Tuesday, September 21, 2010

I am moving to pinkpipe.com, see ya there.

Friday, September 3, 2010

The Inception Dream World

El Capitan

Diamondhead State Monument in Hawaii

I think I should record my dream before I forget.

I wanted to write it down this morning, but was in my usual I'm-frantic-as-I-get-ready-for-work state. Which is unfortunate because perhaps I have forgotten key aspects to the dream, or now this is lost in translation...

I was in Tahoe last week so most likely this is where the setting for the dream came to be...I was in some kind of national forest. In my dream it was assuredly Diamond Head State Monument, which is funny because that park is in Hawaii (I've been there).

But in my dream I wasn't in Hawaii.
But in my dream I did see the actual Diamond Head, which is funny again because I haven't seen the image of that since I was about seven (but have thought about it again several weeks ago as I was planning a now canceled trip to Hawaii with my mother). Isn't that strange?

Except Diamond Head had morphed with both Tahoe National Forest and Yosemite...so the figure of Diamond Head somehow became El Capitan as well.

It was astonishingly sunny, bright, and beautiful, the whole of my dream, even indoors.

EVERYONE was there. All of my friends. My family. It reminded me of the final episode of Lost; all the important people (as well as unimportant - there were people EVERYWHERE) were there and DRESSED UP.

I don't remember what was said to all of my friends & fam. I just remember walking around the "park" and some large facility that resembled an aging elementary school, that somehow morphed into a fancy train in which everyone was dressed in formal attire.

Out of nowhere, I saw my old roommate sitting on train steps next to a handsome man in a suit (She met him on Match.com LOL). I said hello and we talked some nonsense.

Another friend of mine was standing behind her for some damn reason.

Somewhere in that zone, I woke up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everyone was in my dream except my father.

The whole dream, I had been searching for him, on that damn train. Looking through rooms and corridors and corners and he is nowhere to be found.

In my realest reality, that is OK. But I woke up on this beautiful Friday in the worst mood even though the dream wasn't "bad".

It's OK. I'm pretty sure I'll have a damn good Friday (all the alcoholics in the house, say heyyyy LOL). I'm having a good Friday already. I didn't get the internship I wanted for Arnold Schwarzenegger's newsroom, but they said they may want me for another department, so I'm getting interviewed again next week. And the boss that I am terrified of said good morning to me, and he referred to me by my NAME (I wasn't sure he knew my name lolol). And in an hour I'm getting the stitch in my back out, and hopefully will learn of my biopsy results, and can ask my dermatologist further questions...hmm.

I'll get over my daddy issues soon, in a few years, or decades. Mentally I have told myself to stop searching.

We'll see.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Birds of prey

I have been encouraged to write in this more, so I will try although at times it seems a lost cause.

I'm at work right now and feel as though my computer activity is being watched by hawks... but I have a lot on my mind.

Item One is my recent (as in the past year, that I have begun to address) realization of my mother's loneliness that has been the pit of my weakness and the source of my guilt. I have been her punching bag and she has not unbolted me.

Item Two is that I will unbolt myself. I will let go of all this negative energy. That might be impossible but I can already picture on paper, a dark cloud leaving my body. I will not even blame anyone. I will not even blame myself. I will just trash it.

Just now, just an hour ago, I was walking around outside (on Market St. in the Financial District) minding my own damn business when I locked eyes with a man in business attire. I could not look away due to the strange nature of his walk and the intense expression on his face... As he walked past, he said something completely sick and depraved to me.

The most regular looking man with such a complexly disturbed mental interior... There are vultures out there.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

This is a blog post that serves no real purpose

Man, I love edibles. The consumption of edibles and the subsequent high experience takes place in three stages:

Stage One: Consumption

Stage Two: Waiting

Stage Three: High

And sometimes,

Stage Four: Completely blasted to smithereens

I am not a fan of Stage Two. At times, this works, such as when me and my friends go hot tubbing at the gym. At the locker room, we ingest the edible and chill in the hot tub as the feeling of the high creeps in on us (Sometimes it doesn't creep, sometimes it slams you like a fucking train).

In general, taking edibles with friends is fun because you get to see if it'll hit you at the same time or not.

Tonight, I am not especially fond of the waiting stage. I greatly desire to sleep.

I really enjoy the effect of an edible when I am needing help sleeping. It is a body high that can often be much stronger than normal smoke inhalation. The high can be strong that it reminds me of my "greener" days (lol), when, young in this art that I was, smoking would annihilate my body in the best way possible.

As a more seasoned toker, this effect can be much harder to obtain. Luckily, an appropriate dosage of an edible can get me feeling the same way.

By now, perhaps an hour or more so in after my initial consumption, I am beginning to feel the high. I am hoping it will get stronger as time progresses.

I have been having trouble falling asleep all night and it is annoying me to my wits end. I only got four hours of sleep today, and have been quite tired and sleepy. Just can't fall asleep. I did have coffee today, but that was twelve hours ago.

This is a major and frequent source of annoyance in my life. I hate this feeling. My body is tired but my mind is much too alert. I did not even plan on getting high.

I often smoke just for fun, but in many cases, just to help me fall asleep. I am so thankful for this medicine. It has really helped me the past two school quarters. It helps me relax so much, and get enough sleep so that I can stay sane.

I am much calmer now that I feel this marvelous plant in my body.

Anyway, I have a lot in my mind right now. There is so much to think, do, and write about, but all I could do was write this post about edibles.


I do not look forward to the tired feeling of tomorrow.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Codeine and Vodka

sans vodka.

I'm high off codeine right now. It feels very similar to marijuana, except with codeine you have to deal with the terrible taste and initial nausea. With codeine, there is also more of a physical tingling/throbbing sensation, particularly in the hands.

At least that is how it is for me.

I'm about to seal the deal and smoke some (vape!), but not before entering a few words into this white text box...

Wait a minute -- *takes puff from inhaler after cough attack* Ahhhhhh.

- - - - - - - - -

The reason I am abusing substances right now is because I seem to have bacterial bronchitis at the moment. Well, I suppose this is not abuse since this is all legal. (Feel free to skip the next few paragraphs, it is a bit redundant)

I have been sick for the past three weeks. It started out with an innocent tickle in the throat, just in the morning and at night, for a few days. Slowly the feeling grew stronger, but I, being the dumb retarded ingrate bitch that I am, ignored it, until I felt an increasing sensation of daily fatigue, but all was manageable.

Until that Thursday two weeks ago when I woke up with that horrible swollen swelling brain dizzy feeling. Since I had already been waking up and feeling sick already, I tiredly proceeded to my morning class, only to find that the feeling was ever increasing. I came home desperate for my bed. In it, I collapsed, and the sensation of murkiness subsided as I fell into a deep sleep.

This phase of the sickness continued for a couple days, then transformed into a few days of extreme congestion, then extreme runny nose, and now I seem to be in the final (I hope) phase, Cough Til' Ya Die (nix on the dying). (Fareal though, I was contemplating going to the emergency room on Sunday night when breathing got difficult, this prompted me to finally see a doctor the next day)

Of course, these symptoms love to mix-and-match, but for the most part, I'm just in coughing mode now.

- - - - - - - - -

Was there a point to me stupidly describing my very-bad-cold in detail? Of course not, there is never a point to anything I am saying.

But, probably what I am trying to say is that my body feels like shit, and as seen from my last post, my mind feels like shit. On top of that, a cold sore has developed on my lip, which is not only gross, but also troublesome because I never used to get cold sores, but now I do, due to my body being constantly weakened by physical and psychological stress. AfterawhileallmybitchinggetsreallyredundantandIcangoonandonabouthowunfortunateIam, but perhaps I can reduce my argument more-

The other day, I was watching Addicted (say hello to my inner sadist) about a woman addicted to prescription pills. Boy, was she fucked up. Day in and day out she'd be poppin' those pills, and it's not like she'd go crazy and recklessly run about town with a fucking machete. Rather, she would sit on her couch and eat cereal, and suddenly slump over and fall asleep into her cereal. Then awaken and spend the rest of her day as a drone, entering and leaving reality, quiet with her body tilting at various angles.

There is our world, but she simply wasn't in it.

Okay, it sounds frightening, but in a way, I understood. To not want to deal with all these affairs- family affairs, friend affairs, work/school affairs -the business of life, a never-ending to-do list. You pop em' pills and it's an escape.

Unhealthy, nonsensical? Yes. But do I sympathize? To an extent, a smidgen of an extent, yes. The older and "wiser" and more stressed out I get, the more I sympathize with such behavior. Who wants to deal with the daily bullshit anymore. Who wants to work with the premise that you must earn money, because that is the fundamental tool for success in this society (more or less). Who wants to make relationships with people that ultimately will never understand you.

So that is when you start to become a drone.

There is more to life, I understand that. I am not a cold-hearted bitch, at least not completely, not in essence. But there are times when I'd like to clear my mind, lose all this negativity. So that part of me "understands" drug abuse.

Anywho, thank god fo' weed.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Black Birds On A Scarecrow

As women, we are under constant threat. A thread of hair lies misaligned, our makeup is not perfect. A shoelace is stupidly, untidily untied, but stupider is not wearing heels or "female appropriate" shoes. Our body is misshapen, and our face, asymmetrical.

Our body and our mind, is at times, a disaster, and we spend our whole lives trying to "fix" it, if only it were possible.

Machines and scientists and scalpels to fix your body, but nothing to fix the psychologically oppressed mind of a woman.

Never thin enough, never smart enough, never good enough. Women are constantly teetering with their self-worth, always in a battle, of Am I Good Enough, Was I Ever Good Enough, and Why Can't I Be. They are constantly comparing, denying, and objectifying themselves.

And for what? the prize of the male gaze, intellectual gratification, personal worth, "love"... ...the most ridiculous part being that we're to attract men (speak: MEN!!!), and so it is for this that we've twisted the ideal image of the female again and again- He says that this is what she must look like. He says this is what she must act like. In the meantime, she struggles to become a She.

It is no coincidence that amid thousands of years of human existence, across different cultures and spans of time, the woman has been condemned, always placed at the bottom of the social strata*. And for what? For childbirth? For our weaker bodies? Our soft minds? Our incapacity to learn?

I don't know where I'm going with this. Only that as I gazed at myself in the mirror this evening, I was so unsatisfied with what I saw. It was not just my reflection that disappointed me, but my wavering attitude towards life, my inability to meet my own wild/outrageous expectations -- the failure of passing some retarded test I had given myself.

And for what? What am I trying to prove and who am I proving this to? What is the point of all this?

As a self-conscious preteen I had always imagined not a world of humans, but a world of souls - where there is no physical manifestation of the self, just souls to judge each other by. True character. Doesn't exist, of course. Merely a fantasy.

I'm not having the best night, for sure, but I'm only wondering what day I, and other girls like me, will quit being fascinated by the mirror and what we see (and don't see). The Reflection is an Infection.

I had pondered this as I stared at my dark brown eyes, the dark bags underneath that highlighted my tired skin. Now, my fingers try to form the thoughts I had been thinking at the time -- Believe me, my reasoning sounded far better in my head.

I cannot, do not, speak for every female. I am merely trying to shed light on a short feeling of female insecurity that all women feel at different times in their life, this feeling that Society (patriarchal society, what have you) slapped in our face with His dick.


Anyway, some other time I can develop my thoughts more on this. Knowing myself quite well (and yet so unwell), tomorrow I will probably be posting something on Why Women RULEEE and get all Amazonian and shit. And then Why I Love Men, and there'll be a picture of Zak Bagans in raver pants.

I mean, who cares though. We're all just sum hoes and bitches.

*but still above the Jews.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Make you feel that way

Make you feel that way...

Up and early for the hope of a brand new day
See a homie you ain't seen since back in the day
Fresh haircut fitted wit a fat ass fade
End of work, we chilling on a Saturday
How you felt when you first heard the data came
Rakim KRS hey I had that tape
Cooling out with ol girl on a fat ass date
Find a hundred dollar bill wow man that's great
Get promoted at your job up to management
Plot a long time finally a plan has made it
Time I feel I wanna shout, man its real that way
Wanna think of things that make you feel that way


Christmas day when your mamma got your first bike
Type of feeling when you went and when your first fight
How your team felt winning championship games
Celebrate in a huddle dancing in this rain
Have a thought see a shooting star cross your screen
Put in hard work finally your living your dream

Deaf man get his hearing now in come vibes
Blind man get sight see his first sunrise
Dumb man speaking out, now he's load and clear
Earth through your chout smile so proud ya wear
Going in your third eye for the styles ya hear
Making music that'll bump for a thousand years
Eating right feeling conscience like health is first
Said a prayer that's sincere and you felt it work
Times I feel I wanna shout, man it's real that way
When I'm thinking things that make you feel that way


All up in her vibe something coming over me
Summer days more likely that you notice breezes
Winter days more likely that you notice heat
When I'm warm more likely that you notice me
In the dark it's more likely that you notice light
In the light more likely that you notice night
Hungry more appreciation for that meal
Dead broke more appreciation for that grill
A bad day'll make you really notice ones that's good
And that'll make things a little better understood
Times I feel I wanna shout, man it's real that way
When I think of things that make you feel that way
Make you feel that way...

(Ya know its like ahh like the most greatest feeling you could ever feel
you like just total illation. Sunny day, just that day.
You know its just like you know just the most joyous feeling
you could ever comprehend. You know, chilling with your family.
You know just you know just really really feeling,
feeling the moment, with the folks. Ya know really really really just chilling.
It's love. It's love. It's love)
Song makes me happy. Lyrics are a go.

I had a bad day. I was exhausted. I still have a bad cold and have been coughing till my eyes tear up. From dawn till dusk I'd been working on school related things: waking up at 6 am, driving to Davis, realizing I never did my homework due at 10, stressing, giving up, bullshitting, realizing I would be busy all afternoon and night, and on top of that, had a group meeting at 9 p.m. of all hours, and still more to do after that.

All because I didn't do shit over the weekend except play.

At the same time I thought of how wonderful the weekend was, how much fun I had with my friends, laughing and joking and fucking the weekday, because fuck the weekday.

And I was thinking this morning as I was driving in the Monday Bay Area fog gloom, falling in and out of traffic, how much I hated the start of Monday; that's when the flood of thoughts come in and all the things to do and how much I suck and how much school sucks - back on the Monday grind when I fucking hate the Monday grind.

Fuck the grind, fuck Mondays, fuck routine. So sick of the same shit day in and day out. So fucking pointless.

Such are the relentless negative Monday morning thoughts of May Yang. Not like this every Monday, but on particular Mondays of stuffy nosedness, headachiness, cloudy, rainy, stress-provoking, almost Finals, Monday, Monday, Monday. Didn't U2 mean to write "Monday, Bloody Monday" instead of whatever crap they wrote? Sundays still have promise. Monday is only good because it leads to Friday.

All in all, I felt like this all day:
Cloudy headed, disconnected, & fucked-up looking.

It wasn't until the end of the night did I remind myself of the Universal Rule of Chill. Just gotta chill sometimes.

I'll be cool man. Just gotta take it slow, breathe a little, laugh a lot, smoke up when I need to. I got all the right tools - friends, family, etc. - just gotta u-til-lize my resources, yanno? & shit.

Pop dat Dayquil/Nyquil, (didn't know combining Sudafed and Dayquil could potentially cause death), drink cough syrup like you're Lil' Wayne, smoke a blunt, whatever.

Coo'. Chill.

Everything's coo'.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

A trip down memory lane

Some of my best memories have been made while high.

I could have pages and pages full of fun/funny/questionable high memories, had I made the effort to write these things down.

Sudden flashback(s) of before I "came out" with my pot smoking:
The ritual of going to a certain friend's house late at night. Sitting on her bed, waiting for her to pack that bowl in her hardy ass bubbler. Sneaking out quietly and hiding in the shadows outside. Inhale. Hold it in. Let it out. Oh shit. Cough. Giggle. Oh shit car's coming. Oh shit was that your dad. Again and again.

Going back inside her room and chillin'. A lot of times we would whisper for no fucking reason. Then we'd be like, aye! why da fuck we whisperin?! Watching television. Sitting in silence for long periods of time. "Dude we've been sitting here for like 20 minutes not sayin' anything!!" "Nah dude, you trippin, it's only been 2 minutes." "WHAT THE FUCK1". Explosion of laughter. "See, now we're not whisperin'." "Yeah, why the fuck were we whispering." I swear this conversation seemed to happen every night.

Deep thoughts thinking. A floating body. Being in another wooooooorld.
Well. That was a whole 'nother stage of my personal "high evolution". Highvolution. That was when I first started getting high on the regular, but not on the daily. Just weekends and breaks from school. My tolerance was much lower and each experience was very special.

It all seemed so damn special to me.

Like, oooh, it's late. Everyone's going home. Time to smoke. That special time to tune out.

No complaints. Not sayin' my high experiences aren't awesome or meaningful now. They totes are. Not sayin' I don't get high to tune out from the big bad world anymore. But the aforesaid story is a very special part of my High Life. The whole ritual. Of getting high with your good friend before all your good friends were toking (well, to be fair, they ALL were already, just not as much as now).

Also the secrecy...
made it fun.

The exclusiveness.

Don't get me wrong though. I still got mad passion for pot. That was just another chapter of mah life.

I be movin' on now and shit. I speak different too! Motherfucker!

note: Contrary to what you may think, I am not high right now. I am merely contemplative.

Monday, May 3, 2010

It's 3 am and I'm ruminating over the shet-load of things I must do this week. They include:
  • A midterm
  • A "midterm interview" - basically an oral midterm for Chinese class
  • Advising appointment
  • A quiz on Freud's "The Uncanny"
  • 2 quizzes for Chinese class
  • A Shakespeare essay (4-5 pages)
  • Schedule my first interview for my editorial internship (gulp)
I'm up right now after spending the latter part of the night studying for the midterm - still a long way to go, but have to stop and continue after my Chinese class tomorrow. Am now trying to finish my Chinese homework that is due in the morning. And thinking on what day shall I start x in order to turn in x on such and such day? (Example: Must read Shakespeare on Tuesday and have outline done by Wednesday? Read "The Uncanny" on Tuesday before class, but then when do I finish the chapter on Psychoanalysis? Etc, etc.)

I'm stressed out - need to time-manage more efficiently.

My memory is becoming more and more impaired. I forgot where I read - a Yahoo article I think - that the type of person who, on the daily, is forgetting where he/she is putting his/her keys a minute after putting them down...is not just a "forgetful" type, but simply overscheduled. Biologically (neurologically?) inept to handle this much.

A brain can only handle so much. A no-brainer, really.

Also doesn't help that my body serves as a chimney for all that pot smoking. Knowing that I would be regretfully busy this week, I left my newly purchased quad (of C-4, a potent hybrid) at home. Less smoking this week, lady. (I do have an edible on me -- it's waiting.)

If you'd like to take a peek at my smoking habits the past month, please check out my daytum account. These statistics are from a lot of guessing. I think it's fun!

I'm clearly a stoner. I don't know why I'm sober right now. Oh right, that homework...back to that.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Let's get some shoez.

I'm at Starbucks with an iced skinny vanilla latte (delicious, overpriced, and with a stupid name), studying... and dreaming of shoes.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Nikon D3000

Late in posting as usual. I should start out by saying that my 21st birthday was fabulous. Honestly it would be too much of a daunting task to say everything that happened - maybe some other time. Let us just remember that it was fabulous, ethereal, divine...

I also tried salvia this past weekend. This too is a daunting task to explain. I do not think such an experience is possible to express in words - so I won't, for now. Later.

I'm most likely heading back to the motherland (China) this September, and I aim to capture my journey with a new DSLR camera. I swear that is my main purpose of purchasing something so expensive. I'm not trying to be a hipster...

Have been doing extensive (not really) research on entry-level DSLR cameras, and am probably settling on the Nikon D3000, which will cost around $450-500. I think this is a great price for what I am going to get, but will not be purchasing it until I feel a bit more financially secure. So this summer, maybe, and I will get a chance to ask my camera savvy friends what they think. I would love to take a photography class also, if I can squeeze it in. :)

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Play something for me, Alicia

I've been haplessly busting my ass off as usual. Once again, I've been needlessly scheduling myself in ways that divert from common sense. Not sure why I thought I would be able to drive to and from Oakland, making it back to Millbrae past midnight, then drive back to Davis during witching hours, sleep for 2 hours, and wake up to volunteer for the UCD Triathlon. As you can understand by now, this didn't happen. While I can't say I'm happy with myself, I must say the weekend was well worth it anyway...

Well, why was I in Oakland? For the Alicia Keys Freedom Tour! It was absolutely incredible. She is quite the artist, quite the woman. We didn't really get to see Melanie Fiona, but hey, that was fine, as long as we got to see the very sexy Robin Thicke! Wow, what a powerful guy. He had a whole arena of women swooning! When the backdrop was revealed and it said Robin Thicke - Sex Therapy in sexy black and red, the ladies were sold! Oracle Arena instantly turned into a giant coliseum of rabid, lusty women, hands grabbing and arms stretched out, reaching for the sexy flesh that is Robin Thicke, so ready were they to tear the-- oh shit that was just me. Rambling.

Well, Mr. Robin Thicke was a great warm-up for my impaired lungs. Yes, I put her through a lot - hard hours at the gym had got them panting, and she gasped for air after each cigarette and harsh bong rip. But at this concert, my lungs had to deal with all the hyperventilating and adolescent schoolgirl screaming that was provoked by Robin Thicke's rotating hips, gyrating and thrusting and-- oh shit- ... Rambling again.

Basically my throat hurt from all the excitement (although my friend Rachael still beat me in that department). Of course you have to scream at each song change, and each time the artist speaks. Every word. Yes. Scream.

She sang all of her hit songs spanning her four (amazing) albums, plus some lesser knowns, like "Superwoman". Trust, you think her song sounds good on CD and with yo good speakers and shit, but you ain't HEARD her sing live! Girl can sing like no other! One of my faves from the concert was a lively upbeat version of "No One" and a godly "Wait till U See My Smile".

Somewhere along the line some scrappy bitches in the back were clawing at each other and fighting and shit. Not cool, girl!

I was totally jealous of all her outfits, nothing flashy, no costumes, but pure sophisticated Alicia: black blazers, leather leggings, a white dress made for a goddess. Ugh. So jealous.

She finished off with "Empire State of Mind", where she had to replace the "New Yorrkkkkk" with 'Oakland' a couple times.

Great concert. Great everything: great backup singers, background dancers, audio/visuals. I must say I was quite annoyed with the narrowness of the seats, but all was made up for with the amazing acoustics of the arena, and hearing Alicia's celestial voice...and Robin... oh shit!

I should say, though, that I have absolutely no clue as to how we ladies arrived at the concert. It is a fact that I drove, but it shan't have been my car - of all things - that I drove. No, no, it can't have been! It was a space shuttle that I drove, yes. I think I was supposed to have driven my white Toyota Prius there, but after that ridiculously fat joint that a certain friend of mine constructed was smoked between us, my car turned into a spaceship! That is the only explanation possible.

Yes, I was impossibly blazed a good portion of the concert.

[in soft voice]And the space shuttle...took off...

Oh boy, am I high right now. I see that shuttle now, flying off into the universe.

See ya later, Buzz.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

April showers bring May flowers

It's April!

Sure, I am seven days late but I am always late.

April brings a lot of new and exciting things for me (Move aside, Easter, Jesus Christ, and zealous Christians).

For example, there is UC Davis Picnic Day (big drunkfest), 420, my 21st birthday (get ready, son!), and a series of smaller events, such as the UCD Triathlon (sadly, I am not participating as I had hoped - but I am volunteering!). I am also going to two shows this month: Passion Pit on campus (on my birthday!), and Alicia Keys in Oakland.

But as usual, backwards minded racist conservative hicks be tryna ruin this month fo' me -- what the fuck, yo!

National dickface Bob McDonnell, governor of Virginia (what's the weed like in Virginia?), has declared April to be Confederate History Month. Once again I am humbly reminded of how lucky I am to be from the WEST COAST, the BAY AREA at that, raised with CULTURE and an open mind. No sir, I do not consider your redneck-and-proud lifestyle to be anything remotely related to culture (certainly not "high culture", I should say). Nor do I find any sense in promoting the INHERENT RACISM that is associated with the Confederacy. Slavery, hello?...SMH at Southerners--

Click the image for some innocent lols.

And the worst part is knowing that there's a whole clusterfuck of ding-dongs that are throwing their cowboy hats in the air and drinking in celebration, "Hey, y'all! Let's organize our next boot party, y'all! In the name of God, y'all!"

Are you there, God? It's me, May. Smite these mothafucka's to hell!

And here I am researching and reading reviews of good cheap wines that I can buy when I turn 21.

*Sigh* Always gotta kill my good time.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Greetings! It's been far too long. March is nearly over and I find myself at just my second post this month. Hm. I was hoping to at least post 4x a month. Perhaps I will force myself to write everyday for the remainder of March? What do you think?

I'm sitting on my backyard deck chair outside. I'm sipping an iced coffee. The sun is embracing me. I've spent the day hungover and lazy, downloading music, reading blogs and such. It is satisfying. My dog lies lazily next to me.

Sadly, today is my last day of Spring Break. I am thinking it would be a good idea to summarize Winter Quarter, this wonderful Spring Break, and my upcoming Spring Quarter...via bullet-point, of course.

winter quarter
  • 17 units: 2 Chinese classes, 2 Comparative Literature classes
  • Which lead to an insane amount of all-nighters
  • Hundreds of pages read
  • And about 40 pages worth of essays were written
  • But in the end I made it out with 2 A's, a B, and I'm still waiting for another grade to be released (I'm a bit worried as to why I haven't received my grade yet)
  • And I was high almost every night
spring break
  • A good balance of work, productivity, and partying
  • Bowls, bongs, blunts...joints, pipe, glass
  • OG Kush, Jackpot, Shiva Skunk, GDP...
  • Grey Goose, Stoli...
  • Cigarettes, general sin, I'm-twenty-and-don't-care
  • Really, just getting uber fucked up
  • ~45 hours of work, San Francisco, love
  • Smoking a Nat Sherman in a hidden corner behind the Ferry Building by myself, overlooking the ocean, the Bay Bridge, sun, solace, peace pax pace...
  • Summer internship searching
  • Deadmau5, Kaskade, Matt Alber, Gabriel & Dresden, etc.
  • B.o.B. ft. Bruno Mars - Nothin' On You
  • Ghetto Superstar <3
  • I love my friends. I repeat- I love my friends.
spring quarter
  • Again, 2 Chinese classes, 2 Comparative Literature classes
  • One of which is a class on Shakespeare. This makes me want to spray my pants.
  • This quarter, I will figure out what I will be doing this summer. Whether that means summer school or interning/working in SF or going to China...I have no clue.
  • All I know is that I'm turning 21 in a little over two weeks. You know it's going to be insane.
  • A visit to an undergraduate advisor is very necessary.
  • As is a visit to my Comp. Lit. advisor -- I plan on writing a sick senior thesis, but this may require negotiating.
I was uber fucked up last night. Like so fucked up...high to cross-faded to drunk. That was such a fucked up night. I actually yacked and that happens infrequently with me. So you know I was straight fucked up. Let me reiterate once again- I WAS FUCKED UP. Thanks for that, friends. Happy birthday Chris Lau.

The Electronic Music Festival in Miami. It sounds incredible. I would love to go this. Miami is where it's at.

Another random note: I was telling a friend the other day how one of my life goals is to attend a rave outside of America. What comes to mind is Europe of course. They have always known what is up in the house/electronic/techno/trance scene. Those crazy Europeans. I also have this image in my mind of attending a rave in the Netherlands, or Norway. I just feel like it'd be crazy.

But most of all, I would love to go to one in Brazil. The idea is incredible. This music video consistently blows my mind.

Everyone and their moms in the UC system is studying abroad, I swear. Perhaps I will too. Unquestionably, I choose Latin America as my destination - Brazil in particular. UC Davis doesn't have a wide selection of Latin America study abroad options, unfortunately. Although they do have a Cuba program, which is amazing. Other than that, there is also Argentina and Chile, both of which are appealing as well.

Well, this post just turned into a clusterfuck of things that have been on my mind lately. You bitch, May!
It's 4:20 pm.

I'm impossibly lazy today. It is Sunday, after all. The thought of returning to school tomorrow and returning to Davis tonight kills. Luckily I love Spring Quarter.

My brain isn't ready to shut down quite yet but I need to go to Costco to buy cat food. Cat owners constantly have to buy cat food. Cats love cat food, and I love cats. So....

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

LOL u guyz.

You guys.

You guys!

You guys!

(my feminist of a professor would retort that saying, that saying of "you guys" 'cause we shouldn't say guys...y'all!)


(the sound of empty crickets)

(because no one reads my blog)

(& because I never promote it)

(and it stands in a dusty corner on the interwebz)

Well, you guys. I was loitering in my room just now - still am - and I had a flashforward. not to be confused with a flashback.

Anyway, I wasn't deeply thinking of this; I just got the image, the phrase. Often times in my linear, transliteral, and crazy way of thinking, words, phrases, sentences POP UP in my head. Today it said:

I'm a graduate student studying literaure; I like cats and hot tea, hehehe!

[insert a cute but "safe" picture that makes me seem reserved but adventurous, grounded and worldly, but at the end of the day, quite plain, like this --]

"This is me in the Hondouras!!!!! I travel I'mso fucking interesting I let a PARROT for god's sake a PARRROT put it's damn devil claws on my WHITE AMERICAN APPAREL TEE ahahahahaa man I'm sophisticated What's your income looking like?"
Crap. That's gonna be my ONLINE DATING profile in about...3 or 4 years. Isn't it sad? The image of this profile was conjured up in my mind subconsciously.

I weep. It's sad.

Then there's going to be a quote from my favorite author, probably someone that I am not familiar with now because in a few more years I'll just be sooooo goddamn intellectual, right?

I'm lonely.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

One should never take oneself too seriously. :D

By the way, I'm not high right now. Just crazy, sleep deprived, and energetic from a workout.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

My fabulous weekend

"I'll just light a bowl, some incense, watch the Olympic clips I've missed today, and call it a night," I thought to myself as a lit my incense, and then I burned my fucking finger because I was that fucking high.

I'm staring at this embarrassing piece of skin right now. It's not terrible. It even has a metallic shine to it - looks grey. It didn't even hurt all that much, on account of me being so high. Although I must say, once I was being burned, the pain increased dramatically.

I had a wonderful weekend. Who can really remember what happens these days, though? I for sure can't. There were three nights of good food*, lots of laughs and girl time on Valentine's Day...all in a haze. Chinese New Year and Chinese New Year were quite enjoyable.

Hm, I really need to clean you.

Poor image quality**, but that's my fixed bong. Yup, fixed. It may or may not be true that it's a bit harder to keep the weed lit, but it works. Super glue is freaking amazing, like seriously, I'm going to have so much fun with it in the future.

The shards of glassed fit back on quite well. Unfortunately there was a third piece of glass missing that will be impossible to find. I double secured-it by wrapping it with duct tape (and then again with a Hello Kitty band-aid just for the cuteness factor -- Hello Kitty and duct tape, you can't go wrong).

Now that I think about it, why didn't I just fill the missing piece of glass with super glue? Oh, the things you suddenly think of when you're high. Fuck.


- the first image is from an interesting photo blog called photobytone.com.

- my blog needs some more variety so i hope you've appreciated a slightly different format for this post.

- in regards to my last post, i sound whiny and annoying. i get over things quite quickly, so i'm back to my old self at the moment. i would delete parts of it, but i'd like to think that my own blog allows for some freedom regarding my pickiness.

* * *

* homemade Chinese food deux fois, korean barbecue, and mongolian hot pot. trader joe's dark chocolate also gets an honorable mention from me :) paired with wine?? amazeballs!

** if i end up going to china this summer, i will for sure invest in a nice DSLR camera beforehand.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

My bong has been castrated.

It happened shortly after I published my last post. I was successfully doing homework (I was very productive that night) and had to print something. Unfortunately, my attempts at plugging in my printer resulted in me knocking over my bong, which was on the floor, on carpet.

After knocking it over, I let out a short gasp, then felt relieved when I only saw some water and glass on the floor.

It was then that I saw a shard or two of glass.

The gasp that came out of my mouth was quite ghastly and surprised and strained.

I felt miserable. The part that broke is the part that holds the stem up. Fortunately my bong is very usable still, even if I hadn't used a bandaid to fix it. I will buy super glue and attempt to piece this little gem back together.

It will be okay, it will be okay, I want to tell myself, as I rock my body back and forth and rub my hands together like someone coming off a coke binge (not that I would know what that feels like).


Anyway, I'm on an incredible sleep deficit right now. It happens every week. The past thirty days I have pulled at least 4-5 all nighters, if not more. If I am lucky, I can get more than 4 or 5 hours of sleep a night. No naps, either. It is completely miserable.

Typically I get one day a week of sleeping in, which is Saturday night to Sunday afternoon. I had a huge essay due today, so I straight read my books from 3 pm-2 am Monday night. Which is the night that I broke my sexy bong.

On Tuesday I woke up at 6 am after a four hour slumber because I had a hefty amount of Chinese homework due at 10. I did something pretentious and rather sophisticated, which was go to Peet's in the early AM. It was nice to be the youngest person there and feel comfortably invisible. All around me were older people having sophisticated talk. Three men nearby talked about the girlfriends of their younger lives. They were not vulgar at all. One man talked about how, no matter how fun a crazy, adventurous chick is, she will bore you after a few short years -- it is best to settle down with a nice girl. How nice! (I went to Starbucks today, by the way. Why is it that younger people hang out at Starbucks and older people hang out at Peet's?)

I had lunch with Felicia and went grocery shopping with her. Then we went to the library for god knows how long. I managed to finish both of my books and write an outline of my essay. I was so tired. My face felt like it was falling off and it was a real labor just to understand simple things. I was in bed by 12:30 am and felt as though I were about to have a psychological breakdown. My body hated me, but my mind was racing. It was the stress. I felt like screaming.

Fortunately I fell asleep, and my alarm woke me up at 4 am this morning. Writing my essay was painful, and I am disappointed in my quality of work because I know I could have done much better, and was forced to leave out much of what I had planned in my outline due to time constraints. So my essay probably seems messy, unfinished, and careless. But I turned it in.

I went to the bookstore to study (more like, I lost one of my books that I had bought for CHN 106, so I go to the bookstore and illegally study there by using their books). As I was walking among the shelves I felt incredibly sick. I felt lost in a white haze and felt my body starting to sway. Was I going to faint? I grabbed hold of one of the shelves and stood there for a good thirty seconds, allowing my body to come to. Then came incredible nausea. My head was pounding and had the strangest sensation. I don't really know how to describe it, except it felt like there was straight murk in my brain, swirling around in madness. I could almost hear it, it seemed.

I paid careful attention not to vomit on the girl in front of me, because I literally thought I was going to. I also felt utterly confused; I didn't know where to find my book. Skipping class was not an option as I had a mandatory quiz to take (quizzes sum up 50% of my class grade, and I am doing poorly in this class). Well, no, I'm not crazy. I realize that this dramatic effect on my health is enough reason not to go to class, quiz or no quiz. But I sat down after finding my book and started feeling much better and more normal. I ended up going to class and it wasn't horrible. I don't regret going.

I went home and slept, not setting an alarm, but woke up at 7, rather disappointed as I had only been asleep for 4 hours, and couldn't fall back asleep. That was fine though, as I am now awake since then and have plenty of schoolwork to do by tomorrow. I feel good, despite a pounding headache. I will try to get more sleep tonight.

I realize that this post was quite boring and rather pointless. However, I suppose I'm trying to cognitively tell myself I need to plan things better. I could benefit from utilizing my weekends better. At the same time, I feel I deserve to have some fun on the weekend. I could also work less, but I really don't work that much anyway, and I really need the $$$.

I've already decided not to do my internship this quarter. I can hardly fit it into my schedule anyway, so that makes sense. It also seems as though I won't be able to do my triathlon in April. At first, this idea killed me, but after the past few insufferable weeks, I think this is only fair to my body and mind. I can't afford to train right now, although I will try to hit the gym when I can still, or else I will go BONKERS.

I'd like to think my body and mind can endure anything, but in truth I'm only human and need to take myself less seriously!! Really, though, I looked utterly horrible today. I looked like Satan. I have never seen myself look so ugly. My skin was fucked up, blotchy, and dehydrated looking and my eyes were red. My hair looked drab. My mind, in a haze.

We are mid-quarter already, and the quarter is only going to get more lethal. I have finals in a month. That idea is crazy to me. I only have one more year of college left, but it seems I still haven't adjust to the insane quarter system.

I was so psyched to take humanities only courses this quarter, but I find that these classes are keeping me even more busy than the math/science classes I used to take. (This makes sense due to the insane amount of reading and writing I have to do for COM 135, but also because I care so much more this quarter about my grades and my major than I ever did about science and math.)

So I am tired and undernourished, sleeping in 2 to 4 hour cycles, and as a result, unhappy and agitated. Still confused about my future, still a pothead. Whatever, I will get over it. Resilience is key, bouncing back and proving yourself wrong is crucial. (Do you sense a contradiction here? I do.)

I am choosing my classes for next quarter tomorrow, and will be more careful in my planning.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Before even smoking out of my bong, I placed it on my lamp/table thing, next to my coffee cup. Such curiously looking things the two were. I admired them both.

"Good bong. Pretty bong." I said it with such sincerity and with a voice of the sentimental. Like someone talking to their pet cat. It was then that I noticed that my coffee cup had on it the decoration of two cats sitting on a bench, holding a batch of flowers. Cats! I was amused, I was sold.

Onto the smoking part.

Grape God was my sticky icky of choice. (Hoping it will give me some homeworking-doing power, still hoping) A pretty gnarly hybrid strain.

For whatever reason, a voice kept whimpering in the back of me head. Or should I say, "A little birdy told me..."? Well, a little birdy told me, Don't take a lot of hits. You don't really need it. Just take 2-3 and take more later.

Wasn't it just yesterday after the Super Bowl (and we were superbowling, best believe) that I had said that I always telling myself same thing, and how I fail at listening to myself?

And so it was, I took hella more hits than I had planned to. After each hit, I asked myself, do you really need to smoke more? Like, really? Yeah, I do need to smoke more, May, ya whore. (I smoke more.) Oh my god! How many hits was that already? You're already super high! How can you doubt your highness? There is no need to smoke any more cause you're already high!

Rational, annoying, plain jane May was like trippin' out!!!! So I said to her out loud, "Dude...you are TRIIIIIPPPIN!" And then, "Oh my god, I am trippin'," on accordance of me talking out loud to myself as if there was another 'myself' here.

I put my bong down, giggling in my mind.

Wait! Was I really giggling in my mind? Or was that real laughter? I focused in on my surroundings and heard a woman's laugh. Unmistakable female laughter, and not from me. My eyes widening, I heard another woman laughing as well.

"What the fuck," I said out loud. Immediately I remembered discussing hallucinations with a friend the other night.

But no. This was real laughter. I was enthralled and shocked at the idea of coincidence, that it was almost as if they could read my mind and start laughing at my thoughts.

But then I was like, NAH dude, it's just da fucking neighbors and they're in their backyards laughing at something. Big fucking deal.

And so it was, just the fucking neighbors.
If that's not a good indicator of how high I am right now, then I don't know what is.

...I am high off my flippin' mind.

Friday, February 5, 2010

A wink, a smile, some comforting words


This is an extraordinary essay, beautifully written, powerfully argued, at once lucid, nuanced and passionate. You have beautifully used Schweithart's essay to open up both Pizan's and Sand's texts and have exceeded my expectations. Congratulations - what a powerful writer - what an amazing reader of texts you are. It was such a pleasure to read this paper.

Let me amuse myself and pretend that there is a God. For fifteen minutes, my heart had floated. It was if He had known (I struggle not to put He in quotations) of my flailing confidence, in myself, in my future. All my doubts as a "writer", a literature student. And to then be affirmed by an established intellectual. To be proud. To keep dreaming.

In my last post, I had mentioned that I had written something depressing. It was precisely this subject matter that I had written on; the thoughts ravaging my mind, all my capabilities, but more so, my incapabilities. A future of grey skies and routine. (The lyrics to Fitter, Happier sum it up quite well, as does another poem that is off the tip of my tongue, but I can't seem to remember the author or title, and it is driving me a bit bonkers.)

A confidence boost, indeed.

I spent the rest of the evening watching Animal Planet, reading, and taking breaks to discuss my cats. Typical me. A telephone conversation with Rachael (Hello). And now, bed.

There are good days,
There are bad days.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

To come anew and chronicle my day

Goal: to write about something else other than weed...

I woke up much more tired than usual. While I regularly put my body through sleep-deprivation hell, the previous night of sleeping at 4 am and waking repeatedly throughout the night till 8 am really got to me. My lovely cats, hard to be angry at them for being the naturally boisterous and loud creatures that they are. It has become apparent the past few weeks that if I am to smoke to sleep, I do need to go for more sleep-friendly strains...

Who can recant a day's memories and make them seem interesting, beautiful even? Not me, for another day is just another day of boredom. A dull day.

Between class, I worked on an essay (yawn). My creative juices began to flow (this tends to happen when I'm tired) and I ended up writing a somewhat depressing piece, which I'll post some other time. It could be a little better, not that I'm willing to spend a lot more time on it. The utter pointlessness. Then more class. Then another. Yawn. My mother calls me to yell at me, and I feel terrible. But, yawn. I study at the bookstore and let my eyes travel upon new titles. I touch them, beautiful, lovely books.

But I am tired, you bore me.

Then darkness settled in. Darkness like curtains being drawn on a sunny day, and all you'd like to do is go out and play. But no. A refusal from some outside force, it might seem, or perhaps it is my natural inclination for this darkness. All at once, I felt -- alone, stupid, small, insignificant, crazy. Darkness, in the sheer darkness of past sunset, in Davis, CA, I felt I blended in with the shadows better than the color black. The chill in my bones. Ash and soot. In the worst mood possible. A leave-me-alone mood.

And I walked home and I tried to let it past. Thought of remedies and things that would make me feel better without lashing out on others. But it would not past, not for a while. I had some food and felt better, then smoked, and felt a whole lot better. Six hours and two bowls later, yeah, I feel a whole lot better.

I'm confused...confused as to why I feel this way, so frequently that it's almost every day. It often comes in moments, can last hours, can drag on through the whole day, draining my energy, my totality and vigor for life. I've been trying to be more forgiving to myself, but with some hard thought, I don't think it's normal to be as emotionally unstable as I have been feeling lately. Very fragile. It comes and goes. I'm functional. But 'depression' should not be a function of myself.

There is more I could say, but my brain aches and 3am has found its way to me. Incense lit, and cocooned till tomorrow. Another day to be tired. I hope for the best, tired person.

Monday, February 1, 2010

To Cesar (embellishing on my imagination, but I swear I'm sane)

Dear Cesar,

I have a fatty crush on you.

I was hoping you would be my budtender today, but you were doing the doorman thing. Darn.

The crazy black men loitered outside the club's doors that you were guarding. They said I was "hella cute" - but do you find me cute?

I was hoping so, as you were so nice to me last time. Do you remember me? Maybe not.

At first I found you only slightly attractive, but your friendly demeanor and open attitude to guiding my legal pot buying virginity won me over. I like everything about you - your affinity for hats, your inebriated expression (are you high when you work?), your tattooed wrists (how far do they go up?)...Your nice stare. How you called me "sweetie" and "sweetheart".

You're a very nice man, and you sell me drugs, and I like that, too.


A Lonely Girl Looking For That Perfect Man To Smoke Me Out
(Stop Thinking I'm Pathetic)

I keep trying to categorize the variety of people that I see on my pot escapades (at first I typed poet escapades by mistake - how lovely).

At the evaluation clinic, they were various. There were the fragile 18-year olds in skater uniform. I can imagine them, stoned off their asses in front of their Call of Duty: Modern Warfare game, "Dude, you're eighteen now, you should get a pot card!" And in response, "Yeah bro, that's a great idea!"

There was the cholo/chola complex. The Haggard Old Man. The annoying hippie ("Yeah, man, pot's my right...and shit."). The Black Man Up To No Good.

The nervous young professional who looks like a graduate student studying philosophy or literature ("Oh shit, what am I doing here? Oh shit, I don't belong here"). He rubs his hands together, paces nervously.

And then there was me. Silent, awkward, potentially normal looking, me. I often feel quite strange in the position I've put myself in. Pot smoker, underachiever - There are certain labels you can attach.

My habit is to label things, to categorize, I suppose. In a class I have taken recently, we often discussed the American need to categorize: ethnicities, stereotypes, everything.

At the clinic today, I took advantage of my downtime as I waited in "line" (another thing I learned about this place: there isn't really a line), playing the part of the observer, the usual, inserting labels on those that I saw. Today, a mixture of grungy young white men, one black thug, some older men, and a person that was either a chick or a dude - I think, a tranny - that couldn't stop staring at him/herself on the mirrors that surround the clinic, a huge smile on his/her makeup-cladden face.

Cesar looks so cute today. A hat, dark urban style clothing, rolled up jeans over chucks. You're so cute.

My pheromones like weird, older men, I think.*

I'm a fucking creep, basically.

*For the record, he is most likely in his late twenties. And you know for me, any age is fair game!

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

A dialogue with cats

There I was again, smoking out of my bong, blowing the smoke towards the rain that pounded hard on the window with the wind's menacing hand. Alone, but in the company of three cats, all staring at me, six little eyes, round and round (and round).

What, kitties, gonna call the police?

I looked at Juno, her green eyes twinkling and with that unimpressed face. She was taunting me.

"Juno, I'm pretty sure I'm done but I'm not gonna put my bong away just yet because what if I want more later?"

She says nothing.

"I'm just talking to you guys...like a crazy person...because I'm really high." I stare at them, mouth half open. They stare back. I stare at them for some time.

"Yeah...I am doneeee. But it just doesn't feel right to put it away yet. What if I'm not done...like later?" I ask Juno.

She stares at me blankly.

"Cause it's like...the ritual isn't done yet, you know? It feels to early to finish. Anyway, I'm just gonna put it down like this." I put the bong down on the table. Pretty bong. Good bong.

Yup, three cats over here. I must say it's been fabulous. Fabulous! I do love my munchkins. The actual Oliver and Tigerlily are here, original inspiration for my blog title! :-)

Speaking of this blog, it's quite pathetic that January is almost over and I only have three posts here. I was actually talking to some random dude at the gym today who saw that I was reading Valvedre by George Sands and he started asking me if I was a writer, and what I write, and I told him that I have a stupid blog to practice writing more as a New Year's resolution. I didn't actually say it was stupid.

That prompted me to update this.

Monday, January 11, 2010


Have you ever read Notes from the Underground? It's a mix between American Psycho and Kakfa-esque works (aren't I a horrible, terrible person for just listing that? such a nerd. I deserve to be duct-taped and stuffed in a locker [please don't do that to me]) -- an isolated character leaning towards insanity lashes out at and suffers from cold, cruel society. It's an existential work. And in it contains plenty of loner-status self-reflection and ramblings about the character's day-to-day self affairs.

My friends know how annoying I am when I keep goin' and goin' about existential bullshit...God I am such the goth chick at a high school dance, whatever the fuck that means.* So the fragile, emo, literary major nerd inside of me (who wears an eyeshadow called "PURGATORY") really likes this story.

And so I present to you: Notes from a Higher Ground :-)

It'll be fun!

At first, I had planned on extensively writing on the subject of marijuana in my life the past week, but that itself is rather extensive (although still entertaining, nonetheless). So instead I will just explain with what happened today:

I woke up after a smoking the night before. It was late, 1:30 pm. I still felt exhausted, even after getting all that sleep so I thought, maybe I'll just sleep a little longer.

I wake up and it's 4:40 pm, and I'm like fuck my life. I get up and mill around the house quietly and soul-lessly (I was a fucking zombie). I am definitely high hungover. My mother says to me sarcastically, "You're up so early! It's only 5 pm!" in Chinese. Very funny, Mom. I go to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror for god knows how long, maybe centuries.

I notice that the house is quiet.

I notice that my mother and brother are downstairs. I don't think that's a good thing. I can only think of my bong and all my weed stashed together in the downstairs closet in the laundry room. I proceed downstairs, and in shock, discover my mother and brother in front of the open closet door, staring at MY BONG and MY WEED.

... Just what do you do in that situation? Give as much bullshit as you can give, I guess, "Oops that's mine! I mean it's not mine...I mean someone left it here by accent...They...forgot it."

My brother opens the ziplock bag with my weed it, and smells it. He gingerly closes the bag and hurries away (that was a big wtf).

My mother demands to know what it is, and why the house smelled like that (FYI the house smelled like Pacific Breeze mango coconut incense, not weed).

"[in Chinese] What's that?" She points to the bag of weed.

"It's...it's like incense. It smells good. That's why it smells so good in here," I stay stupidly.


"No...it's just like incense! That's why it smells so nice and fruity in here. Doesn't it smell good??"



"No, you just light it-"

"WHAT'S THAT?" She points to my beautiful bong.

"It's for lighting it! It's for what you light it on, like incense."


"Yeah, yeah! It's like hookah!"

"I thought I told you there's no hookah in this house! No smoking in this house! Don't ever do it again!"

"Oh okay, I won't do it again."

"No hookah!!"

"Oh okay, but doesn't it smell good??"

She walks away and I stood there, shaking my head in shame and half-laughing. Look what I have become with drugs, I thought, and laughed at my own joke.

Man, that experience sucked. I definitely need to be more careful in the future.

Till next time! :-D

*I want to apologize for the general senselessness of this post. Truth is, I am currently high off my mind.

Monday, January 4, 2010

"Once a runner, you can rescue animals, do advanced math, maybe even live forever"

" My favorite incarnation of runner is the one I discovered first. This is the runner I foster at every opportunity. I'm a mathematician, engineer, snob, bad poet, bad comedian, and romantic - also an athlete, fashionista, pessimist, optimist, nutritionist, physiologist, and homeopath. But when I run, I am mostly a dreamer. When you sleep, you snore. When you run, you dream. The dreams float lightly through the first mile but by the last kick, they flash with every step. If I keep this up, I'll never grow old! I'd do a marathon by spring! I'll never get sick! If I keep going, I'll flush my toxins and my sloth and my temptations and my bad habits! Terrible things will never happen to me! If they do, I'll have the stamina to crush them. If I keep this up, I'll grow better looking with age! I'll be the smartest person in the room! I'll be admired and never envied, respected and never feared, loved and never pitied. If I keep this up I can have hamburgers! Hamburgers!! I can eat chicken with the skin on and fried bread with powdered sugar and sprinkles and extra nuts and chocolate sauce! If I keep this up I'll never need glasses or crowns or joint replacements. I won't need surgery of any kind - I'll rewire my DNA and nullify every genetic deficiency! If I keep it going, I can have it all! I already do! If I can only keep running and never stop, I'll live forever..."

- Mark Patent ("Unexpected Upsides", Runner's World, January 2010)

Friday, January 1, 2010

First post: Los Angeles in succession

New Year's resolution: maintain a blog for a year.

Oh, the dreams I had for this first blog post. An illustrious blog post I would write, full of candor, wit, and f'in ACRIMONY -- so much bitterness for 2009, well fuck off, 2009! What would follow are my laments for the year, for each unfortunate thing that happened to me, my friends, my family, the world, and all my hopes and dreams for the future, for 2010 - the new year, a year of change and diversion and turning twenty-one and sluttiness*. But after the clock finally turned twelve and I laid in bed till four-something a.m. wondering what the hell to write about, it was just
blankness that came to mind.

And now here I am in LA in a beautiful house with my two besties. Having already discussed with them my shitty idea about blogging about my shitty and pathetic life, and not knowing what to reflect upon because my life is so shitty and pathetic*, they happily suggested that I discuss our wonderful four day trip (supposed to be five days but we are cutting it short). And I am thinking that there is no need to periodize the past year, or to create lengthy resolutions as if there is a starting date for my aspirations. If there is a right way to start the year, it would be to live by several ideologies:

1) No more resolutions. Just change. (via PostSecret.com) and
2) If you don't like something about yourself, then change it. (via myself)

So with these thoughts finally laid out, I can proceed with my many logical fallacies and run on sentences, and summarize this trip.
  • Went somewhere beautiful in Palos Verdes and ended up playing with a friendly (and rich) cat named Kai for an hour rather than check out the beautiful view.
  • Randomly ate at a Korean BBQ place in Koreatown, then made fun of a group of Koreans that were smoking outside by blasting kpop (2ne1 and Big Bang - Lollipop) in the parking lot as we left (fucked up?...or...fucking hilarious??).
  • Spent New Year's Eve dancing with toddlers in between taking swigs of champagne
  • My real name is Megan, I guess.
  • Bought the most beautiful bong at a head shop @ Venice Beach, a strip of the eclectic, freaks and crackheads that produce beautiful art, do street performances, and offer free joints. A perhaps overrated tourist area, but I do love it, and the streets of Venice are rampant with memories of friends (from frequent visits here) and scenes from American History X (friends and skinheads...mmm)
  • Had ramen at Hakata Ramen Shinsengumi in Gardena
  • When you are five years old, the whole world is unfair.
  • The five year old stole our chez (cheese). It was our chez. She stole it. She stole it.
  • Enriched in an environment of children that speak both Portuguese and Norwegian, along with English.
  • Amazing homemade Brazilian flan. Amazing homemade Brazilian rice. Amazing homemade Norwegian meatballs.
Hard to not talk about food. Excuse me as I go downstairs to make sandwiches.

*I kid.