michael…it’s already hard being so far away from him. It seems so wrong that I’m in the land of Mercedes and BMW’s without him. But I’ve been taking pictures of cars for him, and promised him I would visit the BMW factory).

So for those who are catching up, this is how it started. I quit my job on Friday, Feb 29th. That night, I was supposed to meet up with Sareet and the gang for DJ Ass & Titties at a club in Silver Lake. I was tired from the emotional strain of leaving my job and having to say goodbye to a family I’ve watched grow for almost 5 years. Plus, I’d already had quite a bit of happy hour tequila with the coworkers, and then gone home and had a good, cathartic cry. So I clean up and head out and am already all the way to Hollywood when I realize, I don’t want to spend all night at an 18 and older club in Silverlake, only having to drive all the way back at 2am. So I turn around. I’m halfway home when I decide I do need to do something to commemorate the day, because it’s the first day of the rest of my life. I figure, I never go to that Venice area, so I headed over.

As I park my car, I see across the street that Circle Bar has a line of about 40 men with no women (they were letting the women go straight in). I thought it would be funny to get in line. So as I’m in line, I meet a short dude who seemed really threatened by me a la Mike from back in the day, and showing immense growth over the last 4 years, I didn’t let him get in my head. I ended up talking to a couple of friendly Germans, and I asked them why they would wait an hour in a line to get into a bar that seemed to be all men. They said that this is where their hotel recommended. So I ended up waiting it out (I had nowhere else to be) because I really was curious if it was all dudes in there. I ended up talking to one of the guys in the bar and then driving him around LA showing him the sights at night while listening to my night mix on my iPod. He was a great guy. Had a lot of soul, had a lot of spirituality, and we were able to communicate on that level despite a language barrier. He said, you can do anything you want right now, be anywhere you want. You’re completely free and you should take advantage of this. He was really excited for me. You should go to Germany next week, he said. Okay, I said.

The thing is, I’ve got ties to Germany and I never understood why. I’ve never told anyone this, but my earliest conscious memories of dreaming involved dreaming of a fantastical factory that created identical blond hair, blue-eyed men (I don’t think it was an ego desire, because from childhood to now, I’ve always been drawn to dark-haired men and not aesthetically interested in blondes). But these dreams were recurring. Of course, when I got older, I realized why I should never, ever, ever tell anyone about these dreams. Once I learned about Nazism and their love of blond-haired, blue-eyed children, I found these childhood recurring dreams a little scary. I also loved photography from Germany, the landscapes and quaint villages, and was obsessed with WWII and what happened to the collective psychology of the German people. I took a German cinema class one summer at Berkeley, and learned the word, Heimat. There’s no English translation for this word, but it means something akin to motherland, the place where you come from. I fell in love with this word.

Was I a German in a past life? I was regressed once and I saw I lived in a cobblestone village. My father was blacksmith but I was an intellectual/academic type, though I was disappointed with my work as I expressed myself conservatively and never wanted to differ from what was academically accepted. I died on that cobblestone street, I just got dizzy and blacked out and that was the end, but my last emotion was one of bitterness at my own weakness. I thought this all took place in Austria but when I prepared for this trip, I learned that Bavaria is smilar to areas in Austria. Perhaps some lingering, overwhelming guilt would explain why I so obsessively strive to do good and put the good of others before my own. The guilt of the German people post-WWII is something I really want to feel and understand here. Perhaps it’s secretly because it is so close to my inexplicable guilt that I hope this trip will be cathartic.

I definitely feel good here so far. People here, like me, are polite and friendly.

I’ll update as I go, internet access allowing.

I’m ready. Thank you all for everything.
I wish you the very best in your lives.
I hope in the future we’ll meet again.