MOMMY

    I WANT ONE

(hedgehogbabies)

Bruises

A slice across my right breast. Bruises on my knee. A scab on my elbow. As painful as they are I love them. There is something really appealing about injuries, that are especially wonderful when you got them from skinny dipping in fountains with your friends. It's also wonderful when your body is wounded but you're all around content in the soul and are still in love with someone for over a year in your heart. And that person is visiting in a month. 

The only thing I might want to watch out for is my drinking problems. And how I can sometimes be a very angry and irresponsible drunk. I've been drunk this entire week. Like, belligerent and there hasn't been a good median any of the times. I need to be cautious as to avoid embarrassing myself. As in like not calling Ivy and Kevin O'Hal 10 times each over the course of 5 minutes to try and keep them from making out. 

Fall Frolic is on the 15th and I'm super excited. I need to purchase a megaphone STAT. Fall Frolic is when all the clubs get together on the lawn and set up tables to try and convince people to join. I have this great plan of dressing up with Ivy and reading sexy passages of Anais Nin's short erotica over a megaphone. And putting up pictures of my pink pubes all over the table for decor. I don't think people could resist. 

I'm thinking this passage...

"Now she was in the cabin of the smooth Spaniard, Dalvedo. Daledo was peeling some cactus figs for her, and talking. Mathild was regaining confidence. She sat on the arm of a chair in her red velvet evening dress.

But the peeling of the figs was interrupted. Dalvedo rose and said, "You have the most seductive little mole on your chin." She thought that he would try to kiss her. But he didn't. He unbuttoned himself quickly, took his penis out and, with the gesture of an apche to a woman of the streets, said, "Kneel."

And Mathilde again struck, then moved towards the door.

"Don't go," he begged, "you drive me crazy. Lok at the state you put me in. I was like this all evening when I danced with you. You can't leave me now."

He tried to embrace her. As she struggled to elude him he came all over her dress. She had to cover herself with her evening cape to regain her cabin."

We all wanna know the cause

Got to see Broken Social Scene for free last night at Swat. Incredible show. Unfortunately Emily Haines didn't burst out from a curtain to sing Anthems, but they did the song with some other girl singing anyway. Also played Cause=Time which was incredible. Basically got to lay right on the stage, it was awesome. Riki, Hope and I got super lucky and were the last ones squeezed into a small van, and got to sneak in through a back door super late and somehow still managed to get right front and center. A nice night to top off the last couple of shitty days. I did however get more injuries when we went skinny dipping in the fountain that I will post on a later entry when I figure out how to photoshop them to not look retarded on here. 

I haven't done any homework this weekend and have completely forgotten how to motivate myself. I should probably stop watching episodes of daria and figure that out.

A series of hellafuckingshitty events

So even though the last few days have been full of fun and new friends, the last couple of days have truly taken a toll on me. I don't think I've ever been happier to stay in on a Friday night. 

Last night was the worst night I've had in a long time. I met up with Ned after my Penn class (which I'm super stoked for, Video production, yay!) and was convinced into coming to Pilam's first Happy Hour of the year. I had a lot of fun but made sure I left early to make it to the train station in time for the last train out to Bryn Mawr. I also took a cab to insure my early arrival. So I make it early and while I'm waiting on the bench I double check to see if my ticket is in my wallet, and it is all fine and safe. I see I still have 5 mins to pee, so I rush to the bathroom, and somehow between then and when I rushed back my wallet was gone. Either it fell out and someone took it (I checked the bathroom and my running path, as well as the bench) or somehow someone stole it out of my bag. So I'm stuck in Philly for the night with no money,very little battery left in my phone, and no cigarettes ( and no one will let me buy them because my ID is stolen in my wallet.) So I call Ned and whine to him and he tells me I can stay at his house and he'll lend me the money to take the train the next morning. But somehow there is a miscommunication and I end up walking 12 blocks in pinchy shoes and 1/4 of a missing toenail (ouch!) and wait around for another hour until he comes and we leave for his house. That night I decided since I had undergone so much stress, it was legit for me to skip class the next morning seeing as I'd have to wake up at 7 in order to make it and wouldn't have time to get a new bank card and cancel my account.

So I wake up around 11, poop in Ned's toilet and clog it and embarrassingly have to own up to the situation. Ned instructs me with how to deal with it then lends me the money to take the train. (Shout out to Ned for being the most helpful person ever.) I decide after I get my bank card I will go shopping and have a really nice lunch to make me feel better. Unfortunately I can't find any restaurants where I want to eat so just end up eating at Qdoba. I check all my usual stores and find nothing appealing. Lastly I check FYE to buy a sweet video game but can't find anything interesting except the new soul calibur, which I pick out only to find that it is not in stock. So finally I give up, ask a stranger to buy me a pack of cigarettes (which was weird doing again) and head home. When I get home I decide to eat a nice bowl of microwavable chicken noodle soup and taken a nice warm shower to calm myself down. While in the shower I reach down into my shower caddy to grab my face wash only to find that my finger has landed right onto my razor instead and slit half of a cm of the tip off into a hinge. (You can't see it too well in the picture but believe me it is pretty disgusting.) It doesn't stop bleeding for 15 minutes and I have to scramble around naked trying to take care of it. Nonetheless it's been a pretty rough first week and I've never been more excited to just stay at home and do homework for the rest of the weekend.

The Waiting Room

Have been listening to Animal Collective's strawberry jam non-stop since I've been here. This album is so incredible and the sort of upbeat direction I'd love to take with music. Today was super sunny and I spent it mostly by myself and was so happy today for some reason. Just sort of became ok with everything. Walked over to food source and bought a sandwich and ice coffee and just lingered at a patio table for over an hour just enjoying the weather and listening to music by myself. I love days like that.

The last week was spent settling into being back at college and the like. I'm all moved in and my room is surprisingly quite spacious and comfortable. Love my roommate. Love my wii. Love cooking mama. Love skinny dipping in the cloisters. Loving life.

Had some quality father/daughter bonding time for like the first time in my life on Saturday. We went to New Hope which is like an hour North of Philly, my dad's hometown he hadn't visited in 20 years and bumped into random people he knew from forever ago. Was super emotional cause he used to be a drug addict and was coming back sober and successful. It was nice. It made me wonder if I hadn't been back to Eugene for 20 years what I'd be feeling and who I'd bump into. 

I've been working on a short story called the "waiting room," that's about a woman who wakes up in the middle of the night and drives to a waiting room and waits to see a doctor. It's all about this idea that we're always waiting for something in life, and ends up being a huge metaphor for life in the way in which we're always waiting for something permanent, and in the end how the only thing we have to wait for, and what we've been waiting for all along is death. And the god is in the form of a doctor and all that allegorical bullcrap. Maybe I'll post it when it's done.

I've been feeling pretty weird about this limbo period. Lately I've been feeling like I'm in a waiting room. Waiting for school to be over, waiting for a home (not dancing back and forth from Eugene and Philly, my parents house and a dorm), waiting for a permanent lover, a career, life to become "real life." But then I remember there's not much I can do about it and go back to playing cooking mama.

Masculin Feminin

I was lurking Cassidy's blog and found this entry particularly interesting:

"In America, femininity is masculine. Our women are all fourty nine percent man. We like iron-thighed girls with sparkling impish eyes and firm handshakes. We die for them."

I have to say, being in Korea, I'd have to strongly agree with the sentiment. Maybe not 49%, but certainly a far larger portion of masculinity in women is found much more attractive in American women than Asia. Korea particularly I find myself feeling extremely masculine. Most every girl here truly fulfills the submissive asian girl stereotype. I was reading in a cafe today and a couple next to me were discussing what they like in individuals, and the guy flat out said "I can't stand girls with short hair" right next to me! All of the girls have long flowing locks, never leave the house without a pair of heels and a designer handbag. Women are shunned if they smoke in public. I haven't seen a single girl with tattoos or piercings. Many of the asian guys I've talked to (all of which drink and smoke) say they think girls shouldn't drink or smoke at all. Most are so thin and fragile they appear as if they're about to break. All of them just scream high maintenance, which I think is something that American culture now looks down upon. I think it's because the women have to be hyper feminine in order to balance the feminity of asian men. 

Darwinism

Last night I went out to the bars with a bunch of the friends I've made here and it turned into dramafest supreme. Woke up this morning really bummed out about it, but then went shopping and got a cute flapper dress and went to the Samsung art museum with my aunt. Saw some Andy Warhol and some really sweet modern art installations, including one by Yoshimoto Nara of a cottage filled with drawings of all his characters (one of which is the picture above.) Cameras weren't allowed, but I snuck a couple of pictures anyway, I'll post them tomorrow maybe. Now instead of going out on a Saturday night I am drunk in my little humid room finishing up a Moveable Feast. There is a lovely passage Hemingway writes about Scott Fitzgerald I thought I'd share.

" His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a buttefly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless."