Romantic Goggles

best Japan eating tour ever :D

2008-11-13T05:20:36Z

Last week, I bought my tickets to visit Japan over New Year's. December 28th to January 8th. Very exciting. Very distracting.
I'll be staying with my friend Kenji and his family. He emailed me offering their hospitality and asking for my schedule so he could "prepare the best Japan eating tour ever" for me. Haha! How could I resist that? So I bought my tickets and sent him my itinerary, such as it is so far.
I can't wait to see them again.

Slightly less dramatic, but still good things:
rediscovering Pat Benatar
reading World War Z, by Max Brooks
finishing things
family
starting things
this still awesomest video of dancingness

Happy Halloween

2008-10-31T19:59:49Z

Please enjoy Indian Thriller.

whoa.

2008-10-19T00:30:55Z

So I met this girl.
I'm not even sure now exactly how we met: somewhere on campus, I think, we just kind of ran into each other. And we just got along really well.

I think her family is from Malaysia, but she has a clear, California-native accent. She smiles easily, but doesn't laugh that often. Tending towards quiet, she seems very aware, very watchful, rather than shy. She's not afraid to say what she thinks, but seems to approach most conversations as an opportunity to learn more about people. (An approach I relate to powerfully.)

She echoes in my mind... Her quick, bright smile. The warmth and calm of her voice, the combination of insight and humility. Her dark eyes, the way she's always so aware. Gah.

It's dangerous and delightful. We've met a few times, I gave her a ride to her place after school, shared an entirely gratuitous hand-clasp when we said goodbye. We went out for lunch together, spent some of the afternoon walking around Golden Gate Park and talking about things that really important.

I don't know her that well, we've gone out once, and I'm already thinking about the texture of her hair more than my curriculum project, nevermind all the processing I'm spending on her thoughts, the ways she uses words.
Certain word-choices reinforce the feeling that she might not be California-native (though that might just be the influence of her family), and her values regarding the importance of education and the central place of her family in her life are pretty unusual. I've talked to her about her family and where she's from, but I'm still not clear whether she was born here or not.

I think the next time I take her out I'm going to kiss her hands.

And that's when I woke up. And now I miss her.
It's been a while since I dreamed of a girl I don't know- someone entirely fictional. I'd forgotten how easily relationships unfold in dreams, how so much goes unspoken in easy understanding.

back only to complain, i guess

2008-10-11T22:29:33Z

It's absurd how much my life is structured around work these months.
Too busy to think, too busy to write. (Excuses, still, but halfway true.)
Too busy to be really happy.
Too busy to spel everythin wright.
Too busy for tears or illness.
Too busy for any but the most cramped forms of laziness.

Interning over the summer, the pace of it took my breath away.
Should have had time to write, to plan, to visit.
Should have had time to paint, to go camping.
Didn't, didn't, didn't have time.
And I was nearly drunk with the pace.
I felt giddy, exhilirated to work so hard, think so much, learn so quickly.
I saw my leisure-plans crumble aside, left behind. I bumped over my regrets and rushed ahead.

Now, in the fall, I teach my own class.
And still take graduate classes.
And exhiliration has become something else.
This is searingly, crushingly busy.
I can no longer plan things farther ahead than next week.
I can no longer wait and schedule things when things open up.

I live through and inside my calendar-planner.
If something needs to get done, it must be jammed into a specific slot, assigned to a day and jostle against my other appointments to survive.
Spontaneous, unscheduled activities are rare, stunted things that I always suffer for indulging.

I enjoy my students, and I'm constantly impressed by my ability to get things done.
But I will not live like this for long.
I could, perhaps, but I will not.
If things don't change next semester or the semester after, well...
Things must change, or I will.

The irony of this post.
Work took me away from this journal, from all my softer thoughts and all the abstract duties that remain unpaid.
(So goes the story I tell myself, because I still have time for reflexive, knee-jerk doubts.)
Work brings me back. Circles and cycles.
Next week I start my students on a project to explore some of the niches in San Francisco. To introduce them to the project, my advisor suggested I show a slideshow of interesting places I've been to in the city.
Me being me, I thought the most striking frame for this slideshow would be:
"Dates I've Been On In SF"
It's catchy, right?

So I comb over my memories & records for "dates" and locations. I'm using a generous, but not entirely misleading definition of "date." This backwards trawling is strange, like visiting someone else's life. But still not that much fun.

Michelle at the Asian Art Museum.

Melody at the De Young Museum.

Diep at Brain Wash Cafe.

Joanne at the Independent Exposure film festival.

Madison at that korean restaurant...

And so inevitably, inexorably, I come to the end of the collection, and I can't remember: what was the name of the restaurant I went with Madison?
But, ha, lucky me, I recorded that information in my journal. So I reread that entry, tired and busy now and angry all over again. (The restaurant's name was "Doobu.")

For work's sake, I came back to this journal. For work's sake, I am confronted with these memories and emotions.
Memories and emotions that I've largely avoided for work's sake...

The irony doesn't amuse, but it does get me writing again. For what that's worth.
I need to continue my lesson-planning.

see, I don't have one anymore

2008-04-30T04:07:44Z

When you work your butt off, where does it go?

signals

2008-04-08T06:40:00Z

furious

If you just want to be friends
be careful in showing selective attention
be direct
don't make up weird excuses to see me (I'll consider that flirtatious.)

don't damn well tell me that you "like men who are honest with their emotions" ("I like my friends to say what they feel" is plenty good, yeah?)

when I say something you think is clever, just laugh. don't say "ooh, I like that."

don't be coy
don't play games with your age (I'll consider that flirtatious.)
don't act all embarrassed after talking about families 'cause "we're not getting married or anything." (Because of course we're not getting married, you don't even like me, right?)

don't spend a lot of time explaining why you like me.

don't hug me until you know me better (seriously, why are you doing that?)
and while we're on that, don't LEAN YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER during the movie, got it?

and don't assume that because I have many female friends, I am only interested in becoming friends.

I just want to be friends.

2008-04-07T05:38:46Z

So. Yeah. (Meaning "no.")
I should just stop posting about this stuff. Just go read my old entries! It's always the same story, anyway!
*scowl*
I swear, what's the point in trying?

Yeah, I'm angry about it. Bitter, even. But it's so familiar, even my anger is a tired retread. Each time, it gets less shocking, yet remains surprising.
It's just- why?! You know, why?

And now it's time for the musical adaptation:

"So
She says it's time she goes
But wanted to be sure I know
She hopes we can be friends

...Maybe she's just looking for
Someone to dance with."

"Stranded at the drive-in
Branded a fool
What will they say
Monday at school?"

Surely you can think other songs that should go this album?

like fresh bread, grass after the rain

2008-04-03T21:15:58Z

So.
I... I,uh... well, I went on a date. (And it was totally, undeniably a date. No amount of mind-bending paranoiac doubt-mongering can obscure this simple fact. And I didn't even have to ask if it was a date to find this out, ha!)
And, uh, well, it went well. Quite well, I'd venture to say, actually.

Strange, perhaps even stupid, really, to realize... this is my first time. I know, it doesn't make sense!
"But what about-"
"That wasn't really a date."
"Well, what about-"
"That wasn't a date either."
"But you don't know that!"
"Exactly."
"Oh, I see what you mean. Well, surely that other-"
"Well, maybe. I suppose that probably counts. But I had to ask outright, didn't I? Not exactly a regular date if you spend half of the 'date' discussing whether it's a date."
"Hmm, maybe you're right. So, wait a minute, you're saying this was a regular date? No crazy meta-talk? No careful contractual explanations of the relationship between romance and friendship? And you're sure it was a date?"
"Pretty regular, yeah. And, yes, I am sure. 100% positive."
"But- I mean, do you even, I mean, do you even do that? That doesn't even sound like a Danya date!"
"I know, it's kinda nice actually, to-"
"But no meta-talk?!"
"Well, actually there was some meta-talk. Yeah, some. But here's the thing, it wasn't like we were- we weren't talking about us, you know? We weren't like 'making up' the relationship, we were just getting to know each other, expressing our thoughts, whatever."
"But- but that's like a regular date!"
"I know! Hahaha!"
"And you... you're okay with this?"
"Yeah. Listen, I think I'd better try to explain a bit more."
"Alright, go ahead."

Okay. A while ago, not that far from here, I met a girl. In class last spring. My sociolinguistics class. She was nice, seemed quite friendly really. But kind of... I don't know, a little distant. She was always very warm to me, but she didn't say much in class and didn't seem to associate much with the other students. Almost aloof.
Anyway, I was busy getting to know a large group of international students in that class, so I just sort of filed her away in my mind. 'It'd probably be interesting to get to know her better sometime' kind of thing. Other things seemed more, uh, immediate at that time.

. . . That sounds a bit cold, doesn't it? Hm. Well.

Anyway.

Time moved along, as it tends to, in those fits and twitches that go so far. Summer went by, filled to a subjectively impressive degree with those stupid little bits of Diep-drama and imponderable chunks of whatever-it-is-that-fills-the-summers-of-those-without-jobs-or-anything.
And fall semester was about to begin. And I felt ready for it. Or at least eager. ("My first semester at graduate school!" Huh. How I laugh at that now...)

And I got a call from my friend Yunkyoung the week before the semester began. She told me that girl from sociolinguistics wanted to talk to me about applying to the graduate program, here's her number.
So I call her. (Why not? Be nice to help someone, maybe get a chance to get to know her better.)
She says she wants to talk about applying to the graduate program.
Okay.
She says we should get together to talk about it, maybe coffee on campus.
Uh, okay. Sure...
We have to figure out our schedules, there's no hurry...

So. We're supposed to meet up... sometime... and talk about the graduate program. This strikes me as a bit odd. Something not-quite-straight.
Oh well, if it's a set-up, whatever. It's not like telling someone how I got into grad school would be selling secrets or anything. And if it's just a trick to spend time with me? Well, okay, then. (Why not just ask, though? whatever.)

School begins. Things are set into motion, schedules become fixed yet ever-complicating. I try to schedule something with the girl (perhaps woman is better?) from sociolinguistics, but it doesn't work out.
Life goes on. I run into her once or twice on campus. We laugh at our scheduling difficulties, very friendly and not overly concerned to learn my grad school secrets.
Life goes on. I get caught up in thoughts of Thailand, the semester closes in a rush of projects.

Winter passes in a continuous acceleration.
Dazed, with uncertainty thick upon me from my trip to Thailand, the spring semester begins.

I arrange a party for myself, a birthday party almost a month late, a welcome home party that I throw for myself, an old school pizza party. Just a simple party.
A few days before the party, I run into the woman (gotta practice so it sounds natural) from my sociolinguistics class on campus. I invite her to my party, we reestablish that we have each other's numbers.
I was struck by how warm and friendly she was. How warm and friendly she's always been to me. Particularly striking after basically waiting a whole semester and winter for... for something. For me to call her, basically. In my experience, that kind of stalled momentum tends to sour, and meeting later is generally somewhat awkward and uncomfortable, no matter how positive the intentions. ("Oh, ha, uh, yeah, sorry about that... Yeah, uh wish we'd... you know, pretty... pretty busy, you know..." Ugh.)
So it struck me, and still does. She seemed quite persistent and consistent in the warmth she'd extended me. Pretty determined. That impressed me.

And she came to the party, which impressed me further. I didn't know her that well, so I imagined she might reasonably expect not to know that many people at the party. And she brought a gift, which I didn't expect at all. (And I'm a sucker for a well-written card-sentiment.)
I enjoyed that party a great deal, I had a lot of friends there. I didn't get to talk too much with her, but I kept an eye out to see if she was okay. She seemed at ease, talking with Nan and others from our sociolinguistics class. She always seems so calm and self- assured. Intriguing. And Heather, of course, was over there. Heather's such good party-material, so unobtrusively moving about and making sure everybody's having a good time.
When it was time for her to leave, we reaffirmed intentions to hang out sometime. Sometime sooner than later.

And the semester grinds away, ugly and unrelenting. I feel small and unbrave, barely above the surface and astounded at the gaping ocean I have yet to travel. Thailand left me with still so many questions and open doubts. And the future looms up, heavy and obscure.
I hid out, fell off the face of the earth, caught the flu, didn't post.
An unhappy, unwholesome time.

As midterms walked upon me, I gasped and drew breath, startled into some action. I wrote out my lesson plan, amazed that I could. I felt like I wanted to.
And I looked ahead to spring break.
I felt my breath quicken, my lungs and blood moving into rhythm. My head came into use.

And I thought of futures, far and close. Still so much unknown, but with my eyes opened, I could see around to what is at hand. I could perhaps still be what I want to be, even if I don't know what I will be. And it was time to change, to breathe new air.

And I thought I had a debt to settle, a question to at least try and answer, even if it wasn't about the graduate program.
I felt slightly reckless, impatient to get out of the dust. Spring break was the right time.

Her name is Madison. I called her on a Wednesday night before spring break began. I left a voice message, in my usual rambling awkward and friendly manner, to invite her to dinner "or something." There! It's begun.
An hour later, she sent me a text. Just good to hear from you, talk soon. I was unsatisfied, but not dissuaded.
Thursday went along by.
Friday, at midday, after class, quite by accident, I encountered Madison again on the steps of the library. We talked, smiling, about school and plans for the break. I kept it back, waiting to bring up my invitation and enjoying the conversation. Then she said that we should see a movie over the spring break. "That would be relaxing."
Ha! Yes! Excellent! A clear suggestion and invitation, a form to my hope!
While I soared and stumbled, I grasped the moment, and I asked for her email address. I prefer writing, most particularly in those foolish early times. She said that was a better way to contact her, I concurred, and she gave it me, stumbling a bit. We laughed, and she apologized,
"It's difficult, speaking in second language, when you are tired." I laughed and said that it was difficult even in one's first language. Then we said our goodbyes, I urged her out of the cold, clasped her hands in farewell. I commented on how cold her hands were and grasped them again, quickly and carefully squeezing them.
Then we went our ways. I laughed at myself, and walked happily through the chill air.

On Sunday, I looked for movies to suggest. I spent a few hours on moviefone and rottentomatoes and looking at trailers on youtube. A quick, intensive plunge into research on the current state of national cinema. Looking for what's there, what looks fun, what might be most approachable, what's quality. What would I feel comfortable sitting through with someone important next to me?
With these filters in place, I was left with four movies. I was surprised. Usually I can't find one. (Thinking about seeing a movie as a date is an interesting filter. Makes things shinier.)

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day: some risk of stupid ideas, but Frances McDormand for awesomeness.
CJ7: stupidness a given, but fun, and strong chance of cute.
Horton Hears a Who: if not bad, could be good.
Definitely, Maybe: looks halfway interesting, romantic comedy an obvious choice.

So I sent off an email to Madison to show my findings, complete with links to trailers and a bit of my thoughts on each choice. I was enjoying being concise and expansive, flexible and directive. I enjoyed imagining how each movie would go as a date. I felt successful and generous. I felt like I was being a good date.

Madison had warned me not to be too impatient for her reply. This advice I did my best to follow, and two days later I received a reply from Madison. She had enjoyed the weekend. In fact she'd seen Horton Hears a Who on Saturday. Oh. And it wasn't as good as she'd hoped. Ah. She would like to see Under the Same Moon. Wait, what? Or Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, if I didn't want to see that.
Oh. Hmmm. So much for all my carefully laid out choices. Well, let's see about this one, then. Yes, I remember, that movie about the illegal immigrant and the harrowing journey her nine year-old son makes to find her. Erm, not exactly the easy material I'd been fantasizing about. Well let's check out a few reviews, determine as well as I can whether it's tolerable.
...Okay, looks alright. Maybe not so bad as I'd first thought. But if it's any good, it should definitely make me cry. That might be a bit surprising for her. Well, she'll have to get used to that, anyway. Or not...
Anyway, let's go for it.

I email Madison explaining that I will cry, but okay. She says she likes men who are honest with their emotions. Ha! And, by the way, her friend wants to join us, is that alright?
...
....
.....ack.
Ack, bah! Graaaaahhhhh! Brah! Gummgphghrack. I mean, how can I answer that? No. There's no good answer to that question. Either I say "I don't mind, that's totally fine, bring whoever, I don't actually care what happens" (which is a lie) and I sound all casual just-friends useless. Or I say "I do mind, I want you to be alone, I'm totally insecure" (which isn't quite true, I hope) and sound stupid male. Great.
So I thrash around for a while, complaining and bemoaning. Stupid early relationship stages, can't actually expect to just say how you feel, can you? Bleh.
You know what? I am going to say how I feel. That's how I'm going to answer this. (Softened around the edges a bit, of course.)

I email back saying that I'd normally be all 'yes, more people, woo!' You know, 'cause I like people. But, um, how to put this... (Not on a date!) Well, when I'm getting to know someone, I like to just, you know, focus on that person. You know? But it's okay, I can deal. Just gotta "adjust my expectations."
Alright! I think that was a pretty good answer to a difficult situation. Danger averted. Good job, dude!

So I get an email back. She says that she tries not to build up too high expectations, live right, trust in God. Huh. That seems a bit... pointy. She's sorry for asking about her friend joining us... Crud. She thought I'd enjoy hanging out with new people. Oi! That isn't what I meant! But now she sees that I enjoy one-on-one as well. uh, yes... ? And she looks forward to talking about the issues in the movie.

well.
Uh, ouch? Oof. That wasn't so much fun. I am poked. I feel it is unjust, yet... I cannot really fault or disagree with anything she wrote. Hmm. I don't really know quite what to say to all that.
I mean, we have to have expectations! And I do like hanging out with new people and groups and stuff! We have to have expectations, it's how we live! And, and... what am I going to do?
It seems a bit early to start an argument, don't you think? We haven't even had our first date, for pete's sake! Besides, I don't actually disagree with her.
No, probably better to leave this be. But I do have to say something, both for courtesy and to satisfy myself... Okay, but keep it short. And try to keep it unpointy.

So I write back.
Yes, live right, but expect that things will work out. I don't always succeed at the whole 'don't worry' part of that business. So I try to communicate myself clearly, avoiding false assumptions. But that don't always work neither neither. Anyway, I hope your friend joins us another time, and I look forward to sharing our thoughts about the movie.
So.
Hurry up and go!

I travel to San Francisco, fancied up in my best totally-not-dressed-up shirt and those pants that fit me so well. And, haha, cologne! Hahahah! *ahem* It was a gift. And I like it. So there.
I struggled through traffic, using my carhorn for the first time to avoid being crushed. I arrive in Japantown in my comfortable not-quite-finery. I quest for free parking (it's never made sense to me to pay for a car to sit somewhere), but time is short, and San Francisco doesn't agree with me.
So I wiggle around until I'm aiming the right direction to get into the parking beneath the Kinokuniya building. I park, wander around the parking lot a bit, wander around Kinokuniya a bit, wander the street a bit and finally arrive at the Kabuki 8, 2 minutes before we had planned to meet up.
I had very much intended to be early.

Madison is there, reading a newspaper. (People still do that? I wonder if it's in English or Korean, but didn't think to actually check.) She's already bought my ticket. (When should I pay her back? Right now? Seems inelegant.)
I apologize for being late. She waves it aside, points out that I'm actually on time.
She asks, "Do you want some popcorn?" which I've been sort of wondering about.
"Not really. Do you want some popcorn?"
She admits she's a bit hungry.
"Then let's get some popcorn!" We can share! And I can pay!
But she beats me to it. Hrm. (Oddly, I just saw one of those "Life takes Visa" advertisements that mirrored exactly this experience. Well, you know, except for all the swashbuckling.)

Interlude:
Okay, I'm not rich, and I'm not obsessed with paying for stuff. Money is stupid, and I aim to get my gentleman points in other ways. But I'm not a scrub, and I don't want to seem or be a leech. I'd like to at least pay my share. 50-50 is fine with me, or 60-40 or however the numbers work out that specific day. But let me pay for something! You can go ahead and make a statement of equality and empowerment by insisting on paying for your own icecream, that's fine. But please let me pay for something, if only my own iced tea. Let me contribute to your statement of equality, okay?
/interlude.

So we find our way to our seats. (She asked for directions to find out to which auditorium we've been assigned before I could wander too far. But don't worry, we did some wandering later on, heh.)
An odd thing about the Kabuki 8 (the "new" Kabuki 8? Wasn't it closed for a while?) is that your ticket gives you an assigned seat. Yeah, weird. Kinda fancy-like, like going to a play, haha. Fortunately, our tickets came with adjacent seats. Very fortunate. :)
We talk a bit before the movie begins..
Do I play piano? Any instrument? No. I am about to go into how my own lack of musical training saddens me, how my cousins play beautifully, but how they sacrificed for that, and I'm not sure I would put my kids through that. But she replies, "Well, but you read a lot." Huh.
Somewhere in there before the movie's beginning, she asks my age. Like she's double-checking something. So I tell her. (I might be paranoid in wondering if this is the beginning of the end, but I've got my reasons. Anyway, might as well just answer and relax.) She nods, as if she's confirmed something.
Of course, I ask her age in turn. And, of course, she asks me to guess. (Why do so many girls do that?) I think for a moment, complaining mildly that I suck at guessing ages. (No, seriously, I suck bad. Like a lot.)
"Twenty-seven?" I think she might a bit older than that, but I can't really tell, so.
She asks "why do you think I'm older than you?"
It's an interesting moment. It feels important that I answer this well. But I'm not worried. I trust myself, my reasons. So I take a moment to gather the pieces, then go ahead.
"Well... there are two main reasons, I think," holding up two fingers in the darkened theater, the way I like to when I'm explaining myself.
She's quietly appreciative (delighted, perhaps?) at this small piece of academian dramatic flair. "I like how this is going."
I smile at that. "One is that, well, you have a tremendous amount of personal dignity. You always seem so calm." I can tell that she's taken a bit aback by this, but she waits for the second reason.
"And two, well..." this is a bit more delicate. "Historically, I've always gotten along better with older people." (What I'm thinking is more precisely that older women are generally more interested in me, but it seems better to express the more general truth.)
Did she clap her hands together? Either way, she is very much satisfied with my answer, expressing approval and pleasure. But she does not tell me her age.
Very well. I will be satisfied with my good answer and knowing that my age does not present great difficulty for her. I will learn her age in time.

The movie begins, and our conversation is more limited. Small negotiations over the popcorn. (Started out with me simply holding it, then she wanted to hold it, then asked me to put it in the empty seat next to me, then I held it for the rest of the movie. I was satisfied, holding the popcorn for her. We end up with a lot of extra popcorn; neither of us really likes popcorn much, ha.) Then mostly we are in the movie.
The movie is good. It has sad bits and funny bits, and they are reasonably effective. It is well-done, but not subtle. You can see the strings they pull to generate audience reaction, but they are good strings, and the movie isn't ashamed that you can see it. The acting is quality, and the child, played by Adrian Alonso, is astonishing.
The first time I cry, I avoid looking over to see if she is also crying.
The next time I cry, I look over and we sort of shrug and smile through our respective tears.
I'm laughing while the boy and the drifter sing angrily at each other, "I'm not the user!" and I look at Madison. She's wiping at her eyes, and she complains that her eyes are bothering her, she's not crying. I laugh a little. "You mean you don't think this is the saddest scene in the movie?" She laughs.
The movie goes on.
The ending is happy, and we're both crying. She puts her head on my shoulder and gives a trembly sigh. I'm crying, but I'm happy. Madison gives me a tissue, and I wipe at my eyes beneath my glasses, feeling a bit awkward, yet appreciative. (I don't usually cry into a tissue, or wipe my eyes much either. Usually I just cry, wash my face after.)
Madison commented on the audience getting up out of their seats immediately at the beginning of the credits. I agreed, and so I was a little surprised when she got up only a minute or so later. As we walked out, she commented on the movie, what she liked about it. She appreciated the opportunity to see the difficulties of the illegal immigrants, and how the bonds of the family overcame those difficulties. She hasn't had much exposure to Mexican culture, so that was interesting for her, as well.
I couldn't say much, as I was still deeply engaged in my own emotional response to the movie. (Usually takes me 10 or 15 minutes to be able to discuss an emotional movie.) We began to wander up the street.

Madison asks,"So, do you have any plans for the evening? Are you going home?"
No, I'm not going home now if I have anything to say about it! "No, I don't have any plans. But I thought it would be nice if we had dinner together."
She agrees, and we spend a few minutes discussing.
Korean or Japanese?
Yes, I like Japanese food. Yes, I like Korean food. (Don't really care much what we eat, actually, just so it's not overly distracting or expensive.) I like food.
Or maybe Mexican?
Probably not in Japantown, haha. Plenty in SF, though. I could drive... But I'd like to have Korean food. I don't get to go out for Korean very often. If that's okay with you?
Fine with her, she knows a couple of places around here. "There's that one. But it's probably too expensive. Yeah, too expensive." Okay. "Ah, there's that one. It's good, it's pretty good. Not too expensive."
Sounds good.

We make our way over to Doobu, a Korean tofu house. The price is reasonable, about what I'd expect from a Korean tofu house, but the food is better than I've had before. I enjoyed the purply rice and enjoyed my small adventure on my side of the table. Whole, unshelled shrimp staring at me through dull black eyes? *crunch, crunch* That was... that was okay. Oysters for the first time? Sure, why not? But I can't really tell them from the clams...
I was mildly entertained to order my combination seafood tofu soup "spicy." Madison tells me that she only goes up to "medium."
Although, actually, she did the ordering, which took me a little aback. Oh well, I don't speak Korean.
We linger over dinner, talking, talking.
We talk a little about our families, we talk about religion, we talk about psychology, we talk a little about kids. I brag about Megumi-chan.
At one point, Madison is saying something about children and family and sort of catches herself. "But, I mean, it's not like we're getting married!" I smile. I like that. I like that a lot, that she aims herself in that direction, self-consciously but not apologetically.
She talks about conversational topics, about how she can talk about shopping with the girls, but would rather spend her time elsewhere. I can relate to that. You try to be friendly with everyone, approachable, but, as I tell her, "yeah, you have to direct your own life." Because time is valuable, and your life is your own.
Madison is Catholic, which intrigues me. I haven't known very many Catholics. She tells me a little about her sister, who seems to be a nun. She apologizes, because her sister doesn't like America. "Not Americans, but America." I say that I'd like to meet her sister, we could probably get along. I don't like America that much, either.
Madison seems surprised, but says that she thought that might be the case. She talks about other American friends, who feel the urge to apologize to internationals. She seems to approve of the fact that I don't. "You're sensitive enough, you know enough. You don't need to, it's not you doing those things." I agree, wondering if her assessment is accurate. Do I know enough?
She asks about my plans. I begin to tell her the reasons behind my plans, my time in Africa. She asks where I've been. Since the beginning. It's not that long a list, but we wander through it. Botswana, back to the US, three days in London ("It was gray, haha."), Thailand. I talk about my disappointment, my excitement in Bangkok. I explain my plans to teach everywhere. She agrees that it's a good idea for me to visit Korea and Japan.
And it goes on.

Talking with Madison is exciting, intriguing... even thrilling. In some ways we are quite similar. I didn't know this. When she explains how she is interested in everyone, but specifically seeks out morally minded people to develop closer friendships, I remark on this similarity. She says that she's always felt like we were similar, since we met last year.
I didn't know that. But Madison waves that aside. "I didn't talk much in class, so you couldn't know me." Hmm. I was rather aware of her in that class, but didn't know her. She has a lot of presence, and I could feel her watching everyone. I talked a lot in that class, so she had some opportunity to develop an opinion about me. I am flattered, but at a bit of a disadvantage in that regard. But I look forward to knowing her better.
It is more than our similarities in outlook, in how intensely interested in people we both are, and in how carefully we deal with those people, it is more than this that excites and intrigues me. It feels almost dangerous, conversation with her; she has such a strong personality, very distinctively her own person, but she is so deliberate, so careful in how she expresses herself. She doesn't dominate the conversation, but clearly holds her own. In everything she says, I can hear the echoes of careful thought. I am intensely aware of an active, perceptive, and purposeful mind working across from me, of the words we use as symbols of our thoughts.
I feel tremendously curious about her. I don't know if we will ultimately match romantically, but I know that it will be thunderously interesting in the attempt to find out.

She is tall and elegant, totally outside my usual type. Born in Korea, she has a moderate accent and has been in the US for some time. (Feel like I ought to know how long...) She is intense and quiet, observing. She says she sometimes talks a lot, I will be surprised. I look forward to that, too. She seems very deliberate; nothing she says has not been carefully considered, but she speaks on many topics. She wears a striking dark red lipstick.

As I drive her home, we talk about our student-poverty, how it limits how often we each go out. I suggest picnics and potlucks. She says that sounds nice. But she keeps making reference to the summer. Are we not to see each other until then? I can't think that.
Just before I drop her off, she says she usually goes out on Saturday or Sunday. A hint?
We hug our goodbyes, and I wait there as she walks up her stairs, waving once.

I drive around in SF, tripping and laughing. In that extended moment, I sometimes feel like the future is irrelevant. Whatever happens there is only there and cannot touch the clarity of tonight's success. And then, again, I want to know, desperately, what comes next. I want it to be next week or the week after that. I want to see her again, I want to have already seen her several times. I want to talk with her entirely freely, in the easy familiarity that we don't yet have.

I want to brag, to gossip and giggle. I've been so entirely quiet about this exciting development. I have told no one of this date aside from family and this journal. So many times I came so close to asking Yunkyoung, "What do you think about Madison?" or telling Yam, "Check it out, I have a date next week!"
But I kept quiet. What if I were wrong? How tiresome that old routine was...
But now I can share. And I am so impatient.
I call Yunkyoung, she asks me, "who? who? who?" I laugh and tell her. She screams, then asks very seriously for the story. So I tell her.
And she has deep reservations, but cannot tell me why. Bah! This is not the response that I wanted! After we talk for some time, Yunkyoung apologizes; she shouldn't have said anything, she should trust my judgement. Hmm. Well, what's done is done, and my triumph remains, only slightly tarnished.
I am only more curious to know more of Madison.

I email Madison the next day, expressing my thanks, my enjoyment, my thoughts on the movie. I've heard nothing back from her, but my thoughts are often occupied with the movement of her hair, the sound of her quiet laugh. When is the next?

skip to the good part

2008-03-29T05:08:07Z

a date?
I'm not sure what's happening.

I think I have a date tomorrow. I've been wrong about this before, so I'm avoiding taking the hardline stance. So, yeah... maybe.
We're going to see a movie. That part's settled. La Misma Luna. Under the Same Moon.
It's probably a date, but I'm never really sure these days.

I hope so.

Despite all this "don't expect too much" and "we'll just see what happens" and "yes, I do feel slightly jaded," I really, really hope that it's actually a date. I really dislike being wrong about that.
I just never get used to it.
How are you supposed to get used to not listening to your stupid hopeful instincts?

Anyway, she seems quite nice. And I... I think she likes me. It seems likely, but... well, see above.
I'm reluctant to say more until tomorrow is past.

So just wish me luck, I guess.

I need lots of luck. I need something, anyway. This semester's been all wrong, ever since I first left for Thailand.
No rhythm, no soul. No motive force. So confused, uncertain. Afraid.
The future is coming for me. I can feel it's breath on my neck. And I don't want to go outside.

But tomorrow I will go out, and I will do my best to be at ease, animated, open and clear, easy and sure of myself. Warm, interesting.
And I'm pretty damn sure that movie is going to make me cry.

sawatdee krap!

2008-01-07T02:58:09Z

So, um, I'm in Bangkok.
Yep. I arrived around midnight last night, local time. It's quite warm.
I'll be in Thailand until the 18th. I'm not sure quite what to expect from this trip, but... things are changing. And this is part of it.

even the thought of it is good

2007-12-05T06:36:30Z

I totally think a cat cafe is like the awesomest idea.

how does this work again

2007-11-25T21:10:49Z

hahah! so I was just saving some data for a research project, navigating my labyrinthine Documents filing structure and I realized something: it's been so long since I posted last that I accidentally saved that last post in my private journal folder instead of my posted blog entries folder.
so either that was seriously freudian, and I didn't actually intend to post that piece or... I've seriously got to start posting more often!

thanksgiving spew

2007-11-23T07:18:34Z

I don't know what to say, or how to say it. Guess I'll say
Things are pretty screwed up right now.
I mean, inside.

It ain't been quite right for a while yet, but... it seems worse to just let it be... now.

Thanksgiving's giving me some trouble. I don't feel thankful.
I wish I could reach out. Wish I could wish you all a happy one.
And it's not that I don't want you to have a happy thanksgiving. (In fact, I do. Want you to, that is. Happy Thanksgiving.)
I just... it's stuck, somehow. Somewhere.
I don't have the strength for wholesome, proper well-wishing. Sounds stupid to me, but it's how it feels. I feel so tight and dried up, all caught up and running from everything. Can't really pull up the sentiment to be the me I've wanted.

And I'm already sick of the complaint in this entry. I don't want to complain about this. Fact is, I'd rather ignore it.
And I have been. But it doesn't really work that well, trying to ignore yourself. I mean, if you aren't talking to you, it makes those long nights awful lonely.
And other people are only temporary relief from the awkward silences between myself. Silence has become habitual. But not comfortable.

And I want to scrap this whole entry, start over. "happy thanksgiving" and nothing.
But there's enough nothing. And giving it away doesn't leave any less.
I'm not sure what to do.

I don't feel like talking about this stuff. It's ugly and petty and boring and needy. (Whatever "this stuff" really is...)
But then I don't feel that much like talking about anything else.
I mean, I want to tell you all about my dinners with Kenji and his family, about how Megumi, his baby, has really been keeping me alive, about some of the experiences as TA (I taught a class for the first time a couple weeks ago), about my plans, my struggles to hold onto those plans, about my upcoming trip to Thailand. Most especially I want to talk about my trip to Thailand.
But I don't really want to talk about how my sister got married two weeks ago, my other sister's getting married in February, my brother's finishing his thesis and applying to fifteen different PhD programs, my other sister is angry, my decaying resolve, the feeling of estrangement in my friendship with Yunkyoung (my fault), the tremendous sickening lethargy that's haunting me.

I have no romance in me.
No interests, no prospects, no sparks. Not even much longing.
Just an aloof appreciation for love songs. I've been enjoying soul and R&B music a lot lately. (Ha! Making up for a lack?)
My faith in romance has escaped.
The extent to which this may be tied to the other landslides in my mind demonstrates a great weakness, I think. (Ha, again! The man thinks he ought to get on well enough without love. The fool!)

I hope writing some of this nonsense out has helped. 'Cause otherwise, it's just embarrassing.

ill-omened?

2007-11-20T08:47:53Z

I was driving through the dark and early evening last week when I found myself singing along to Dave Matthews: "Crash into me."
And I just started laughing.

i want to hold you, i want to kiss, but i ain't got time for that now

2007-10-12T01:34:58Z

so. graduate school is eating me alive. it was all shiny-shiny the first three weeks, all 'look at me, i'm a grad student, i'm awesome. and i can complain about how poor i am and laugh about it, and talk about research like i know what i'm talking about and stuff.' that was pretty exciting business, hey.
but that was before assignments started coming due, and heh, yeah.
"and then you found out it was actually work, and that really bummed you out." well, basically.
i am still really, really enjoying being a TA. i TA a grammar class for unsheltered ESL students. it's like post-ESL, i guess sort of. anyway, i have students! and that is always awesome. i hope (and am kind of banking on) that that will always be awesome for me. so far so good. but i'm supposed to come up with a lesson plan this weekend and teach the class sometime next week or the week after. that's, uh, a little frightening. (and this is right after midterms week, so i'm all zombie now.)
and it looks like the rest of the semester is pretty insane. i really, really need to start doing research for my term papers. or at least select topics, jeez.

also: simin's fiance arrived yesterday from Ethiopia. yeah. yeah, he's here. he's living in our house. he's real. they're getting married in LESS THAN A MONTH. it's all craziness.
and i don't have any time to hang out with him or anything.
and i don't even have a suit for the wedding. i'm going to be in the wedding. and i'm wearing a suit? what's the world coming to...

i think my life and my super-powers are locked in an epic struggle, and i don't know which will win... (who's even supposed to win that one?)

shout out

2007-10-01T04:31:35Z

You know, I never really believed that old saying: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
But I think I might have started missing sleep. It's funny because we've never been very good friends. But lately, I just feel like we need to hang out again. Do some catching up maybe, or even just chill.
We've spent time apart in the past. But this is different. When we were younger, if sleep didn't like come over and visit me, I'd be kinda mad and wouldn't really want to go visit sleep.
But now, even though sleep and I still don't see that much of each other, I just have this feeling... maybe sleep misses me just as much as I miss sleep. And that changes everything.

not feeling the subject

2007-09-26T04:49:32Z

The moon is bright and full of promises tonight. I wonder if any will come true...

Because I'm procrastinating.

2007-09-24T04:10:31Z

Q. What is your salad dressing of choice?
A: Ranch if any.

Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
A: Various pho-houses and taquerias. Yum.

Q. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
A. Athena's Gyros in San Mateo. It's so cute and delicous.

Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
A: 20% is way easier to calculate.

Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
A: Would I have to eat the same thing for every meal for two weeks? If not, I could totally eat El Gran Amigo for lunch for two weeks.

Q. What are your pizza toppings of choice?
A: Pepperoni, ham, mushrooms, pineapple.

Q. What do you like to put on your toast?
A: Butter.

TECHNOLOGY

Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A. Some green landscape. I never see it, cause my browser's always open. So I guess my email is like my wallpaper.

Q. How many televisions are in your house?
A. 2. Maybe 3, I'm not sure.

BIOLOGY

Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
A. Right-handed.

Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A. Plaque.

Q. When was the last time you had a cavity?
A. Don't know.

Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A. Heather's bookshelf was really freaking heavy.

Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
A. Um, no. I'm hardly ever unconscious, actually...

BULL[CRAP]OLOGY

Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A. Why would I?

Q. If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
A. When I was a kid I wanted to change my name to David. I'm really glad that I didn't.

Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
A. I look nice in black. I need more black shirts...

Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
A. By mistake? Probably.

Q. Have you ever saved someone's life?
A. Maybe. I thought I did.

Q. Has someone ever saved yours?
A. Not that I've noticed, but maybe I wasn't paying attention.

DAREOLOGY

Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
A. I don't kiss people for money.

Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
A. Only if I could get a robotic replacement.

Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A. No.

Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
A. No. (Also: How am I naked if I'm wearing a magazine?)

Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
A. If it was really good hot sauce.

Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
A. I lack the words to describe how horrible this idea is.

DUMBOLOGY

Q: What is in your left pocket?
A: Cell phone.

Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
A. I enjoyed it. Good on a more absolute scale? I'm not sure. Probably.

Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A: Carpet and linoleum. Thinking about no carpet when I move.

Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A: Who sits in the shower?

Q: Could you live with roommates?
A: Depends.

Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
A. Only one pair left.

Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A: I went through on a yellow in heavy traffic.

Q: What do you want to be when you grow up?
A: A teacher. But I'm not sure if I'll ever grow up.

Q: Who is number 1 on your top 8
A: Don't know. Don't talk to me about myspace.

LASTOLOGY

Q: Person you talked to?
A. Diep, via email.

Q: Last person who called you?
A. Erin.

Q: Person you hugged?
A: My mom. (Awwww!)

FAVORITOLOGY

Q: Number?
A: 7 for aesthetics. 5 for luck.

Q: Season?
A: Spring.

CURRENTOLOGY

Q: Missing someone?
A: Probably.

Q: Mood?
A: Ugh.

Q: Listening to?
A: Paul Simon, "Outrageous." ("Oh, who's gonna love you when your looks are gone?")

Q: Watching?
A. My computer screen.

Q: Worrying about?
A. Papers I'm supposed to be working on. Job I'm supposed to be looking for. Myself.

RANDOMOLOGY

Q: First place you went this morning?
A: My computer.

Q: What can you not wait to do?
A. Take a date to my favorite Greek restaurant.

Q: What's the last movie you saw?
A: My First Mister.

Q: Do you smile often?
A: Yeah. Everyday, practically.

Q: Are you a friendly person?
A: If I'm with people.

because

2007-09-19T07:29:02Z

You Are A Realistic Romantic

It's easy for you to get swept away by romance...
But you've done a pretty good job keeping perspective.
You're still taken in by love poems and sunsets
You just don't fall for every dreamy pick up line!

Are You Romantic or Realistic?

everyday kind of wonder

2007-09-07T19:24:56Z

I picked up my shoe from a shoe repair shop yesterday. The outer seam was coming loose on the left half of my favorite pair of hiking boots. It actually started coming loose a month or more ago. When school started, I looked up shoe repair places up near the campus and tossed both shoes into the back of the car. They stayed in there for quite a while.
It was difficult to find time to go off to Irving street. I kept leaving the house too late to go before classes, and after class, well... that usually means about nine pm. I don't think most shoe places are open at that time of night. (Heh, "24-hour Emergency Shoe Care!")
I've got the same problem, actually, with my bag. It's about ready to disintegrate, but I haven't found the time to replace it.
Anyway. On Wednesday midday I went up and found parking a couple of blocks from Neighborhood Shoe Repair on 20th. (Incidentally, there seems to be an awful lot of construction, like, everywhere. Seems strange, somehow.) I went in to this small place and gave up my shoe for inspection to an older black man in a work smock with lots of small, interesting-looking tools. I felt kind of nervous, never having been to a shoe-repair place before. (What if it's ridiculous to repair dirty old hiking boots? Maybe people only repair expensive ballroom shoes or something...) I also felt kind of excited to be visiting a cobbler. Sort of mythical.
I stopped by yesterday and got my shoe back. The guy (cobbler!) was rather friendlier than last time. From the first, I felt sort of an instant affection for this man. He's a cobbler and his store is called Neighborhood Shoe Repair. It's like visiting a secret and unpretentious piece of history or something. Difficult to explain. But I visited a cobbler!
It's funny, but even though we completed our transaction and ended our business on good terms, I can't escape this impression that I couldn't understand a single word that man said. Anyway, I'm really glad he fixed my shoe.

kr-chk.

2007-09-05T05:32:33Z

This is an entry in my livejournal.
I'd almost forgotten what it looked like.
I got distracted for quite a while, and after that I felt strange and unfamiliar. This was and is additionally complicated by issues of audience. Who's reading this?
More importantly: Who will read this?
Which lends the most important question of all: Why am I writing this?

And, well, I feel like I don't remember the answer. Or perhaps the answer changed, and I just haven't caught up yet. The most obvious answer should be that I'm writing this for myself. But... has that ever been true? I don't know. I do know that keeping an online journal has not felt like I imagined that it would.
But I don't know if that's all that bad. Perhaps my imaginings were stupid.

One of the troubles, I've discovered, is the preference to tell only complete stories. I don't really like writing so serially. But then, if I wait for the end... when exactly is the end, if this is a true journal? Ominous...
And, of course, and most relevantly right now, if you consider the title of this journal, and the favored topic of this journal... there are certain rather obvious story arcs. But I'm getting awfully tired of telling all these stories with the same ending.
I need some new material.

(Yes, if you read between the lines, I was rejected once more. No, I don't especially feel like talking about it. What is there to say? That's sort of the whole problem I'm walking around and poking a stick at right now.)

the saga continues... at five words per minute...

2007-07-23T03:34:06Z

BART once more into the dirty, exciting, strange heart of San Francisco. Again I am early. (Was that part of my plan? Only sort of...) I wander around, eventually returning to stand in front of Tu Lan, our agreed-upon luncheon-site. Waiting for Diep, I start reading the articles posted in the window; I learn that Julia Child once ate here. How odd.
I am interrupted by a smallish black man standing beside me. He asks if I have eaten here before.
No, I have not. It's really good, man, delicious. You should try the shrimp fried rice. Oh yeah? Yeah, I don't know what they do to it, but it's like yellow, maybe with, uh, uh-- Turmeric? Yeah, turmeric, maybe! Anyway, it's really good. Hey, listen, I'm really starving here, really hungry- could you spare some money for... Ah, sorry, man, I'm a student, I don't really have any money. (Only a half-lie.) Well, okay, but, listen, this place really is really good, so if you have any leftovers, maybe bring 'em out here for me? Well, okay, but I'm pretty hungry and I can't guarantee I'll have any leftovers. Ha, okay. Listen, the shrimp-fried rice, man. Yeah? And, uh, they got, what, sweet and sour fish, that's real good, too. It's just perfect and, ah, man, now I've made myself hungry! Ha, sorry! Alright, man, take care, alright?
Diep has arrived.

We step up, but not into, the restaurant's small entrance. We wait at the end of the clump of people waiting to be seated. The place is tiny, a narrow sliver of space shared between a few tiny two-three-person tables and the busy kitchen alongside. Soon, we shuffle in and perch precariously on the high stools provided for the waiting. I feel surprisingly almost-comfortable as I cling to my bag and peer over at the kitchen. Diep is telling me a bit about the great egg rolls they serve here. "Hey, there they are. You see that guy there?"
"That one?"
"No the other. He's like part-owner, I think. Anyway, he makes the egg rolls." (Imperial rolls, I assume.) "I don't know how he does it, but they're really good. Mine sometimes taste like that, but not often." (Ah, she cooks.)
We're seated and continue our discussion of egg rolls, falling into other topics. I talk a bit about my adoptive Vietnamese relatives, how my aunt Yung would often make spring rolls-- "The fresh ones or fried?" "Yeah, egg rolls." --at family reunions. Delicious. But I recently learned that she doesn't like to cook, so it's kind of tragic, all these years... Man, you know, gotta find that ideal arrangement. What? Oh, you know, somebody who likes to cook and somebody who likes to eat. Can't have one without the other.
She says, who doesn't like to eat? (Ha! Excellent.) Well, I don't understand it, but I've met some people... (It seems she hasn't met these people.)
I ask her about her family, where they're from, how many siblings. She is strangely unforthcoming. She answers, but minimally. (I asked how many siblings she had. She gave me a number and didn't elaborate.) Not encouraging. But, on the other hand, she carefully remembers out loud what pieces I've told her about my family. It's strange, one-sided and neither one thing or the other.
Eventually we (somehow) get to discussing videogames. This seems a more comfortable topic for her. (I am surprisingly uncomfortable discussing videogames 'in public', but can still speak knowledgeably and easily.) She plays WoW (to stay in contact with her younger siblings, awesome). I don't, but know quite a bit about it. As we discuss the announcement of Starcraft 2, and I explain something of the economy of Diablo 2 (why am I talking about this?!), I am embarrassed by how much I know about these things. But she seems interested enough, surprising me and relieving. We talk about online gaming etiquette, the experience of discovering that you've been playing with an 8-year old.
The egg rolls are, in fact, really good. They have that intriguing and rare bumpy-chewy skin; Diep informs me that that is fried rice paper. She said that Tu Lan has great egg rolls, but the rest of the food is only eh. She is right, on both counts.
I follow her directions to the restroom, which proves an adventure in itself. Threading to the very back of the narrow dining space, I stand confused a moment. Turning around, I see the stairwell, tucked out of sight from in front. Treading the dark, red stairs up into relative quiet, I emerge into a smaller dining area, dark and empty but for a man slouched in the corner. He looks at me, looks away. I turn into a small hallway, stepping past a small, well-lit room with a group of men in animated discussion. (Are they playing cards?) The hallway ends where the roof slopes down to head-height. I stand there, a little confused. After a little study, I decide to try out the tiny, tiny closet door. (There aren't any other doors to try.) It's a bathroom!
I return to the table, but soon after, she asks the time and says she should go. We step up to the counter and confuse ourselves with the bill for a bit. That taken care of, we step outside. "So I have some errands to do. What are you going to do now?"
Hmm, yes indeed. But I assume she means right now. "Well, I'm meeting some friends later, but I'm not doing anything right now. I'll walk you... if you don't mind."
She doesn't. We walk on, going into a discussion of the etymology of l33t morphology. She suggests an explanation for "pwned" that has nothing to do with typoes. ("Player-owned"?) I am unconvinced, but interested. She is equally unconvinced regarding my theories about third-person present "pwns" developing into the stem "pwnz". I enjoyed this conversation perhaps more than any previous with her. It was fun, ridiculous and academic and both of us were easy and knowledgeable.
We arrived at an ATM and I stood aside as she did her transaction. The ending-time was looming, and I felt anxious. I should ask her if she realizes that I'm interested in her. But of course she must at least suspect it. But it must still be stated! But there's no time! Stuck in indecision, foolishly trapped in fear and desperation. Ah, well. I'll ask next time, give it a proper space to be answered and understood. But, gah!
She finished and faced me. "So what are you up to?"
"I don't know; I've got a couple of hours to kill."
"What? When are you meeting your friends?"
"We're meeting for dinner at six."
"Why did you plan to meet so much later?" Perhaps she suspects that I might want to spend more time with her. (Oh no!)
"That's when people get off work."
"Oh. Where are you guys meeting?"
"Up there somewhere. On Larkin. Ha, Vietnamese again. But, uh, not soup this time. Sandwiches."
"You're going to Lee's?"
"Uh- yeah." Why am I surprised that she knows that place? Maybe 'cause nobody else seems to...
"I was just there yesterday..." Yeah, that's pretty awesome. "Well, what are you going to do until then?"
"I don't know, wander around."
"Hmmm. Well, let's see..." Diep begins to outline various points of interest. The Asian Art Museum is up that way, they're doing an exhibit on Tezuka right now. (I nod; Kanane had talked about going to see that exhibit.) It's an interactive exhibit, letting people put up their own manga-style drawings. That's kind of interesting. Next Tuesday is the free day, and every Thursday evening it's cheap. "I think it's like $5 after 5:00, and they stay open later." I knew about the free day, but hadn't heard about Thursday evenings. But it's not Thursday. Hmm.
And the library is right over there. "That building?" Yes.
"So what are you going to do?"
"I'll probably go visit the library. I haven't been to the San Francisco libary before." Hm, she seems very concerned that I have something to do with myself. The questions I would like to ask weigh on me.
"Okay. Well, have a good time at Lee's. See you soon?"
"Yeah! Soon. Take it easy, Diep." Diep! Do you want to go out? What are you doing right now? Can I join you? Do you know that I like you?
Did she just say "soon"?

I stood there, biting my lip and watching her walk away. Argh!!!
Just- look away, Danya. Look away. Okay. We'll have to wait.
Did she say "soon"?

I crossed the street with other pedestrians, trying to look for the library. My skull buzzed and my legs quivered. 'Discombobulated,' I thought to myself, trying to distract myself in description.
I found the library; it was indeed right over there. I entered, noticing but not really understanding the big entrance set into a corner, the pale stonework, the impressive size of the building. I wandered through the strangely huge lobby past the security gate. The guard did not stop me.
Wow, this place is pretty big. Diep... I wonder what kind of interesting obscure books... Diep!
Gah! What am I going to do about this?! Where's the directory? Oh, nevermind. Let's just find a place to settle down. I don't need to understand the whole library right now. Don't want to. wanting... what do i want?
A bank of elevators. I follow someone off on the third floor, distracted and confused by the great empty space in the center of the building above the lobby. I curve with the walkway along to the left to find temporary solace in a stack of long tables. Neverminding the glass booths for-- what? studying? --I grab a chair and pull out my book. But I just sit. Trying not to think, trying to think. It doesn't matter; nothing holds together.
Someone was sitting here before me, I notice. A small pile of manga. I might recognize one of the titles, but forgotten in a moment. A stack of Chinese newspapers on the divider in the center of the table. What are you going to do about Diep? I start reading my book.
I mean, seriously, has anything even happened?
Not very eventually, I get up and wander around. I'm in the non-English texts section, coincidentally. At any other time, I might be interested in pulling out that Hebrew dictionary, Chinese grammar-book, or looking for Spanish celebrity magazines. But I don't have the concentration to be so powerfully intrigued as I might be.
I wander further, notice a missed call, connect with Bruna, send my regrets to Grace. Coordinating dinner can get complicated.
Going up, I find a small outdoor courtyard. Still feeling febrile, I try to call Heather to spew and gibber. No answer: not surprising considering the time of day. Still early.
I read my book, hungry for the distraction. Alone in a strange, giant library, I read to avoid thinking.

After a few hours, much nearer the end of my book, I go looking for Lee's sandwiches, where I am to meet the others. Passing curiously through a different set of security gates, I emerge onto the streets and head in the wrong direction. I study my map in some confusion, wander around and eventually get my bearings. I'm not sure how I got so confused; my compass (the small plastic one I carry in my bag) may need to be replaced. Once I understand where I'm going, I start to appreciate the brisk wind and bright sunshine better. I feel nervous and, though I am now certain where I am, still a bit lost. My head is loose, and I worry what might happen in my distracted state.
Still no coherent thoughts on Diep, just a flurry of leaves in the wind. why did she say that? why did she seem so reluctant to discuss that? am i alone in my nervous uncertainty? probably... maybe?
I pass the Asian Art Museum.
She definitely said "soon."

I sight my destination and swing past, still and again very early. Looping around, I feel better knowing my destination. Heading toward the park-like space between the Asian Art Museum and City Hall. Absorbed in myself, I am interrupted by an earnest young black man. He tells me that the Chinese restaurant he's standing in front of has a cheap dinner special and would I buy him dinner. Thinking of the friendly man earlier, I agree. I'm happy to help and food is less controversial than money.
He seems surprised and is quite grateful. I wish him well and he tells me that I should look for him in this area again. We bid each other farewell.
That's two very cordial interactions with young homeless in about 4 hours.
I wish I had asked his name...

I sit in the grass and read for a short bit. The book was nearly at an end.
I returned to Lee's to find Nan inside. An international student from mainland China, strangely innocent and interested in art. Slightly uncomfortable and very sweet. We chatted a bit: her parents are visiting and I had lunch with Diep. Grace arrived. Chinese-American, fairly quiet. I don't yet know her well enough, but she is likable. Yam called; something had gone wrong with directions and she was up on Geary. Yam is Thai, very funny, animated, a little loud and very genuine. Also ridiculously photogenic. I gave her directions from there. She then called me back to keep me on the line; she was nervous about a strange man walking behind her. I went outside to spot her while Nan and Grace talked about Grace's upcoming trip to China. I saw Yam about a block away and waved. We went inside to join the others. Bruna arrived about 15 minutes later. Bruna is Brazilian, candid and easy-going; she speaks easily enthusiastically. I had my English 425 sociolinguistics course with all of them and was very, very happy to see them again.
I told them a little about my encounters with Diep. I had spoken to some of them of her before, at the start of summer. They were excited about the idea of meeting her. We talked about Yam's new boyfriend, Martin; they started dating a week into the summer and were enthusiastically spending all their time together. But the major topic was Bruna's engagement.
I don't know how long she had been dating Joe, but she had spoken of him during the semester and the engagement was no very great surprise. But still very exciting!
Joe arrived a little later and Martin a while after that. This was the first time any of us had met them (aside from Bruna and Yam, respectively), and I got to play the interrogator for the benefit of the group, which was strange and funny. Both of them are extremely relaxed and answered questions easily. Joe is very animated and enthusiastic. The two of them make a very cute, fun couple. I imagine them having many adventures. Martin is easygoing and is very, very good at putting people at ease. Quieter than Joe, he seems a good counter-balance for Yam.
I am interested in seeing more of them.
Chia-Ying was in Union City and Yunkyoung was in Canada, and their absences were remarked-upon. This group of international students became my good friends during the semester. This made the semester both much happier and entertaining, but also quite a bit busier. We studied together and met almost every week for conversation. They're a lively group, and I'm very pleased and grateful to have gotten to know them. I was very happy to see them again.

It was a long day, and I got home after everyone was in bed. I was tired and happy. As I lay down to sleep, I was struck quite forcibly: she certainly did say "soon"! And, following closely: she was very clear and detailed about the museum... I wonder if I should invite her to that.
Agh! Of course! I can't believe it, that was such an obvious hint, and I hardly noticed! Gah!
And sleep was nearly impossible after that. The hint seemed obvious enough that I was idiotic to not notice and immediately follow up, yet subtle enough that I could still be imagining things. And I didn't know how I felt about it. This was a sticking point. How could I pursue her in honesty if I didn't know my own feelings? Yet, how could I decide to like her if I didn't know how she felt? The same, stupid question that has plagued me for years. I thought I had escaped...
I hardly slept at all and literally worried myself sick.

I had decided to call her on Friday, but being sick put a kink in the works. (I really dislike talking on the phone when sick.) I went weak and emailed her about the museum idea. I hate waiting for a response.
I got a response on Saturday: she was already going on Thursday with an old friend. Bah. Oh well. I wrote back, I might go on Tuesday, we can discuss the exhibit next time we get together. (Excellent, very smooth.)
I remained ill and anxious for the next several days. I decided not to go to the exhibit on Tuesday.
That Tuesday morning I got a reply from Diep. Actually, she'd already been to the exhibit once before (that's why she knew so much about it) and also her boyfriend works there.

Yup. Boyfriend.
Violent anti-climax.

And I seriously need to get better at this. I gotta ask that question much, much sooner. "Hi, my name is Danya. Are you single?" Too forward? Gugh.
Getting tired of this same ending... Did you predict this turn of events?

part one.

2007-07-12T17:46:46Z

Stuff been going on and on.
Weekend before last, I flew down to Irvine to visit Michelle for her birthday. (I know, I know, you guys are anxious for news about Diep. Be patient: it's coming.)
So, yeah, kind of a big deal. First time I've ever flown by myself. (Undoubtedly not the last, but, no, I didn't especially enjoy it. But I do expect to do more of it. Got places to go, you know?) First time I've been on a plane in probably more than 10 years. First time I've ever been in Orange County. I was there for two nights, three days. 48 hours.
Which is actually kind of a long time, it turns out. So very, very short. But also, uhf, a lot. I have grown unaccustomed to such large doses of Michelle. So. Very. Concentrated. But I survived. (I think.)
And it was good, actually. Mostly. I mean, I, yeah, I had fun. I enjoyed myself. Not the absolute entire time, because it got tough at points. But, yeah, the majority was all good and actually pretty relaxing. We hung around, we ate, we talked. Not quite like old times, but actually an improvement for that. Felt like people. Remarkably comfortable. It was nice, it was relieving, it was confirming. We've got our limits pretty solid these days, which just makes everything so much easier.
Feels like a however but isn't: the last night I was there, we literally stayed up all night talking. Michelle started talking about her life as it is and the possibilities before her (in her analysis: not so many). That led into her relationships. Where I keep uncomfortable company. And before the night had fled the sun, we had both talked a very great deal. So many things said, that had been unsaid so long. Some revelations, some rather unhappy in my eyes. But many things, an impossible great cloud of suspecteds and confusions, were laid out and down. I can't remember everything. Which, of course, drives me absolutely crazy. ("Damnit! What was that third thing she said might have changed things?")
And, perhaps of coursely, there are some things I might not have said, given the second chance. Nothing absolutely terrible, nothing to break it, her. I hope. But some harsh truths that she may not have needed. Hard to say, always always, what another person needs. But, and here's something gritty, I'm not sure that I even needed to say it. ("It" in the plural sense of truths and truth.) So, what exactly are unnecessary, unneededly harsh truths? They don't sound like something I'd want to own. Ha, that is if I had the choice. Undoubtedly, however, Michelle feels similarly. About the night, if not about those particular truths. She wished (I'm so pleased when she's audible) that she hadn't told me this thing, perhaps she regrets that thing? Her regrets are her own, however.
But, yeah. We lead our own lives, so strangely alien to the other. And I finally could accept that she really is that different. Her life is basically impossible for me to imagine. But, having seen it, I can believe in it. And that is both reassuring and sad. I let go (at last! oh at last!) of many ambitions for our relationship before this, but it seems that choice makes more sense, now. I have to trust that she will be okay (she is versed in minimalist survivalism), but those choices are hers. Have always been. And I must go my own way.
But I was glad to meet her puppy, Hippo. Hope I get pictures from her. I'll show him off. And I was happy to see her workplace, to watch her explain what she did with such energy and light. There are good, satisfying things in her life. So I will leave her to them, trust that they guard her against the other things. I'll visit, glad to see her, but I'll be glad to be home after.

Though I wasn't, entirely. I arrived in Oakland on a Monday evening, and my family was kind enough to pick me up. (I got to help two women with their luggage while I waited. Ha-ha, still got it!) But I was rattled and strange, happy to breathe wet air, but exhausted and sick of plane-noise and uncomfortable, as ever, to discuss Michelle with them. Managed, eventually, to communicate enough, I think. Which was also a great relief.

But it was a scant few days to try and get my head straight. Because on the fourth day of my return, I was scheduled to have coffee with Diep. (Ah, you see the threads come together.)
And that made me nervous. To go up there and meet her with my head still rattling so loud of Michelle. Didn't seem quite seemly, and I doubted myself. But I went, as agreed, as I had planned and wanted. (Perhaps I might be a bit more careful with such plans in future.)
And that actually went well enough. It was okay. By what might have been, it was great success. I was human-seeming, and could speak and respond. We both ordered tea, which pleases me foolishly. We talked about school, about the program(s). Which is only expected. And I felt very ignorant. (Why should I know everything when I'm just starting the program? I don't know, but I feel that I should.) I asked about her research. Which I was nervous to do, because it might be a touchy area of frustration. But she answered well, enough self-deprecation but also some careful excitement. I asked about the wedding she had mentioned in her email (her cousin's, or at least her cousin's sister's, which should probably amount to the same thing). Carefully establishing a friendly, not-entirely-academic aspect to our conversation, and, hence, relationship. I told her a bit about my family. ("Yeah, we all live together. My parents? They're there, too. Haha, uh, we all live together.")
Overall, I think it went pretty well. And although I was nervous beforehand, I felt strangely distant all over. I was pleased, but had no trouble maintaining my balance on the sidewalk. On the drive home, I found myself trying to remember pieces of that conversation with Michelle. I think my head was simply too full to react properly. So I could only note, at a remove from myself: well, that was alright, I wonder what next? Like I was tranquilized.
But I had an email waiting for me when I got home. Diep, thanking me for coming out, let her know next time I'm in the area, we'll meet up. Quite distinctly friendly-like. Quite, quite distinctly. It surprised me. Something for me to think about. Something, perhaps, to celebrate after the tranquilizer wore off.

I emailed her back that night, suggesting perhaps lunch next week? And realized I was, once again, waiting for a response. Ack. I hate waiting; I'm not very good at it. I scrabbled around over the weekend, uncertainly trying to arrange an expedition with other friends. (For its own purpose, well enough, but also an excuse to be "in the neighborhood," eh?) Took a little too long to figure that part out: I got another email from her, asking for a plan. I let her know that the plan was still developing, but if this plan fell through I could meet up on Friday night. (Yes, I suggested dinner. A little forward, not quite as casual as I would like, but little choice in the moment.) Scrabbled some more, got dinner with friends settled for Wednesday. Emailed Diep again, offering lunch earlier in the week as alternative to the dinner on Friday, let her choose. (Making her make most of the choices, I know. Can be bad. I should watch that.)
She opted for lunch. (Relief and disappointment. Foolish.) She had suggested a small Vietnamese place she knows; I seconded, so we went.
Gotta unclog the filters.

the test is next week, gotta study up

2007-06-16T18:36:19Z

Dieply [dee-ep-lee] (IPA: /di.'ep.li/)

adjective
1. in an emotionally excited and confused state induced by exposure to Diep or images of Diep; characterized by an uncomfortably dense column of butterflies located between the solar plexus and the esophagus, an elevated pulse-rate, light-headedness, intense distraction, aimless excitement, and strong feelings of uncertainty; this response is especially noticeable in Danya. "I went over to Heather's last week, and I took her to the linguistics page to show her pictures of Diep, which I had never looked at before, and afterwards I felt all... Dieply."

noun
1. the intense and unclear emotional state (described above) induced in Danya by Diep or images of Diep. "I've been writing this entry with all this Dieply building up; I gotta go outside or something."

adverb
1. in a distracted and awkward manner indicative of the emotional state (described above) induced in Danya by Diep or images of Diep. "I'm supposed to have coffee with her next week, and I want to at least pretend to be sort of relaxed; I want to avoid acting too Dieply... but I'm not sure how to balance properly-- I think I might have seemed a little standoffish during this semester, trying to avoid sounding Dieply."

Diep [dee-ep] (IPA: /di.'ep/)

noun
1. a graduate student in linguistics at Danya's university. "I really like linguistics, and if I wasn't so absolutely fired up to teach English, I would be pursuing linguistics... so partly I'm interested in knowing Diep simply because of that shared interest."
2. a leading member of the linguistics student association on campus. "I donated cookies to the linguistics association for a bake sale last fall, and that's how I first met Diep: she was the contact person organizing the bake sale and accepted my donation... which she later confirmed were delicious. I don't know if she remembers that."
3. an intelligent, ambitious woman that Danya's finds intensely attractive but also intimidating. "When I see Diep, I get this very strong feeling, and I'm not sure what it is... but I think I like her."
4. an auditing member of Danya's History of English class during this last semester. "Diep joined my group several times during the semester for the little in-class exercises, but, because she was auditing, she wasn't in class everyday, so I never really got a good chance to get used to her."

something lost...

2007-05-23T05:19:13Z

This video made me cry. Twice.
Maybe I'm a little brittle at the moment, and maybe I'm kind of a dork, or maybe I just miss Jim Henson. Maybe all three, in some proportion I won't say.