you serenade, i’ll shoot.
i met a couple berklee students at the Charles today. they asked me what i was taking photos for, and i asked them what they were playing for.
same answer. perfect day for it. pure enjoyment.
bedtime in barcelona, dinner time in boston
today i was asked about my close friends. many of them have personalities like me–which means, wherever in the world we are, we leave. but we always look back.
love you ladies =)
cross reference: http://mypalmsareopen.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-love-these-women.html
moved again
m and i went to hear lee herrick read some of his poetry to the Boston Korean Adoptees Inc. The night ended with discussion about “The Search,” the time when an adoptee returns to their blood-family land and looks to find paperwork, birth parents, any hints of his or her previous life.
we talked about what it meant to return to “native” land, how it was almost twisted that something that should feel familiar was in actuality, utterly unfamiliar.
i’m back and as selfish as ever
i’m back in boston, and as i was walking up the stairs today a woman was tying her shoes at the top. She finished knotting and stood up, and in slow-motion I saw her begin to stumble, face forward, leaning towards the steel staircase.
my first thought was, “this woman is going to DIE and i am going to see it all. PERFECT.”
she caught herself in time and we both laughed as she smiled at me reassuringly and said, “I do that like five times a day.”
even with the idea of someone getting hurt, i think about how it affects me. my heart is so incredibly ugly. i guess some people can call this conviction, but i call it disgust in my humanity.
confession
often when I’m writing a story, I find myself praying, “God, I just want this story to adequately communicate you and to not screw up. Please help me do that.” but what I really mean is, “God, please make this magically finish so that life can be easier for me.”
shake it up/ change is good
Tomorrow night my housemates and I are meeting with my replacement. I don’t need to be there, since, well, I won’t actually be living with her. I wonder what my space will look like under her touch. will she hang photos all over the wall? books in piles and littering shelves and hiding under the bed?
I’m excited for this next change, to get in some fall… maybe even some snow. I’ll be doing work on a college campus, teach a sunday school for one day (i wouldn’t trust me with more than that either), and my cousins, again, will have sprouted 2 more inches.
conspiracy theory.
I am trying to find jeans. across my vast 22 years, i have discovered that petite is the only way to buy jeans for this bod- and even then, some brands “petites” are really just an inch shorter, and not petite enough for me. its ludicrous, but i can handle the fact that brands have different translations in leg-length for “short” or “petite.” what i can’t handle is that EVERY store stocks the short jeans ABOVE MY HEAD. how does that make sense? why are you all doing this? its like eugenics through clothing- we’re against short people, so we won’t let them get to our clothes, so that they’ll go naked and freeze (well, not in florida) and die.
