why are you here?

i'm only here because i don't know where else to go

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 19:20:15 GMT

I just wanted to do something nice for all of us. We hardly ever get to spend together as a family anymore and when she is home from work, all she ever does is stake a claim on the couch and the TV and watch her stupid Chinese shows. And since I love dim sum and haven't had in a while, I suggest going. Of course she brings up our financial situation and she's like, you should really save money to go back to school. You just got cable and internet and that's going to cost you an extra 100 every month and you only make 1600 a month. You need to save. And I'm just like, mother fuck. Don't you think I realize how little money I make to be supporting three grown people? The salary that I am earning now is never going to be enough for me to go to grad school even if I was living on my own and not paying for everything in the house. So.. dim sum is not the issue. And how much is dim sum going to cost me anyway? We're fucking Asian - dim sum should not be a luxury.

I hate how there are still so many things that are a luxury to us.

AND HOW IS THIS NOT PUTTING PRESSURE ON ME?

Mother fuck, I feel like I'm 16 again.

I can't keep worrying about everyone. I just can't.

MEANWHILE my fucking loser brother who is turning 20 in a few weeks is still motherfucking unemployed and I keep telling her not to give him any money and she's all like, if I don't give him any money, he won't have any money to spend and I'm like THAT'S THE FUCKING POINT! If all those dipshits who work at Starbucks and McDonald's and Foot Locker can get hired, there's no reason that this dipshit can't. Granted, this is not a good time to get hired, but he's not even fucking trying.

WHY AM I STILL THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS TO FUCKING TRY?

Mother fuck, I just wanted some dim sum.

look who's talking

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 02:24:18 GMT

[edit]: omg, there's a sequel! another message! not as good as the first one, but still kind of amazing.

ahh, i hope there's going to be entire series chronicling his love life. the girl he's leaving a message for in the first one is named heather and if you noticed, in the second one, he's calling rachel, accidentally calls her heather and explains that his ex-girlfriend's name is heather. interesting, eh?

teehee, i am spilling over with excitement over these commercials! (ack, how lame. but whatever!)

Fri, 23 Nov 2007 21:55:59 GMT

being one of a handful of people to come into work today = bad
being the last one to leave the office = worse
needing to come in at 7am on monday = SHOOTME

best week ever, for reals*

Fri, 09 Nov 2007 13:36:38 GMT

This is the music video for a song called "Golden Cage" from a band named "The Whitest Boy Alive."

This is me finding psychology - in this case, the psych of perception, AWESOME - in everything I've stumbled on these days, and absolutely LOVING IT. Special Bonus? THE STROOP EFFECT! omg, squealz!!

*Ok, maybe just the best morning ever. Seriously though? This makes coming into work at 7:30am so much more bearable. And even better because after not being able to accomplish anything over at the hospital (boo!) [because the nurses hate me - more on that later], I have about an hour of doing whatever I want (yay!) because a) no one else is around and b) it's too early to start calling people.

reasons why i love Gossip Girl

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 19:15:15 GMT

Note: this is not the number one reason but it will be the first I highlight simply because it requires the least explanation.

This must have been blogged up the wazoo already but as always, I'm a day (or more than several) late. And I haven't spoken to anyone about this yet (then again, when do I actually speak with anyone these days?)

So, of all the people in the world that could cover Fergie's Glamorous, who should and would make the most perfect sense in doing so? Why, a CHOIR of course!

And I know you want to download the audio* too, because I sure as hell do! The mp3 included here should be the full version, but I think the video clip already has the full version too but I can't tell ya for sure because I can't watch it, because I'm at work. Whoops?

*Press the gray 'Play' button to stream, read the full post and scroll down to download it, for keeps, yo!*

Loooves it!

[Edit:] Ok, so the vid is like 20 seconds long, so NOT the full version. ENJOY!

Kiki's Delivery Service

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 20:29:02 GMT

I just spent my Saturday early afternoon watching this gem of a movie on the CW11. It's called Kiki's Delivery Service, and as much as I hate that it'd been dubbed into English, and what's more that the title character was voiced by none other than KIRSTEN DUNST, bahhh, I LOVED that I was able to see this on tv again. Especially since I have no idea where the hell my own VHS copy is. Granted, my tape was dubbed over in Chinese, but at least that's closer than in English. Except that, watching it again, I now understand a lot more of it than I did as a little girl.

In retrospect, I don't even know if I knew what was going on since much of what happens in the movie, not the actual plot, but the subtext seems unfamiliar to me. Then again, who knew what subtext even was at the age of 8? Oh man, this is awesome.

So Kiki is a thirteen year old witch who has to leave her home and go to another city and "find herself" and train her powers. She settles on this bustling city that's very different from her hometown and throughout the film, you can catch various tones of class tension that I could not have picked up on when I was younger. She finds the city threatening and unfriendly. Her black cat, Jiji, who can talk to her, wants them both to leave but Kiki is determined to stay. Especially after she meets Osono, the owner of a small bakery and she offers her room and board in turn for helping out at the shop sometimes. It is then that Kiki also starts her delivery service, deciding that her only skill thusfar is flying, she can make some money delivering things for people. There's also a boy named Tombo (hello, voice of Matt Lawrence!) who is quite enchanted by her ability to fly (he is part of something called the Aviation Club and is constructing a plane out of his bike. I don't know, whatever.) At first they clash, because Kiki feels insulted that he would dare to approach her and chat her up, thinking it rude that a boy would talk to a girl before they were introduced. Yada yada, at some point, when Kiki starts to feel depressed about being in the city, she loses her ability to fly and spends some time trying to find out why, with the help of her older sister-type, painter friend who lives in a cabin in the woods (voiced by Janeane Garofolo). Related to the loss of her powers, she also finds that she can no longer communicate with her cat. Of course, in the end, she figures things out or whatever and can fly again. And in the American version, when her cat runs up to her, we hear him (voiced by Phil Hartman, ladies and gentlemen) call her name, implying that henceforth, they can talk to her each other again. However, in the original Japanese (and Chinese dubbed) versions, this never happens. And the director, Hayao Miyazaki, has said that the cat represents the child in Kiki, and the ability for them to understand each other at the end of the film, was supposed to be an indication that she has grown up now. Why this discrepancy exists in the versions, I can't understand.

All in all, it's a rather beautiful coming-of-age story. Originally. I used to cry a little whenever I watched this movie, I don't know why, but it always made me so sad. I guess at a young age, I was already very attentative and aware of childhood loss and the fragility of innocence. It's so tender! Wah! And watching this English version on TV for the first time, I definitely got a little misty-eyed when Kiki said goodbye to her parents. Wah, emotions.

This melody has been such a big, forgotten part of my childhood, I could cry.

This is the "music video"?:

Part 1 of the Japanese version, with English subtitles (you can find the other parts listed on the sidebar:

And here's the English language version so you can hear the lovely [GAG] voice of the Dunst.

today's entry is brought to you by:

Sun, 23 Sep 2007 22:29:42 GMT

two words:

1. slop·py /ˈslɒpi/[slop-ee]
–adjective, -pi·er, -pi·est.
(of literature and behavior) Weakly or foolishly sentimental: a sloppy romance

2. spoon·er·ism (spōō'nə-rĭz'əm)
-noun
A transposition of sounds of two or more words, especially a ludicrous one, such as Let me sew you to your sheet for Let me show you to your seat.

The prolonged absence from livejournal right now is making me burst with all these things I want to share, all of them outdated, and most of them already expressed in some other shape or form. Still, here I sit, at my aunt's house, the accursed fan of Granny's overheated, two-year-old motor whirring away, my fingertips tingling with the prospect of a real entry.

Something I've noticed recently: I take for granted that I'm usually on the same page, or wavelength, or whatever, as my friends and my family. Well, my friends more often than my family, but still. And when we're not on the same page, because I guess it's so natural to think that we are, it gives way to miscommunication and misinterpretation. One of the things that I always loved and took for granted, particularly because it had always been so seamless, so automatic, was being able to finish the sentence of somebody else, or not need to finish a thought because we were on the same page. It's another one of those things that seem to go on the increasingly long list of things that we don't notice or really think about until one day it's gone. And then what happens?

But all right, real news? I have a job. Officially now. I am going in tomorrow to sign papers with Human Resources, get a physical, and drug-tested. [Good thing I didn't succumb to peer pressure, eh?] I start work next Monday, on the first of October. The new assistant researcher in a spinal cord injury lab. Not all that close to adolescent or child psychiatry, but whatevs. It's time I reassessed my long-term career goals anyway. But yay, employment!

So the closer I am to actual employment, and wage-earning, the closer my fantasy of moving out of my apartment, and maybe out of Bensonhurst is becoming a reality. Brittany and Victory came down for a fun day in the Hurst last weekend and it was beautiful. (See Carol's photos if you don't believe me.) Lately, I've been feeling so much love for my old neighborhood, and taking walks along the same routes I used to take all the time in elementary school is bringing up a long-forgotten part of my past that I actually don't mind talking about. I don't know if it's the distance now that allows for it, but I've realized that there, indeed, have been very good moments in my childhood. Relatively speaking, I do know that it really hadn't been a picnic, so to speak, but it wasn't all bad either. I'm not sure if I could have been able to see that before now. Before having been away for an extended period of time and then coming back. Before living another kind of life. Sort of.

At the same time, this newfound love also reinforces the need for me to get out of here. At the very least, I need to get out of this apartment and start all over. Make new memories and hack away at all the old, bitter attachments. It'll be great. It'll be hard to find a 3-bedroom to rent in Brooklyn, but it's not impossible. The rent will probably suck ass but at least it'll be split, more or less, between me and my mother. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself because it'll probably be a long time before this can happen. But it's going to happen.

obviously,

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 21:34:31 GMT

I thought that we were going to be together forever. Everybody thinks that. Nobody ever anticipates someone you've known and loved basically all your life just dropping out on you. Unacceptable when fathers do it, it is just as bad when a stupid boy does it. In fact, it's probably that bad because it was preceded by your father leaving. But that's beside the point.

Oliver Gold, known as Ollie to everyone in the world except his grandmother who refused to mutilate her dead husband's name, checked off a lopsided box on a discreetly small piece of paper in the second grade and became my on-again, off-again boyfriend for the next two years. We were drawn to each other right away: the redheaded Jewish boy and the Asian girl who, despite having only learned English just the year before, was the star pupil of the class. We hung around each other all the time and were teased about it mercilessly. Oddly enough, the teasing lessened and soon stopped altogether once the other kids knew that we were "dating".

My parents started threatening divorce the year I turned nine years old. It was a disgusting battle that lasted a full year out of a war that would, in many ways, last a lifetime. It was during a time when it was still surprising to hear about divorced couples, especially the Asian ones. Her whole life, my mother was unassuming, quiet. Except for the trophies she won during her own school days for volleyball competitions and the like, my mother never had a title. All of a sudden, she was Subversive. All of a sudden, her name gathered the whispered and nudged "That's her right there. Mizz Lee. Her maiden name," kind of attention at parent-teacher conferences and the afternoons when for some reason, there was a delay in dismissing us students and the parents stood idly by the school doors and started to talk.

This was when I fucked up the normal curve to life and started my angst phase four years ahead of schedule. I didn't know how to deal with the divorce and the great flaming pile of shit mess that followed afterwards. It was a pain I had never felt before, a pain I didn't know could exist. I didn't understand why or how I could have been so sad all the time, cried all the time, when nobody had died. That was what it had been like for me. It was like someone – everyone – had died. I grieved. It wasn't something I could talk about freely, that I knew without needing to be told; just as sure as I knew that strangers were not supposed to touch you. So I became moody. Downright bitchy.

I knew I was no longer a child when most of my friends couldn't believe why I didn't want to play or even talk to them anymore. It was hard to explain that I couldn't simply because I couldn't, or because I was too upset, or because I needed to spend more time with my family while I still had one, when the only question they asked me was: "Don't you like me anymore?"
There was one day in school when we had to read a story aloud together. It was about a little girl who went to the park or into the city or something with her daddy, the busy businessman, and all day long he would just do work somehow and ended up completely neglecting the daughter. She got upset and walked away from him, determined to teach him a lesson. She met all sorts of interesting people and had so much fun with all these other men (shady, I know) that she thought she was far better off without her father. It seemed like a very primitive version of Home Alone. Before we stopped for lunch, the girl had decided to stay there with strangers forever who appreciated her dances and her stories more than her father ever could and resolved to never think about him again. We were told to ponder some very heavy questions during our lunch break. Like Why do you think the little girl had so much fun with strangers than with her father? Or If you were the little girl, do you think you would have walked away like she had? Why or why not? I remember getting so furious with this fictional character that I thought any kid stupid enough to willingly desert their parents didn't deserve to have two of them and any adult stupid enough to write such a story must have hated kids, or fathers. After lunch, we picked up where we left off and when it was my turn to read a section, I refused. I offered no explanation, just flat out refused. I was a good student so the teacher didn't push it.

As the day got longer, the girl realized that her dad wasn't going to find her, or worse, even come looking. She thought he didn't want her anymore and, realizing that she had been wrong to even think that she didn't need her father, started crying hysterically, weeping for the father who had abandoned her. Even though it was she who had walked off, I remember thinking. Like, This girl is a fucking brat. Then, magically, her dad appeared out of nowhere and told her that he'd been terrified all day, running around like crazy, worried, and the girl tearfully looked up at him like, "Really?" and the father said, "Of course, honey. You're my daughter." The girl said, "I thought you weren't coming to find me. I thought you were going to leave me," and the father said, "I am never going to leave you." It was a ridiculous story. I had no idea why we read it.

At this point, the girl sitting next to me in class noticed that I was crying, silently, but fairly violently with heaving tremors and everything. Having all the tact of a freaked out nine-year-old, she brought everybody's attention to my booger-streaked face. I then ran out of the classroom, locked myself in a stall in the girls' bathroom, and spent the rest of the afternoon in the nurse's office. I claimed I was sick. Nobody phoned home. No counselor was called - thanks a lot, Department of Education! No one cared.

The next day at lunch, just when I thought that maybe nobody remembered, all my classmates treated me like whatever had caused my meltdown was contagious and, except to taunt me, nobody came near me. Nobody except these three girls who would end up being my best friends: Sarah, Annie, and Laurel - the four of us already making up the majority of the Asian female population in our grade. More would trickle into the system behind us though. And by "trickle," I mean invade at an exponential rate. Anyway, they stayed with me because they knew what was happening at home and generally because they are the greatest human beings I have ever known. Already at that young age, my friends were doing all they could to protect me. Annie eyed the cafeteria carefully, ready to throw punches if I got teased. Sarah and Laurel made a valiant collective effort to get our lives moving on. Laurel by distraction and Sarah by way of talking it out, reasoning as best as she could. "No one's going to remember by tomorrow. Or even care. You're still cool," she said. For the most part, these roles have not changed much over the years.

Then Oliver Gold made a beeline for my table and plunked his lunch-sack down next to me. So caught up with my parents' divorce, I had been ignoring Ollie for the past few months. Our relationship was off again at this point and would never be on again but I did not care because after this, Ollie became real to me.

"That story was retarded," he said. "She would never have made it through the end of the day alive." His words were probably not as eloquent but he said something to that effect.

"My mom's kicking my dad out," I said.

Ollie nodded grimly, understanding but not understanding. And then he hugged me. Not an arm around the shoulder, pat kind of hug. Fully engaged, both arms wrapped around me hug. The boys in our class called him "Fruity Ollie" for weeks until he reasserted his masculinity by beating up one of them.

It was then, I think, that I decided I was going to love him forever.

lazies

Fri, 15 Jun 2007 22:23:48 GMT

"Can you pile all of those items into a single bowl and just kinda make them into a wet mound of starch that I can eat with a spoon..? -- Patton Oswalt takes on the KFC Bowl

The skit itself, from an early appearance on Conan. I now recognize the guy as one of Kevin James's friends from the King of Queens. The KFC Bowl is at the 2:55-ish mark. All the rest before that is about old ladies having sex and giving birth. I'd skip it if I were you..

Of course, this is all my way of saying "I want one!" and lamenting the lack of a KFC in my vicinity. Emphasis on the word "vicinity."

it's not yet time

Sat, 05 May 2007 07:05:49 GMT

for THAT post but it's almost 3am on a friday night and after everyone has left my room, i lost all motivation for/pretenses of studying for my human rights final.

i was (and still am) considering going to bed when this song popped up on my shuffling iTunes and i just got so ridiculously sad, i just had to share it with you.

with my own two hands
-- jack johnson with ben harper (from Curious George soundtrack)

i can change the world
with my own two hands
make it a better place
with my own two hands
make it a kinder place
with my own two hands
with my own, with my own two hands

i can make peace on earth
with my own two hands
i can clean up the earth
with my own two hands
i can reach out to you
with my own two hands
with my own, with my own two hands
with my own, with my own two hands

im gonna make it a brighter place
with my own two hands
im gonna make it a safer place
with my own two hands
im gonna help the human race
with my own two hands
with my own, with my own two hands
with my own, with my own two hands

i can hold you
in my own two hands
and i can comfort you
with my own two hands
but you got to use
use your own two hands
use your own, use your own two hands
use your own, use your own two hands

with our own, with our own two hands
with our own, with our own two hands

with my own, with my own two hands

It's actually very corny, I know, but that's really how I roll anyway, so who am I trying to kid?

But just between you and me - and I'm going to say this now and get it out of the way so it has no place in another entry that I will probably write Tuesday night or next Monday night -
i have never been more scared in my entire life.

i miss my youth..

Wed, 11 Apr 2007 23:14:29 GMT

Ducktales!

RingPop!

DarkWing Duck!

TMNT Drug PSA!

Goosebumps!

Honey Nut Cheerios! Scrooge!

Don't you wish you were in the 3rd grade again?

fun fun fun!

Wed, 11 Apr 2007 05:07:29 GMT

Copied and pasted from Lizzy (ofthingsunsaid)

• Go to IMDB.com and look up 10 of your favorite TV shows. (Or more... maybe?)
• Post three official IMDB "Plot Keywords" for these 10 picks.
• Have your friends guess the show names.

1. Brother Brother Relationship / Missing Father / Suspense
2. Crooked Cop / Death Row / Gang
3. Awkward / Quirky / Prank
4. Religion / Extinction / Female Killer
5. Class Conflict / Dead Girl / Neo Noir
6. Wealthy / Teen / Gossip
7. Explosion / Engineering / Urban Legend
8. Science / Bullet / Investigation
9. Gun Nut / Smuggling / Spacecraft
10. Doomed Romance / Death / Supernatural
11. Conflicted Hero / Karaoke / Curse
12. Bully / Marijuana / Dungeons And Dragons
13. Band / Beach / Family

phantom limb (1,2)

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 06:09:05 GMT

[The timing on this entry may be way off, but then again, I was never one to be too keen on noticing such things. ]

1. The sensation that an amputated or missing limb is still attached to the body." -- wikipedia
2. "Follow the lines and wonder why / There's no connection." -- The Shins, "Phantom Limb"

I was in the library the other day and I didn't know which playlist to have on in the background that wouldn't distract me too much so I went with "Songs to Write a Paper By"

1. Flowers in the Window - Travis
2. Say Yes - Elliott Smitth
3. I've Just Seen a Face - The Beatles
4. Baby, Let's Rock - Zwan
5. Fire in My Heart - Super Furry Animals
6. How Can You Be Sure (When I'm Like This) - Radiohead
7. The Cello Song - Nick Drake
8. My Head Is In The Sun - The Rentals
9. Sweet Jane - The Velvet Underground
10. Kid Things - Counting Crows
11. The Day Brings - Brad
12. See You Soon - Coldplay
13. The Man In Me - Bob Dylan
14. A Lack of Color - Death Cab for Cutie
15. Parachutes - Guster
16. Leather Jacket - Ben Folds Five
17. Complainte De La Butte - Rufus Wainwright
18. Sylvia Plath - Ryan Adams
19. Burned - Wilco
20. Staralfur - Sigur Ros
21. El Scorcho - Weezer
22. Would You Be My Neighbor? - Mr. Rogers .

I hadn't gotten very far down the list when I started aching. Powerfully and dully at the same time. Every now and then, when I hear a song from that CD, something shifts inside of me. I, of course, imagine some old tired muscle stretching and trying to loosen up a crick deep inside somewhere. That's what my nostalgia for Tim, for that whole phase of my life, feels like.
It never fully occurred to me that I was his rebound until I, as per my usual stalkerish ways, found out he got engaged to the girlfriend he had back home. Before me. And if I recall correctly, the only one before me? Well, actually, I guess it's the only one before and after me, isn't it? How's that for filler space?

I can't help but wonder why I keep having these all-consuming, meaningful relationships with guys who are so completley not interpreting it the same way or even asking for the same thing. I guess that's why I have such a hard time defining these relationships - because of course I have to define them - because they're so different from what anyone expects of a first love. Does it count as a first love if that love isn't reciprocated? Reciprocated being a very general euphemism for, I don''t know, deceit? Which in turn is another euphemism for whatever the hell Roger was.

Anyway, Roger wasn't the point. The point was Tim. And what I have come to realize he meant, or means, to me.
Although brief, and weird, and doomed from the start, it was the healthiest relationship [out of the many two in my college career] I'd been in. And so, this time of year, I tend to think about him some. It's a warm kind of thinking. Not the kind that torments and hurts me like my other types of nostalgia.

Like I said before, it's a gut reaction to recognizing any remnant of the past I shared with Tim and whatever aching I have is in reference to the end of all that. My phantom limb. It explains why I keep an eye out on the trees on the lawn to check for signs of cherry blossoms. Why I pause midsentence when I recognize any one of the 18 or so songs I had never heard until they were burned onto a CD for me three years ago. Why when it just starts to get warm out and I walk through the quad and I wind up sitting on a bench somewhere outside and smell the sun on my skin and feel it burning in my hair, or why when I come back to the apartment and it smells vaguely and feels also like bricks that have been baking in the sun, I always feel just a twinge of grief.

I want to clarify that by using this limb metaphor, I am not implying that I feel as though Tim is still a part of me - that I'm still dwelling on that. But, in the end, what i take, or took?, from that relationship will always be a part of me even though nothing else is.

And if anything, I welcome these memories because above all else, whatever the relationship meant, we had good times together and for what it was worth, I think they were genuine. It's a lovely feeling, actually. The tiniest hint of sadness that's ultimately overpowered by... love, love for love's sake, and faith in love. It tells me that I should still have faith in love.

That's actually funny now that I think about it..

going back to the basics

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 18:00:14 GMT

No more frilly-nilly stuff. After a brief flirtation, I've realized that snazzy "bloggish" types are not for my precious lj. So back to basics it is. Well, as close as I can get it without it being fugly. And you will just have to ignore the ads on the side - a HUGE mistake on my part.

I wish THE SUPER SQUARE could be together more often. There's always someone missing.
I had the most brutal time chillin with Carol and Jenn the last weekend of spring break. It was the perfect end, despite the weathers genuine efforts, to an otherwise dull and semi-annoying week. And Cil came home for spring break on Friday so we (the Square minus one, and Kristen) went to see The Namesake last night and I proceeded to sob. My face was completely wet with tears. But it was a good cry. Kind of. Better than the time I cried during Jersey Girl - which I know I am never going to live down but people should really stop making fun of me for it because it's just tactless - but we all have our crosses to bear. Whatever, I know I'm crazy anyway, so whatever, keep 'em comin'.

I'm a bit amused right now because I just sent my Adolescent Psych professor an email telling her I had to postpone our meeting back to 3pm today and when she emailed me a response back, the only thing in her email was the word, "Fine." I think she's all huffy now. Which is Fine. by me. I don't need to get on her good side. I don't even want to get on her good side. [This is the same woman who talks to us and treats us like a buncha middle- schoolers.] This is also the same woman who mysteriously lost my paper and made me send it to her immediately after class. She also accosted me as I was entering the classroom on Monday to tell me this. So picture it: I walk in in. I need to step around her corner of the table to get to the seats by the window. She sees me. She stands up with that grandmotherly look she has with her arms outstretched towards me. I freak the fuck out and I'm pretty sure it was apparent all over my frickin face. But then she grabs me firmly by the shoulders and I believe I am shaken, you know, like the way you're not supposed to with a baby, and she tells me she lost my paper.

What the fuck, right? And this last half totally ruined my original intended theme to the post but I was just so thrown I had to, um, throw it in here. Bah. I'll redeem myself in a few days.

we never change, do we?

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 19:24:31 GMT

I had a really long morning today. Not only did it start too early but my body hasn't adjusted to the rude change in time so when I "normally" would have fallen asleep at 5am, to the rest of the Eastern United States, it was 6am. Which also follows that when I was jostled awake three hours later at 9am, to me it felt like 8. It was still three hours, but somehow knowing that just one day ago it would have been 8am and not remembering when the last time I got up at 8am was just made me more upset.

And arriving at Social Services already pissed off is never a good mindset. And then it took forever to get back to Bensonhurst because the trains run so fucked-uply in the middle of the day and plus, Harry and I had to go out of our way to return the monthly Metrocard back to Mom so she can use it later - like, literally stepping foot outside of the train station and walking a long few blocks to another train station to hand it over because we were told the N would be skipping those stops and of course our mother didn't think it was necessary to bring her cell phone with her, because what could possibly go wrong, right?! So we had to walk over there from one train station to the next because we knew she was already waiting and there was no way to tell her, "Hey. this is going to be a pain in the ass." And then by the time we get there, we realize that the N is running just fine, contrary to what the train conductor told us 15 minutes prior.

We were not happy. Not happy at all. And then Harry and Mom started screaming at each other in their crazy adolescent and just plain crazy ways. So then I had to stifle my own aggravation and try to do damage control. In public. Which is always nice.

Horrid.

And then on Wednesday, I have to take her to see a hand surgeon and function as a translator, because after all, that's what I apparently do best.

Also, I tried approaching the subject of my postgraduate living arrangements with my mother Saturday night. Her reaction is making me very afraid to bring it up again. But I know I will have to, sooner or later.

These are going to be the longest few days ever.

Why am I such a petty person?

seriously?

Fri, 09 Mar 2007 22:25:07 GMT

I have no other words, but whatever!

Spring Break! Woot! Happy Spring Break, folks!

a lesson on drinking brought to you by Stephen Colbert & Steve Carell

it's been so long

Thu, 08 Mar 2007 02:04:28 GMT

My friends, it's been so long since I've logged into the livejournal client that I forgot my password. I noticed that the last time I posted an entry was almost precisely 3 months ago and that shit just won't fly. What's even more unsettling is I feel I don't even have things I can say. And by that, I mean I don't have anything post-worthy, not that I do and I feel I am incapable of posting. Yeah. Ok.

I'm cutting this entry like whoa to go easy on the listspace. I post such long entries, sigh.

I guess I can rant about how absolutely retarded my Adolescent Psych seminar is. It's seriously.. like, I can't even put it into words. She treats us like we're still in high school. At our oldest, that is. Like, we have to work in groups and write down the things we come up with using RoseArt washable markers and newsprint - which I only learned the word for this semester. Remember in kindergarten or first grade, when you had story time and you all sat down on the floor and instead of writing on the board, your teacher would have this giant easel with what looked like a giant notepad on it and write down words on it with a Sharpie and flip the pages over the easel? Yeah... Did I also mention that in working in groups, she doesn't really let us choose who to work with? Twice now, I've been assigned my partners. Which, whatever, not a big deal, but I'd like to think that I'm capable, as a 22 year-old person, of choosing who I want to work with and whatnot.

For our first assignment, we had to write a 2-page paper reflecting on our adolescence. Let me tell you how much I struggled with that. I resorted to rereading old old livejournal entries from burnthalo to try and piece together something. And, um, I just want to say that i'm really glad that phase of my life is over and done with. Somewhat.

In other news, Kristen has given me a new name. Nie turned into Nieffs (she decided one "f" wasn't good enough) which morphed into Nieffer, which spawned a Nieffenstein. Actually, Nie and Nieffenstein are the opposite ends of a continuous spectrum on which ~~one~~ Kristen can find many different forms of my name at various lengths. Like a rainbow.

The rest of this post, I've decided, is going to be in list form to run through things I would like to share with the world. And it's also going to be cut, because this entry is getting too long for my own liking.

- I love The Office.
- I've always loved Supernatural, despite the fact that I hardly ever got to watch episodes because there were so many other things that were on at the same time, but since the cw started streaming their eps, and I started downloading*, and Kristen got me Season One on DVD for my birthday, I am fully submerged in Winchester love.
- I am, however, not a proponent of Wincest love. That's super ick, man.
- Speaking of which, I also love Prison Break. And when I went home for Chinese New Year, I spent a good deal recapping the first season and the second season so far for my mother. In Chinese. Oh, yes. And then when I came back, that Monday I called her to recap the episode for her before she watched it so she could understand it as she was watching it. I have not, however, given her recaps since then.
- *I was blocked from the interweb by Barnard this weekend because I forgot about an episode of The Office that I had been downloading and so, indirectly let it reupload back onto the BitTorrent server, or "seed," whatever, and NBC fired off an angry email to Columbia, who emailed Banard, who tracked Granny down and yanked her off the network. Not to worry, because I signed a piece of paper saying I wouldn't download things illegally ever again and was allowed to be interwebbing once more. And before I left, the comp tech person told me that if I were to continue with this dangerous behavior, I should really figure out a way to prevent people from uploading from me, because that's how they catcha. So.. take that as a lesson, folks. Don't be generous and don't pay it forward.
- My brother turned 18 today. Weird.
- I haven't started looking for jobs yet. Eep.
- Second semester senior? How on earth... ?
- I've been mentally sorting people in my life these days as those whom I think of as lasting friends and those who may not be. The second category isn't really much of a definite category as it is... well, a funny feeling I guess. Or speculation about things. I don't know. This could just be a result of me being angry at some people lately. And by angry, I mean annoyed. And by lately, I don't mean that within a constant context.
- Related to that, I've been getting really emotional lately thinking about how it's already March and the countdown to graduation has begun and it's creeping me out to think that after May, I won't be living with my friends anymore. It's terrifying me to picture not spending the majority of my time around my roommates. It's also weirding me out that this reaction greatly differs from my reaction to graduating from high school. I mean, it is different. On many levels, so... never mind.

Ok, that oughta do it for now.

today is going to suck

Tue, 05 Dec 2006 14:00:42 GMT

ok i'm a huge fan of cosmic irony and any form of irony for that matter to the extent that i sometimes egg things on, spur thigns on whatever, help it on its way.
but current music this morning is total coincidence i swear.

i'm an asshole so i don't deserve to complain about not getting much sleep last night (ok two nights ago) and not getting literally any yesterday. forgive me if my times words are all fucked up - if i don't go to bed and experience darkness, the day's not over. imagine the utter confusion/sadness when i see this when i come home from the library around 7:30am this morning and she tells me that we blew a fuse last night. i was all thinking sunday night when really.. she meant monday. monday at 7pm to be relatively exact. 12 hrs prior to the conversation. talk about weird.

so now i'm trying to stay awake because class is at 11 and if i go to sleep, i will surely not wake for at least 7 hours. and to stay up all night finishing a 10-pg paper for a class in which you kick the most ass and then miss it would be suicide-worthy.

so to keep myself occupied, it's actually not working all that well because all the typing is tirng me out like whoa, here are some songs that you should totally download.

current covers & remixes i love:

pink nasty covers usher (burn)
ok, never heard of her before but this song sounds super nice and classy coming out of her mouth. plus, you know, i love usher.

Flaming Lips - Do You Realize (Postal Service Remix)
gotta love those synth pop beats

Damien Rice - Cannonball (Spike Mix)
SO. GOOD.

Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out (Hot Chip remix)
also pretty damned good.

enjoy.

follow-up to previous entry in which Carol is blamed...**

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 05:07:42 GMT

Aside from the rut that I am in now - that being that I'm supposed to be writing a series of responses right now or the 10-15 page paper (both due Tuesday) but can't write anything beyond "Week Seven - Asian American Aesthetics - Documentary // The films this week" - I have been in a major musical rut for what appears to be a really long time now.

Exhibit A.

These are the top 30 songs on my iTunes. Notice the dates last played.
Not that I'm necessarily ashamed. Well, causes for embarrassment include #s: 17, 19, mildly 20, and 28.*
I mean, this is some pretty great stuff. And this only goes as far as October 2005. And it doesn't include songs that I don't finish listening to.
Whatever.

And if you squint and look at what song is currently being played, we move on to Exhibit B.

Exhibit B.

I have just today discovered Ben Fold's cover of TPS's "Such Great Heights." How is this possible? TODAY, people. TODAY. Ugh. I am disgusted.

So then of course, I had to find some sort of visual counterpart to this.

Watch his hands go! It's MANIC! And watch it to the end. It's kinda great.

*this shit just will not fly.

** ... and is now thanked. :)

Daft Punk - Around The World

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 03:02:21 GMT

I blame Carol for this.

Fri, 06 Oct 2006 03:34:09 GMT

the joy of eating yummy foods like brownies, homemade fried rice, haagen daz bailey's ice cream, is ruined when you can't breathe through your nostrils, thereby not actually tasting anything that you've ingested.
see, i just popped three of those entenmann's brownie bites into my mouth. got nothin'.

the fall tv season started this week with a mightily anticipated bang. though grey's anatomy already started a few weeks ago, there were three premieres this week. veronica mars on tuesday (ratings kinda sucked, but they weren't so far behind gilmore girls, which isn't all that bad of a sign. whatevs.) lost yesterday. and battlestar tomorrow! whoo! speaking of which, dig the new icon? i loooooove it. i loves me some nice nakie man. mmm.

i am such a shipper. the only thing missing from this picture is the fanfic.

i'm bored.

a day - actually four years if you're counting - late

Wed, 13 Sep 2006 04:49:19 GMT

I always intentionally avoid entries on or about the anniversary of September 11th. [Sometimes, I post entries, yeah, but they're not real entries. At best, they are very superficial reflections. If such a thing even exists.] If not because the almost immediate commodification of the tragedy that sprang up all over the streets of the city in forms of cheap prints sadly testifying that We Shall Never Forget made me and probably will always continue to make me look back on the events of 9/11 with severe distaste, then because I can give no more perspective or trade a story that is no different or more memorable than anyone else I know. I wasn't there. Yes, what happened affects us all. Yes, I was most definitely in the city; I was in school, hanging out in the Bio Office during my "lunch" period, we stayed in school all day. Things were beyond confusing and hectic.
I had my own experiences, but I still feel like I wasn't affected by it. I wasn't traumatized by it. We all react in different ways, we heal in different ways, for sure. But what I think I'm trying to get at is, I don't feel like I have anything to heal from.

Although, looking back at the first year, I do remember the sense of confusion and helplessness I felt for a long time after that. I do remember being paranoid, remember feeling that tightening grip in my chest every time I thought the sound of an aircraft flying overhead was louder, and thus closer, than it should have been. That same tightening that resurfaced everytime the W crossed the bridge and I saw the huge void standing in for buildings that I never once stepped foot in (not including the shopping concourse that ran underneath it) that I never knew I would miss seeing - a void that was unmistakably out of place and painfully errant.

Over time, things changed. The void became not-so-vacuous. The t-shirts and reprinted photographs all but disappeared, or slipped under my detection. Color coded threat levels were no longer so salient. I still remember the weird acrid scent that lingered in the air for days - and remember how horrified I was when I realized what the smell was - and the sight of random sheets of paper floating around in the air that day - and being confused by it, and then again horriifed when I realized they came from the Towers - but I don't think about that anymore. Et cetera, et cetera.

I lit candles the first anniversary, burned them down til it was a wee stump. After that, I sort of unconsciously decided that I didn't need to purposefully grieve for 9/11 to mean anything to me. I don't need to make a silly post on livejournal telling everyone how I feel, I don't need to join the millions down at Ground Zero to pay my respects, I don't need to attend any of the services that the school is offering. Honestly, I would never wake up early enough to partake in the moments of silence. I wanted to go down to Ground Zero this year. I never made it but I'm glad I didn't because the sheer number of people there would have driven me cynically insane. I also didn't manage to catch a glimpse of the tribute lights, which is disappointing. I settled for other people's posts (newyorkers) instead.

But whatever, my real point is: this year is different. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm graduating college this year and that in itself is another big change and I can't look back on my life without incorporating 9/11 into it. Maybe it's because this could very well be the last 9/11 anniversary that I will be in New York and be a New Yorker and own a piece of it. Maybe it's because I miraculously started getting the newspapers the Times Scholarship promised me and it was right around this time and there was extensive, exquisite coverage on 9/11 in Monday's issue and the photographs and photo essays moved me. Maybe I'm posting now because I just came back from Eliot Spitzer's Primary Night Party on 131st Street and he said some really great, inspirational things that I actually sort of believe he will do and it makes me hopeful? Maybe, maybe I'm just full of shit.

Keith Myers, photographer for the Times, has been in the business for decades. And for decades, he had used the Towers as the backdrop in many of his photos. In the photo essay entitled "Elegy for an Icon" that was included in Monday's full coverage special on 9/11's fifth anniversary, he said, about the last photo in the slideshow:

When I made the photograph of the Trade Towers in the fog, I was in the State Park focusing on the trees in the fog, when all of a sudden, the fog opened up a little bit and I saw the top of the two towers and I snapped the photograph. A few minutes later, they were gone. Like they are now. And sometimes, when I'm down in the waterfront in the fog, I just kinda expect them to be there.

Fri, 01 Sep 2006 03:12:42 GMT

never mind what i said about florida...

two reasons why i love "the namesake"

Wed, 30 Aug 2006 03:54:16 GMT

Eventually, with his index finger, he grazes his father's mustache, an eyebrow, a bit of the hair on his head, those parts of him, he knows, that are still quietly living.**

. . .

He sees her for entire weekends without make-up, sees her with gray shadows under her eyes as she types papers at her desk, and when he kisses her head he tastes the oil that accumulates on her scalp between shampoos. He sees the hair that grows on her legs between waxings, the black roots that emerge between appointments at the salon, and in these moments, these glimpses, he believes he has known no greater intimacy.

- - - - - - - - - -

I can't help but hear Robin Messing's voice in my head as I read the second quote over, inciting me to, "Show, don't tell." That damned philosophy of hers will stick with me forever and plague my writing, both academic and leisure with long, overflowing sentences, filled with excrutiating rambling detail. It may also appear that I've incorporated this philosophy into my very being and way of life. Hm.

What stands out to me the most is and when he kisses her head he tastes the oil that accumulates on her scalp between shampoos. Unfrickingbelievable.

**This literally stopped my breath. I was on the platform at 125th Street one morning, waiting for the 6 to pull up, fighting back tears and I just.. froze. It is so fucking simple! Fucking exquisite! Guuuhhhhhh.

survey says... oh, right: Barnard, what what

Sun, 20 Aug 2006 03:14:48 GMT

First of all, Step Up is indeed the movie that will define our generation. It is frickin awesome. I will SO frickin see it a second or third time. For serious. Jesus Christ I am so fucking obsessed with Channing Tatum. So. Hot.

Moving on..

(stolen from Sandy's blog)
Fill this out and place your college as the subject.

College
Barnard College

When you first attended, where did you live?
Sulz 6, bitches!

Who was/were your roommates? Freshman Year:
Eve

Sophomore:
Pimptown (or Plimpton, whatevs) with Lizzy, Amy, Amelia and Katy

Junior:
616 w/ Kristen, Jen, Jess, Theresa and Lizzy

Senior:
620 w/ Kristen, Jen, Jess, Lizzy, and Theresa in spirit

Do you still talk to them?
Well, yes. Some more infrequently than others.

Ever get in trouble in the dorms?
Of course not.

Something you remember when you lived on campus?
I will probably never forget my unfortunately one too many roach experiences in 616. *SHUDDER!*

First party attended?
Prob the one that we threw soph year.

Favorite Pizza Place?
Koronet's, by default

Favorite place to go out to eat?
Kitchenette, "Cafe" Swish

Who had the best wings?
Beats me.

Did you go to the library?
More in my jr year than the other two combined...and still not that often. :/

What was your Favorite Floor you'd always be on?
um.. my own?

Where did you buy your books?
Dogears, Labyrinth, CU Bookstore

Ever attend a sporting event?
Hahahah, sports at Columbia.... but yes. And we lost. But it was close! Mmm basketball players... Do we have a lacross team?!

Ever attend a concert or comedic performance?
Yes. Sorta. Probably.

Have you ever spent the night on campus not in a dorm hall?
Um.. no.

Favorite night to go out on, and where did you go?
Fridays, Saturdays. Wherever. The movies. The bars. Out to dinner. Yada yada.

Where did you get coffee?
If I am up too late to make my own, the cart man on the corner, Starbucks on 114th, Java City if I'm desperate. But usually my own. Cafe Bustelo!

Favorite Year of Halloween?
Well I only really had *one* so junior? I don't know about that though... shady times..

Go see a play or been in one?
Seeing lotsa plays comes with the territory of being friends with people who are into theater/friends wsith people who work in the theater department/stalking people part of the acting circle.

Ever have a job?
Ah, yes. The beloved Balsam Lab, who deprive me of hard-earned and in my own op well-deserved author rights. But let's not get into that.

What do you hate about your college?
Stupid people. The expenses of being in school in NYC. The stupidass rivalry between Barnard and Columbia.

What did/do you love most about it?
Being close to home. The awesomeness that are my mentors/advisors/"foster parents". Living in an "apartment". {Some of] the people and the memories I made with them. The film/TV shoots. The nooks and crannies I can hide in.

Where would you believe is the best location to live in?
Mm.. prob 600. 620 for the doubles-phobes.

Graduated or still attending?
Still attending.

Year of graduation?
OH SEVEN

Will you go back?
...wait, what?

How many parking tickets have you gotten there?
None because I don't drive. But if I were Amy.........

Finally, ever gotten arrested?
wtf, mate. No.

Bah. Worthless.

ps. I am trying to find an mp3 of ThisWay's "Crawl," which, if you remember, was the song used in the Faces of the WB campaign in 1999. Need a link? Good God I miss the WB.