That's a quote from this article, Highest Traces of Cocaine Found on US Bills.
Ironically, I am feeling too creative to post right now, so check out the list of poetry and prose websites on the right. Sorry and ciao.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
very very little italy
It's like my dad said--once you've lived in New York, you can never appreciate anything. And I hate to admit it, but it's so true. I went to Boston today, and we went to the Museum of Science all day. We saw the computing exhibit (which, of course, my dad found greatly interesting), a little of the heart-stopping electricity show, the childish 3D bugs-going-to-the-moon movie, the planetarium presentation, and the Imax sea monster movie. Wanna hear something bizarre? We also breezed through the baseball exhibit. How much more out-of-place could that possibly be? Are they seriously in that much of an idea rut?
Then for dinner, we went to The Pour House, a bar and grill with a cool casual atmosphere--paper towels on a holder adhered to the wall instead of napkins--and good food, but absolutely horrific musical choices on the radio. It hurt to listen. Plus it seemed like if we'd gone there anytime later than we did--around five--it would have been packed with partying yuppies. However, my taco salad was delectable.
Then for dessert, we headed to Mike's Pastry in "Little Italy," which made me sad about not being in New York. It was cute in a way because of what I described to my dad as its "non-Little-Italy-ness," but mostly just funny. The Italians there seemed to be trying really hard to be Italian, whereas in the NYC part of town with the same name, Italian people are just existing, being and speaking Italian. I got a great apple square--sounds stupid, but it was quite tasty--which I vowed to save for breakfast tomorrow morning but liked so much that I ended up gobbling it all. Mmm.
Related Links (click away, please!):
Boston Museum of Science
The Pour House
Mike's Pastry
Paul Revere House
We wanted to get a quick look at Paul Revere's house, but it was sadly closed. Did you know it's the only 17th-century building remaining in Boston?-->
Then for dinner, we went to The Pour House, a bar and grill with a cool casual atmosphere--paper towels on a holder adhered to the wall instead of napkins--and good food, but absolutely horrific musical choices on the radio. It hurt to listen. Plus it seemed like if we'd gone there anytime later than we did--around five--it would have been packed with partying yuppies. However, my taco salad was delectable.
Then for dessert, we headed to Mike's Pastry in "Little Italy," which made me sad about not being in New York. It was cute in a way because of what I described to my dad as its "non-Little-Italy-ness," but mostly just funny. The Italians there seemed to be trying really hard to be Italian, whereas in the NYC part of town with the same name, Italian people are just existing, being and speaking Italian. I got a great apple square--sounds stupid, but it was quite tasty--which I vowed to save for breakfast tomorrow morning but liked so much that I ended up gobbling it all. Mmm.
Related Links (click away, please!):
Boston Museum of Science
The Pour House
Mike's Pastry
Paul Revere House
We wanted to get a quick look at Paul Revere's house, but it was sadly closed. Did you know it's the only 17th-century building remaining in Boston?-->
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
women with babies
Right now I am reading The Cider House Rules, which I love. It's John Irving--I love him--and it is about obstetricians, or birthing doctors. There is a lot of medical stuff in it, which I don't love but don't mind either.
Anyway, the reason I'm writing this is because--if you haven't noticed already, most of my posts are spurred by sudden anger or other emotion--I am mad. There is a women a computer computers down with a very loud crying baby. Why would you bring a newborn to the library? Just have some consideration for other people, please.
Anyway, the reason I'm writing this is because--if you haven't noticed already, most of my posts are spurred by sudden anger or other emotion--I am mad. There is a women a computer computers down with a very loud crying baby. Why would you bring a newborn to the library? Just have some consideration for other people, please.
Monday, August 4, 2008
poignancy
So we're in the post office, sending my little sister at camp four packages, and my brother finishes his root beer, the purchase and consumption of which my mother strongly discouraged. She's kept talking about the 14 teaspoons of sugar in one soda and how models' number-one way to stay skinny is to abstain from drinking soda, as if my 8-year-old brother would care. Anyway, though, he finishes the root beer, and he's looking for somewhere to recycle it (he's an eco-friendly kid). He spots a blue plastic receptacle labeled "Recycling" by the table and heads over to pitch his soda can. Unfortunately, it is only for paper products, which my mom begins to say, when a woman standing by the table stamping her letters says, "It's for recycling, not trash."
Trash. Even my little brother knows that can wasn't trash. It's a recyclable material. But not to the people of this state. Oh, no.
Five seconds later, we're walking through town, and we pass the souvenir shop. Beneath the blue awning of the store lies a small platform with a dog bowl of water. However, people have been using it as a trash receptacle, and it's full to the brim with garbage.
My mother and I are simultaneously struck by the same thought: Oh my God. Does it get any more sad and poignant than this?
You know, in this state, you have to pay for recycling? That's right, you have to drive a while to the recycling plant and pay to recycle. I can't wait to get home.
All right, I'm done with my italics. Comment on the poem, please.
Trash. Even my little brother knows that can wasn't trash. It's a recyclable material. But not to the people of this state. Oh, no.
Five seconds later, we're walking through town, and we pass the souvenir shop. Beneath the blue awning of the store lies a small platform with a dog bowl of water. However, people have been using it as a trash receptacle, and it's full to the brim with garbage.
My mother and I are simultaneously struck by the same thought: Oh my God. Does it get any more sad and poignant than this?
You know, in this state, you have to pay for recycling? That's right, you have to drive a while to the recycling plant and pay to recycle. I can't wait to get home.
All right, I'm done with my italics. Comment on the poem, please.
Quick news update--I felt somewhat obliged
16 people were killed in China and now they're all freaked out about the Olympics
Did you know that it starts on 8/8/08 because 8 is the lucky number of the Chinese? I learned that when I was in Hong Kong 2 months ago. Then at camp everyone was saying the Olympics had already started, and I was like, No way man, you got your facts wrong!
Did you know that it starts on 8/8/08 because 8 is the lucky number of the Chinese? I learned that when I was in Hong Kong 2 months ago. Then at camp everyone was saying the Olympics had already started, and I was like, No way man, you got your facts wrong!
Poem for my stranger (composed on a BlackBerry)
I hope if you could see me now,
You'd still think I was cool.
Hair piled high in a messy bun
(--I know you like it
The other way--)
no
earrings
today.
A sweatshirt drags below and drowns
My hands,
Jeans muddy and wet
From the dog
Whom I hate.
Toes gritty from wearing flip-flops
Oh-so-brilliantly
(You
Would probably poke fun at me)
On that two-hour hike through
The New England woods.
Eyes puffy and miserable
From waking sleepless at four.
Head throbbing
From crying my eyes out just before bed
and not having the energy to get up
and take out my lenses
and brush the pie I'd eaten in an attempt to cheer
myself up
off my teeth.
For reasons indiscernible even to me,
I am reading
Seventeen magazine
For the fifth listless time in a row.
I guess I hope you remember me
For what you saw me as:
Clean, pretty, cheery, witty,
Showering at six in the morning
And going to bed at eleven
Or one
Or two.
I guess I hope you liked how
Spiffy
I was.
On the other hand
(--men
de--)
On the other hand I hope that
Wasn't what you liked.
On the other hand I hope you remember
The sarcasm and snappiness,
The flippant lack of care for the rules,
How a notebook cover
Could not just be a notebook cover,
But had to be a canvas.
How I tried to read
The Cider House Rules
But ended up with my forehead nestled between
the pages,
Too relaxed to do anything
But lie there
And listen intently
To whatever happened to be playing
On my iPod.
How,
When uninterested,
I would take whatever hapless piece of paper happened
to be lying there--
Drawing book, notebook, handout on which it was
vitally important
Not to draw--
And draw on it.
I hope you remember
That intense, foggy look I would get
When misunderstood
And how much more intense it would get
When communicated
Wordlessly
To you.
Through your eyes.
Stranger,
My stranger,
It isn't that I could forget those eyes
But that I could forget you.
Meaning falls from a page,
Leaks through a picture,
Slips away from clothes,
Seeps out of art.
The eyes
I have.
I know.
You cannot see a stranger
And forget his eyes.
Have you ever tried?
You can't.
But my stranger,
My stranger's eyes will not only be not forgotten,
But forever ingrained
Behind mine.
You'd still think I was cool.
Hair piled high in a messy bun
(--I know you like it
The other way--)
no
earrings
today.
A sweatshirt drags below and drowns
My hands,
Jeans muddy and wet
From the dog
Whom I hate.
Toes gritty from wearing flip-flops
Oh-so-brilliantly
(You
Would probably poke fun at me)
On that two-hour hike through
The New England woods.
Eyes puffy and miserable
From waking sleepless at four.
Head throbbing
From crying my eyes out just before bed
and not having the energy to get up
and take out my lenses
and brush the pie I'd eaten in an attempt to cheer
myself up
off my teeth.
For reasons indiscernible even to me,
I am reading
Seventeen magazine
For the fifth listless time in a row.
I guess I hope you remember me
For what you saw me as:
Clean, pretty, cheery, witty,
Showering at six in the morning
And going to bed at eleven
Or one
Or two.
I guess I hope you liked how
Spiffy
I was.
On the other hand
(--men
de--)
On the other hand I hope that
Wasn't what you liked.
On the other hand I hope you remember
The sarcasm and snappiness,
The flippant lack of care for the rules,
How a notebook cover
Could not just be a notebook cover,
But had to be a canvas.
How I tried to read
The Cider House Rules
But ended up with my forehead nestled between
the pages,
Too relaxed to do anything
But lie there
And listen intently
To whatever happened to be playing
On my iPod.
How,
When uninterested,
I would take whatever hapless piece of paper happened
to be lying there--
Drawing book, notebook, handout on which it was
vitally important
Not to draw--
And draw on it.
I hope you remember
That intense, foggy look I would get
When misunderstood
And how much more intense it would get
When communicated
Wordlessly
To you.
Through your eyes.
Stranger,
My stranger,
It isn't that I could forget those eyes
But that I could forget you.
Meaning falls from a page,
Leaks through a picture,
Slips away from clothes,
Seeps out of art.
The eyes
I have.
I know.
You cannot see a stranger
And forget his eyes.
Have you ever tried?
You can't.
But my stranger,
My stranger's eyes will not only be not forgotten,
But forever ingrained
Behind mine.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Bailey, you suck.
Bailey is my dog. A cockapoo, to be exact, is what she is, a five-month-old cockapoo. She makes me insane. Try six hours of the morning alone in a tiny cabin in the middle of the woods with no electronics, a five-month-old cockapoo, several different insect infestations, and an eight-year-old boy, and you will see what I mean.
Or try three and a half hours in the car driving to the animal hospital after said cockapoo has consumed a plate of 70% cacao truffles and is spazzing and panting and jumping up and down on your knees, giving you scratches and scars that look like you've been cutting yourself, and you will probably get the same drift.
Or better yet, try eating the first real food you've had all day while watching this very same dratted cockapoo vomit intensely for a very long time, and the same state of mind will most likely begin to grow on you.
Lucky me, I got to do all three yesterday when the fifth of a series of six guests to visit my family this summer left a gift arrangement of truffles on a low-lying table after--and this is the killer--already having seen Bailey jump onto that table. She, of course, had to promptly fly into disaster mode and interrupt my mom's class, yelling about "an emergency with the dog," which made my mom think Bailey had run away or been hit.
So we ventured off to the animal hospital--of course it had to be a Saturday, when the vet was closed--and the guest ventured off to the airport. Yes, she left. She stayed for one night, poisoned our dog, and left. Quite a pleasant woman.
Basically, I had such a wonderful day yesterday that I don't even have the energy left to tell you about it, especially because I'm working on some typing for my mom that she's paying me 20 bucks for, and I need the money.
Uh-oh, ominous wind. Sounds like another tornado, almost. Bye.
Or try three and a half hours in the car driving to the animal hospital after said cockapoo has consumed a plate of 70% cacao truffles and is spazzing and panting and jumping up and down on your knees, giving you scratches and scars that look like you've been cutting yourself, and you will probably get the same drift.
Or better yet, try eating the first real food you've had all day while watching this very same dratted cockapoo vomit intensely for a very long time, and the same state of mind will most likely begin to grow on you.
Lucky me, I got to do all three yesterday when the fifth of a series of six guests to visit my family this summer left a gift arrangement of truffles on a low-lying table after--and this is the killer--already having seen Bailey jump onto that table. She, of course, had to promptly fly into disaster mode and interrupt my mom's class, yelling about "an emergency with the dog," which made my mom think Bailey had run away or been hit.
So we ventured off to the animal hospital--of course it had to be a Saturday, when the vet was closed--and the guest ventured off to the airport. Yes, she left. She stayed for one night, poisoned our dog, and left. Quite a pleasant woman.
Basically, I had such a wonderful day yesterday that I don't even have the energy left to tell you about it, especially because I'm working on some typing for my mom that she's paying me 20 bucks for, and I need the money.
Uh-oh, ominous wind. Sounds like another tornado, almost. Bye.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
more about hair (hey, I'm bored)
Well, once my mom gets out of her close-to-the-end-of-the-summer-school-session faculty meeting, we're going to go into town and possibly get the dog groomed. Mom keeps asking about whether I remember the name of the groomer, and I keep reminding her that I didn't even know there was a dog salon here. Then tomorrow, I'm going to get my hair cut, yippee! I have miserable split ends. Weirdly enough, there are about six different spas, salons, etcetera here in this miniscule place. I guess little New England towns have to really have everything right there within a one- or two-mile radius, because when it's winter, you're completely snowed in.
That reminds me of my mom's friends. They've lived in Brooklyn for years--one of our Brooklyn friend-families--but they just recently decided to move to a tiny town in Canada. They have two small children and a yippy dog. They've also got an amazing house. (In fact, it turned out to be such a good investment that the father stopped working.) I wonder if they realize how totally removed from the rest of the universe they are going to be from about November to March. I mean, that's a long time to be crammed together in what looks from the pictures like a very small house with a screaming 9-year-old, 2-year-old, and puppy.
Not to be morbid, but the puppy may die.
Speaking of New York, I've been harboring this weird wish to move there. I mean, it would be a two-hour commute to school, but especially considering the fact that I have to wear a uniform, it would make me really feel like a student, which I like to feel. It would be like, oh, I'm getting up at 5 a.m. and leaving the house at 6 so I can catch a bus, look at me, in my plaid skirt and polo, I'm so devoted! I would love to feel that way.
All right, obviously I need to calm myself. Ooh, Nilla Wafers. Yum. Bye.
That reminds me of my mom's friends. They've lived in Brooklyn for years--one of our Brooklyn friend-families--but they just recently decided to move to a tiny town in Canada. They have two small children and a yippy dog. They've also got an amazing house. (In fact, it turned out to be such a good investment that the father stopped working.) I wonder if they realize how totally removed from the rest of the universe they are going to be from about November to March. I mean, that's a long time to be crammed together in what looks from the pictures like a very small house with a screaming 9-year-old, 2-year-old, and puppy.
Not to be morbid, but the puppy may die.
Speaking of New York, I've been harboring this weird wish to move there. I mean, it would be a two-hour commute to school, but especially considering the fact that I have to wear a uniform, it would make me really feel like a student, which I like to feel. It would be like, oh, I'm getting up at 5 a.m. and leaving the house at 6 so I can catch a bus, look at me, in my plaid skirt and polo, I'm so devoted! I would love to feel that way.
All right, obviously I need to calm myself. Ooh, Nilla Wafers. Yum. Bye.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
And now to get on with it.
As I've been trying to do my whole life.
I think I need a haircut. I had a dream about it last night. The same dream, however, also included dancing and performing slapstick with a monkey and getting a call from an unattainable boy, so I don't think I'm going to base too many grand life decisions off of this dream.
I'm feeling really fat. All I can eat is carbs. It's one o'clock, and already I've eaten:
I think I need a haircut. I had a dream about it last night. The same dream, however, also included dancing and performing slapstick with a monkey and getting a call from an unattainable boy, so I don't think I'm going to base too many grand life decisions off of this dream.
I'm feeling really fat. All I can eat is carbs. It's one o'clock, and already I've eaten:
- 1.5 waffles with whipped cream
- a small bowl of cereal
- a piece of bread with cheese
- a large amount of macaroni and cheese with ground beef
- M&Ms
Not that you would care. Not that anyone cares about any of the things I do or try to point out.
Time to go drop off my sister at camp, where she will be for a month. Bye.
my mom told me to go blog about my emptiness...
So naturally, I ended up writing a piece about cows, which are the current metaphor for the void that is my life. (I know, being melodramatic is fun, isn't it?)
Why everything in my life right now is centered around cows.
1. Cheese - Cheese has begun to play an important role in my existence. Between cheddar bunnies, macaroni, and Kraft's American Singles (which seem to be popping up uninvited everywhere), cheese is taking over.
2. Earrings - My earrings are shaped like cows. My sister got them for me as a birthday present. These earrings seem to be the only thing that people, including my own mother, notice about me. Even my little brother said, "Oh, those are really cute." So did Brittany, one of my mom's students, who is astonishingly rude and actually wears tye-dye. Not to be mean, but who actually wears tye-dye as something other than clothes to sleep in?
3. Salt/Pepper Shaker - I think it's the pepper shaker, but then again, it could be the salt, or it could even be one of those horrid things where someone has actually come along and ruined my day by bothering to mix up the salt and pepper inside of the shaker so that no matter how hard you try, you always get an ugly grey mix of spice that cancels itself out. Anyway, the pepper shaker is shaped like a cow, and it seems to be part of a kind of conspiracy.
If you have any suggestions on how to tame this wild takeover, please put them in the Cbox.
Why everything in my life right now is centered around cows.
1. Cheese - Cheese has begun to play an important role in my existence. Between cheddar bunnies, macaroni, and Kraft's American Singles (which seem to be popping up uninvited everywhere), cheese is taking over.
2. Earrings - My earrings are shaped like cows. My sister got them for me as a birthday present. These earrings seem to be the only thing that people, including my own mother, notice about me. Even my little brother said, "Oh, those are really cute." So did Brittany, one of my mom's students, who is astonishingly rude and actually wears tye-dye. Not to be mean, but who actually wears tye-dye as something other than clothes to sleep in?
3. Salt/Pepper Shaker - I think it's the pepper shaker, but then again, it could be the salt, or it could even be one of those horrid things where someone has actually come along and ruined my day by bothering to mix up the salt and pepper inside of the shaker so that no matter how hard you try, you always get an ugly grey mix of spice that cancels itself out. Anyway, the pepper shaker is shaped like a cow, and it seems to be part of a kind of conspiracy.
If you have any suggestions on how to tame this wild takeover, please put them in the Cbox.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
missing
I miss the city. Really a lot, I do. Who knew staying in New England for the entire summer would be so freaking hard? I mean, I did it last summer too, but last time I left in the first week of August to go home and help my dad paint the house. This time I'm here until August 22nd or so, which will be interesting because I haven't started any summer work at all, and it's all at home, three hundred miles away. What I really want is to be a 20-minute train ride from the middle of New York again.
What else is hard about this is that you can't get away from anyone here. You can't get away from your family at all, you can't get away from the town, and you can't get away from the kids. The other kids are everywhere and they're super-annoying, faculty kids where my mom is teaching. I'm always a faculty kid. It's part of my identity. I feel like I should have a superhero name. Watch out, America, it's the Perpetual Faculty-Kid-Girl, with laser-beam vision into the deepest, darkest faculty room lairs. Because believe me, I've seen it all, from a crappy computer room with a coffee machine and a single armchair to an air-conditioned lounge with three Xerox machines, a fridge and a microwave, and a consistent spread of donuts.
Well, I have to go now--my mom's done teaching. Time to put on my leather leggings and become...
THE PERPETUAL FACULTY-KID-GIRL!!
Well, I have to go now--my mom's done teaching. Time to put on my leather leggings and become...
THE PERPETUAL FACULTY-KID-GIRL!!
Sunday, July 6, 2008
camp
Hi everyone, I'm at nerd camp, so I can't be on the computer until roughly July 20th or so. My dad's visiting, so we're at a diner and I'm using his laptop's wireless.
I am very full. So now we're blowing this popsicle stand to go check out the WalMart Superstore (which is super depressing, with all its fat people and cheap stuff) so I can stock up my dorm room.
When I get back from camp, I promise I will write you a scathing story. I'm already writing character analyses based on my hallmates and classmates. Meanwhile, while you're waiting for me to return, check out this article.
Bye!
I am very full. So now we're blowing this popsicle stand to go check out the WalMart Superstore (which is super depressing, with all its fat people and cheap stuff) so I can stock up my dorm room.
When I get back from camp, I promise I will write you a scathing story. I'm already writing character analyses based on my hallmates and classmates. Meanwhile, while you're waiting for me to return, check out this article.
Bye!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
OK, Fine, Now It's The Fifteenth
All righty people. I'm going to give you a quick bulletpoint rundown on the past six days.
June 10th
- hung out around the house while Annie made calls and wrote emails, ate breakfast
- headed out to Maxim's Palace with Tim, Annie, and Annie's husband (sans Colin and Brian, who were at school)
- ate some weird food
- hiked up to the Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas, taking photos the entire short walk up
- took enormous amounts of pictures of the temple and surrounding incredible-ness
- it started to pour horrendously as we were walking back down, and we got soaked
- wet t-shirt contest (being the one wearing a thin white shirt, I believe I won)
- went back home to dry off and hung out until it was time to go to the hotel where we'd be staying for the last five days of our stay in Hong Kong
June 11th
- got food and ate breakfast in the room, which, I might add, is not too shabby
- headed to the mall; bought a magazine for Hanna and a mini guidebook with two fold-out maps--one of Central and one of Kowloon--for me
- went to Hong Kong Park, much against Hanna and Nate's will
- visited the Conservatory in the Park, which was beautiful and thrilling
- came back to the hotel, by which time Dad was done working
- met Dad for lunch
- saw Indiana Jones
- went back to the hotel and watched TV and ate until we fell asleep
June 12th
- got up, breakfast
- Dad went to work and we hung out in the room for a while
- consulted my miniature guidebook for directions to the world's longest escalator
- bickered with Hanna and Nate for a while, who wanted to take a taxi there instead of walk
- lost the argument
- took a cab to where the escalator starts near Central Market
- rode the escalator, which is more like a long uphill moving sidewalk, to Hollywood Road
- convinced Hanna and Nate to get off at Hollywood Road because I'd heard it was a great place to shop and get lost some
- walked around Hollywood Road a little and bought souvenirs and a necklace for Hanna
- took a taxi back to the hotel
- stayed in the hotel room until noon, sleeping and hanging around, before getting up the energy to go out
- consulted my mini-map again to see where the library was, but ended up going online because evidently there are tons of public libraries in HK
- took a taxi (I know, I know, we're lazy bums) to Hong Kong Central Library
- stayed at the library for a while, checking out the Chinese picture books and computers in the 6-floor establishment
- ate at the library cafe
- got lost a little in the streets around there--well, we tried. Actually, we ended up going in a complete circle and trying to hail a taxi back home. Taxis are stingy about picking up little kids standing alone in the rain.
- went back to the hotel upon Nate's request
- got up and had a special breakfast at one of the schmancy hotel restaurants, having a breakfast buffet that would have cost US$50, complete with fruit-topping-topped Greek yogurt and cocoa Rice Krispies (!!!), which I didn't know existed
- Dad went to work for a couple of hours, during which time we went shopping.
- first tried to find a graduation dress for Hanna in the mall, which didn't work out
- then went to street market only a New York block or so from the hotel and got a purse that a neighbor had requested we get her
- met up with Dad back in the hotel room and went out to the Wan Chai computer market
- went to the HK museum of art
- went to Cafe de Coral
- went home
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Today is June Thirteenth
Yes, it most definitely is. I've finally figured out--with two days to go, no less--that the time here is equivalent to home time plus 12 hours, which I knew but did not connect. So yes, I now know that it's June 13th. And I haven't written for four days.
On June 9th
We went to the pool all morning. Hanna and I were there alone with Nate for several hours, getting along just dandy. At about noon, Annie finally came with Brian, catching us just as we were wrapping up. She told me to get ready to go out with Colin and Tim to a recreational club. Colin's friend, Margaret-Ann, had invited him to come to a club she belonged to. Margaret-Ann was with a friend, Sophie, who was intimidatingly pretty and dressed like I think I'm supposed to as a girl my age. They seemed like nice-enough girls, although Sophie kept repeating the phrase "Oh my frickin God!" over and over to such an extent that I almost blew up at her.
First off, Colin, Tim, and I caught a subway into the middle of the city, where we hailed a cab and took it all the way to the club. Clubs are very big in Hong Kong, as I've both noticed and read, be they family recreation or gambling. Ours was the first, obviously. When we got out of the oddly silent taxi ride, during which no one said anything to each other, the girls were standing there being all giggly. You can just guess what I thought of that--'Oh, great, I'm in for a long afternoon with this kind of people? I'm so glad I made the social effort.' Because it had truly been an emotional schlep to drag myself out of bed and go meet a couple of girls who I'd never met before. The threat, of course, was that they could be really cool and good-looking and exclusive for all I knew.
They treated Colin unlike a nerd. This threw me totally off-balance because when Colin lived down the block from my family, we were the freaks of our school, the geeky crew who didn't really want to hang out with each other but kind of had to, along with Tim. Combined, we represent the epitome of our stereotype: between the computers, braces, twitchy nervous habits, senses of superiority, and the piano, we're a freaky gang. (Our parents are all friends, dooming us to a life of being grouped together.)
But I'm pretty sure Colin likes Margaret-Ann, so they're good friends. Add to this her tight friendship with Sophie, and you've got an equation for a (at least a little) popular guy. Who doesn't like a ladies' man?
Sitting at the western fare dining area on the deck surrounding this weirdly huge rec club, I felt a pang of awkwardness. I was so confused. Just because Tim and I didn't know those other two girls didn't mean no one would have anything to say, did it? I'd done everything right so far: I'd come, I'd smiled a lot, and I'd gotten a Sprite instead of a seltzer so I would look cool and not wimpy. Maybe it was the fact that Margaret-Ann had already gotten a Sprite...maybe it made me look like I was copying her...Goddamn being social! It was so hard! Was this what a group date was like? Jesus, was this what hanging out with other kids was like? 'No wonder my "friends" are always coaching me as to what to do and say,' I thought, amazed. 'No wonder I haven't got a boyfriend! I'm completely socially inept!'
When the torturous three-quarters of an hour of eating was through, we went up to the "Teens Room," skillfully both lacking any apostrophe and indicating a sense of trying too hard. We played foosball, air hockey, ping-pong, and pool. God, pool took the longest time. In total, we were probably up there for about two and a half hours. And somehow, even among people I would probably not see for years, most likely never see again, I managed to make myself the outcast.
This is why I have a blog.
Then--it's getting painful to relive this, so I'm making the rest quick--we went bowling, back to the game room, and at LAST, Colin, Tim and I took a cab and a subway back to the settlement where Colin lives with Annie, Brian, and their ever-traveling dad.
***
coming soon: june tenth, eleventh, and twelfth
On June 9th
We went to the pool all morning. Hanna and I were there alone with Nate for several hours, getting along just dandy. At about noon, Annie finally came with Brian, catching us just as we were wrapping up. She told me to get ready to go out with Colin and Tim to a recreational club. Colin's friend, Margaret-Ann, had invited him to come to a club she belonged to. Margaret-Ann was with a friend, Sophie, who was intimidatingly pretty and dressed like I think I'm supposed to as a girl my age. They seemed like nice-enough girls, although Sophie kept repeating the phrase "Oh my frickin God!" over and over to such an extent that I almost blew up at her.
First off, Colin, Tim, and I caught a subway into the middle of the city, where we hailed a cab and took it all the way to the club. Clubs are very big in Hong Kong, as I've both noticed and read, be they family recreation or gambling. Ours was the first, obviously. When we got out of the oddly silent taxi ride, during which no one said anything to each other, the girls were standing there being all giggly. You can just guess what I thought of that--'Oh, great, I'm in for a long afternoon with this kind of people? I'm so glad I made the social effort.' Because it had truly been an emotional schlep to drag myself out of bed and go meet a couple of girls who I'd never met before. The threat, of course, was that they could be really cool and good-looking and exclusive for all I knew.
They treated Colin unlike a nerd. This threw me totally off-balance because when Colin lived down the block from my family, we were the freaks of our school, the geeky crew who didn't really want to hang out with each other but kind of had to, along with Tim. Combined, we represent the epitome of our stereotype: between the computers, braces, twitchy nervous habits, senses of superiority, and the piano, we're a freaky gang. (Our parents are all friends, dooming us to a life of being grouped together.)
But I'm pretty sure Colin likes Margaret-Ann, so they're good friends. Add to this her tight friendship with Sophie, and you've got an equation for a (at least a little) popular guy. Who doesn't like a ladies' man?
Sitting at the western fare dining area on the deck surrounding this weirdly huge rec club, I felt a pang of awkwardness. I was so confused. Just because Tim and I didn't know those other two girls didn't mean no one would have anything to say, did it? I'd done everything right so far: I'd come, I'd smiled a lot, and I'd gotten a Sprite instead of a seltzer so I would look cool and not wimpy. Maybe it was the fact that Margaret-Ann had already gotten a Sprite...maybe it made me look like I was copying her...Goddamn being social! It was so hard! Was this what a group date was like? Jesus, was this what hanging out with other kids was like? 'No wonder my "friends" are always coaching me as to what to do and say,' I thought, amazed. 'No wonder I haven't got a boyfriend! I'm completely socially inept!'
When the torturous three-quarters of an hour of eating was through, we went up to the "Teens Room," skillfully both lacking any apostrophe and indicating a sense of trying too hard. We played foosball, air hockey, ping-pong, and pool. God, pool took the longest time. In total, we were probably up there for about two and a half hours. And somehow, even among people I would probably not see for years, most likely never see again, I managed to make myself the outcast.
This is why I have a blog.
Then--it's getting painful to relive this, so I'm making the rest quick--we went bowling, back to the game room, and at LAST, Colin, Tim and I took a cab and a subway back to the settlement where Colin lives with Annie, Brian, and their ever-traveling dad.
***
coming soon: june tenth, eleventh, and twelfth
Monday, June 9, 2008
Monday, June 9
I just woke up from sleeping through my second entire night of sleeping!! Hanna says to tell you that she slept all night too. Yesterday went like this.
We woke up at around 6:30 or seven. I took a shower, and then we had breakfast. Then the boys finally woke up and we went to the Dragon Boat Races. In the beginning, Dad and Hanna and I just stood there and watched for 15 minutes or so while the boys played on the beach where the races were taking place. Then, while they continued to play, Hanna and I took Dad "exploring" in Stanley because the races were not too exciting. They were just there, along with a whole bunch of foreign people in matching Lycra t-shirts. First we walked up through this little street to a cafe because it was burning hot and so incredibly humid. We got iced lemon tea and pizza breads. Then we continued up to a Haagen-Dazs, where Hanna got one scoop of cookies n cream and Dad and I shared two scoops of green tea ice cream, which I wanted because I thought it was exotic. It certainly did taste like green tea. I didn't have that much of it because I'm making an effort to detox, but it's not working out exactly. Maybe I'll detox at home, or if that doesn't happen, further into camp.
We rambled into Stanley Market and out to some random little piazza by the water surrounded by places like "PizzaExpress" that screamed 'tourist trap'. Dad took pictures of the water because it was so incredibly polluted, sickeningly so. When we were done taking pictures and looking around at the various beaches on the shoreline, we went back through Stanley Market to the open street we'd come in through, with the Haagen-Dazs and the cafe. Lots of little shops were housed on this big stone setup. We bought my mom some gifts.
When we returned to the beach, we stood there for a few minutes while Colin (Annie's son who's my age), Tim (Colin's visiting friend), and Nate got their shirts and shoes on. Then we walked up to find some taxis to get us home. Once home, we ate some lunch, and at about 1:30, Hanna and I went to the pool. We hung out there for a really long time before Colin and Tim got there, and then we hung around with them for an hour or so. Finally Annie showed up with Nate and Brian, Annie's younger son. Hanna, Colin, Tim and I went upstairs to play badminton. Then Barbara and Felice got there, local girls. One of them lives in the complex and the other is her friend. They're Hanna's age, and very silly. It was fun playing badminton with them, but then they wanted to go swimming with me and Hanna. That's when they got annoying. Pushing us into the pool over and over again isn't that funny, and it's even less funny shooting freezing cold water guns at my back in the dressing room after I just took a hot shower, where there are people with dry clothes.
After that, we headed into Central in taxis and a bus to have dinner (Dad finally talked Annie into it). Once we got out of the bus in Central, we walked around for a while and then found an outdoor Chinese and Thai place. We ate family-style, with a variation of foods from calamari to fried rice to greens with garlic, being careful not to have any chicken. Then we went to an ice cream place called XTC--read 'ecstasy'--where I got a single scoop of mango sorbet with rainbow sprinkles.
Anyway, we were planning to go up to the Peak in a tram, but the line was insane, so instead we walked to the ferry to see the light show. The ferry ride was short and sweet. This guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, and he said something I couldn't make out, so I said "I don't know." Witty, right? He looked at me like I was insane and said, "My name is Ajid. What is name?" I, ever the clever one, stared at him for a second before turning around. Dad later said to say "My name is I'm ** years old". Haha. So we got some amazing pictures of the buildings in their light dance. Have to go--breakfast. Bye!
Saturday, June 7, 2008
It's hard not to notice...
- the overabundance of students wearing absurd school uniforms, especially girls
- the banyan trees hanging thick with moss and palm trees that seem to be everywhere
- the bizarrely random English words on people's T-shirts, e.g. "Natural Dog" or "Satisfy With Smile Make Happy"
- all the pretty young girls who dress really well
- the crazy narrow streets
- how close to the curb the bus drivers careen
- how every female is wearing some sort of heels, whether they be a pair of slightly raised ballet flats or six-inch stilettos that seem destined to fall the storm grates
- that everything is translated into English, or sometimes even written solely in English
- that people look at their feet a lot when they walk
- that the American music they play at the mall is basically on ice-rink level (very very bad)
Random Facts
- There are 9 dialects of Cantonese
- Cantonese is a tonal language, where a swerve of the voice can make all the difference
- The number 4 means "very unlucky" and can be said differently to mean "death"
- 8 is extremely lucky, and gifts are often given in quantities of it
- In about 20 years, the street market culture will probably be gone (sad)
More HK Diary
June 4th
Today we got up and went to Kowloon. First we walked around the local market. There were so many cultural differences; it was surreal. I love how all the women are the same size. They're small-boned and thus tiny, with straight black hair. Everyone here always seems composed.
For some reason, Western clothing is widely worn: cheap graphic t-shirts, depressing neutral-colored polos, mesh shorts with white stripes running down the sides. Yet the posture of these people is so much better, and they carry themselves so well, that the American garments appear almost charming.
Even the older women seem quaint and elegant. There is a kind of organized chaos about the whole place, a different kind of aura. That's definitely what it is: a peaceful, mutual hurry, and fast-paced serenity, with everything and everyone in their place. The feeling is like when, in a movie, the character stands frozen in time while he watches life continue on at light speed all around him.
I'm sorry, I just got so relaxed I couldn't think to write.
At the open Kowloon food market, young girls, old women, and middle-aged men sell their wares at different stands. I like it so much more than Stanley, which I have recently decided I hate. There are bunches of grapes, huge and triangular, like when you doodle a bunch of grapes. There is durian, the worst smelling fruit in the world, which is banned from being brought onto the subway in Singapore for its smell. There are huge oranges, tiny rambutan and lychees, fruits that look like something you could never imagine, like a cross between an artichoke and a pear. The butchers ruthlessly cut up meat with giant knives six inches high, slicing so fast you're convinced they'll chop off their own hands. Huge sides of beef hang amiably side by side with long, chunky pigs' legs (I never realized pigs were so tall).
Then we walked to the Jade Market, a vaguely indoor setup of so many jeweler's stands selling the exact same things: "jade" bracelets, a glass circles on a string, little glass Buddhas, woven friendship bracelets with charms on them. Everyone claimed what they sold was real jade and tried to prove it by lighting a lighter to it. I guess that works for those dumber tourists who know nothing about jade or stone, because all that trick shows is that it's not plastic. The sellers all tried ripping us off insanely. People look at me as something of a token. I like this alienation, though. It's not lonely. It feels kind of good.
In the end, I bargained (well, Annie did the bargaining, I stood there nodding) a thread drawstring neckalce with a purple glass flower from HK$120 to HK$35.
Then we got lunch at this huge local place where we were the only Westerners, which was great. There was fried rice, different kinds of rolls (from sweet with barbecued pork to spring to rice), greens, everlasting noodles in soup, and Hanna tried chickens' feet. I tried to try it too, but I only had the guts to get some of the coating. I dislike cartilage.
We went home and slept forever, then ate really good chicken and biscuit stuff. I dropped to sleep--after two movies and some reading.
Today we got up and went to Kowloon. First we walked around the local market. There were so many cultural differences; it was surreal. I love how all the women are the same size. They're small-boned and thus tiny, with straight black hair. Everyone here always seems composed.
For some reason, Western clothing is widely worn: cheap graphic t-shirts, depressing neutral-colored polos, mesh shorts with white stripes running down the sides. Yet the posture of these people is so much better, and they carry themselves so well, that the American garments appear almost charming.
Even the older women seem quaint and elegant. There is a kind of organized chaos about the whole place, a different kind of aura. That's definitely what it is: a peaceful, mutual hurry, and fast-paced serenity, with everything and everyone in their place. The feeling is like when, in a movie, the character stands frozen in time while he watches life continue on at light speed all around him.
I'm sorry, I just got so relaxed I couldn't think to write.
At the open Kowloon food market, young girls, old women, and middle-aged men sell their wares at different stands. I like it so much more than Stanley, which I have recently decided I hate. There are bunches of grapes, huge and triangular, like when you doodle a bunch of grapes. There is durian, the worst smelling fruit in the world, which is banned from being brought onto the subway in Singapore for its smell. There are huge oranges, tiny rambutan and lychees, fruits that look like something you could never imagine, like a cross between an artichoke and a pear. The butchers ruthlessly cut up meat with giant knives six inches high, slicing so fast you're convinced they'll chop off their own hands. Huge sides of beef hang amiably side by side with long, chunky pigs' legs (I never realized pigs were so tall).
Then we walked to the Jade Market, a vaguely indoor setup of so many jeweler's stands selling the exact same things: "jade" bracelets, a glass circles on a string, little glass Buddhas, woven friendship bracelets with charms on them. Everyone claimed what they sold was real jade and tried to prove it by lighting a lighter to it. I guess that works for those dumber tourists who know nothing about jade or stone, because all that trick shows is that it's not plastic. The sellers all tried ripping us off insanely. People look at me as something of a token. I like this alienation, though. It's not lonely. It feels kind of good.
In the end, I bargained (well, Annie did the bargaining, I stood there nodding) a thread drawstring neckalce with a purple glass flower from HK$120 to HK$35.
Then we got lunch at this huge local place where we were the only Westerners, which was great. There was fried rice, different kinds of rolls (from sweet with barbecued pork to spring to rice), greens, everlasting noodles in soup, and Hanna tried chickens' feet. I tried to try it too, but I only had the guts to get some of the coating. I dislike cartilage.
We went home and slept forever, then ate really good chicken and biscuit stuff. I dropped to sleep--after two movies and some reading.
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