Wednesday, April 09, 2014

Empty Ethnicity

It's strange how much I rely on outside sources to understand and construct my own identity. This, however, is difficult for a person with a very faint sense of a "primary source," as it could be called; I don't have a hometown, a home state, an ethnic group or larger culture to which I belong. I'm constantly envious of Latinas and Creoles and people from the West Indies, or anyone with a strong sense of familial and cultural history. As a person who really processes things through aesthetics and narratives, I don't have much to identify with except "weird looking white girl" (which I've really tried to embrace, truth be told, but it just isn't enough).

I'm not sure what I should look like. I have met a very small number of other people who look like me in a way I can appreciate - a thick-browed, round-faced, dark-haired girl in high school who was also Hungarian, a handful of vaguely Eastern European people who understand that body hair struggle. It's often an afterthought, and never have I encountered someone who shares an ethnic lineage with me that considers it an enormous part of their own identity. There is no real instant camaraderie with people who are similar mutts. I don't even have a source in America: I can't identify as "midwestern" or "Californian" wholly, because neither do my upbringing or temperament justice. No one can place my accent until I've explained my migration patterns. In New York, people constantly ask "where are you from?" and I can never give a straight forward or, perhaps more importantly, proud answer. It always starts off with "lots of places," and moves backward from where I am now, but whether the asker responds with "you seemed Californian," "I can tell you're from the midwest," or "did you grow up speaking Hungarian?" I am unsatisfied and feel I've led them on.

A few years ago I stayed up all night looking through online art museum archives to see if I could find a historical portrait that looked like me. Nothing came close, despite the fact that I'm one of those soft-bodied, full-faced girls that are told, almost certainly as a euphemism, that I look like someone from a classical portrait. But what kind? Where am I supposed to look to find an animal with whom I can physically identify? Do I have a culture? Am I doomed to subscribe to the popular Caucasian cultural tropes, just keep buying cheap shit at Forever 21 and regurgitating images on Pinterest and wishing it was okay to just pretend to be Latina, just look at all my neighbors and wonder if they'd ever let me join their families, leech off a part of their very real identities to fill this blankness in my own?

Is this why there are so many white Juggalos?

Monday, January 06, 2014

A new grubby year

I suppose I never wrote a follow-up to my October 1st entry. My year in review. It's been insane. I'm currently prepping to move to a new apartment in Ridgewood, Queens, in nine days. I never much subscribe to the whole new-year-new-life thing, but so much is changing this month that I guess I can't avoid it happening.

I've been dating someone for the last six months, became very close to them (perhaps too close) and then became, to say the least, cuckolded. Shakily rebuilding from that, posting too-personal things on a public forum (this blog was actually private for the last year, but I've decided that fuck it - I'm making it accessible again). It's very difficult rebuilding from a relationship where you developed a deep personal lexicon, to the point real words were almost evenly offset by the made-up ones you two have created over the months. I've realized that this person was very important to me, that I loved them very much, and I'm thankful for that - however, they were also highly manipulative, self-absorbed to the point of narcissism, and inspired in me a nurse/mommy-mentality that always put my needs on a shelf so far back that they were hardly addressed. How does one bounce back from that? After six months of changing his or her thought patterns and becoming the most welcoming doormat, then having the trust and honesty he or she gave too freely shat upon, I guess all one can do is move to a new apartment in Queens and buy in to month-long creative challenges and wash all his or her dishes and buy a membership to a 24-hour gym where he or she can run all their frustrations out on a treadmill while watching Jeopardy.

It's blizzarding. All my shoes are traction-less. We're in a "winter vortex" here in New York. The snow and wind come, it lets up enough to let you see some sidewalks move from ice to black slush, and then it comes back with the wind, the rain, the snow. I had a dream that I walked around with a giant cane to keep myself from falling on the ice. I'm pretty sure I beat people with it as well, though, but I'm not sure what the context of said beatings was. Guess that's where I'm at now, having dreams of beating people with large metal canes.

Tuesday, October 01, 2013

A year in review

I'm not sure why I didn't write anything during my first year in New York. Perhaps maintaining a personal blog seemed too juvenile to me? It seems counter-intuitive to keep yourself attached to a habit and log you started when you were much younger and had fewer inhibitions/didn't give a fuck how dramatic you came off. Though it seems self-indulgent, I guess I would have liked to be able to read back over how I felt at various times this last year. Even though it's still pretty fresh, times like January seem so far away. I feel like I'm living in a totally different city than I was when working at a soul-crushing bookstore in a neighborhood I hated, living in an apartment where I never felt at home, with few real friends to speak of. Now, working as a nanny in a neighborhood I could take or leave, living in an apartment only two floors above my last one, and with my core group of people reinstated from previous cities, it feels much better. Sure, I'm panicking because I have no idea how I'm going to come up with rent this week, but I feel like I'm taking steps.

I'm very sick. The entire right side of my head is a disaster. I can hardly swallow. I fall into the worst-sounding coughs whenever I try to laugh a little. I'm dating someone who I like very much, but who is going through things that we both know I shouldn't have to take responsibility for. I have the feeling that he is looking for a good time to end things, and though that makes me sad, I am trying to understand and prepare for it. I'll write more about my first NY year later, when I'm channeling a better voice than my 16 year old homeschooler one here.

Monday, February 13, 2012

My time in Koreatown; my time in LA

I'm trying so hard to look forward and get an idea of how it will feel to look back at this time in my life. I guess being in LA hasn't really been being in LA until I moved to Koreatown, into an apartment alone. I've been told that you don't really live in a city until after you're done with school, but school has become such a small formality in my life (except, you know, that it eats all my time. I'm only writing this because I'm in midterms). The majority of my friends have been long-graduated, and I live in a neighborhood because I choose to live there, not because it's close to school (it kind of isn't, though I'm not complaining).

There are a dozen reasons why I connect so strongly with the Drive soundtrack, one being that it is set in (or near, depending on your particular preference) my neighborhood. I was going through some pointed times when I saw that movie, and immediately following it, and had some relative change of self in all of that. I talk a lot about changing, being more creative, being more independent, and all that. It's really weird - it actually happened. When I wanted to stop thinking about boys in general, my friend Taya told me to put my energies into creative outlets, and it happened. I'm actively working towards my future. It's bizarre. I'm being a creative go-getter.

Now, I suppose, it's time for me to apply that spirit to my last stab at school. That is, until I apply for grad schools next year. Yech.

Friday, January 06, 2012

Man's Man Pt 2

I almost forgot - I have continued my quest to become a Man's Man. Over the last two months, I have shot many a gun (including a Tommy gun!), eaten many a rib, gotten many a bruise and even wore pants a few times (see picture!). I went hiking and climbing in the snowy mountains by myself (where I identified and avoided a badger hole), must have smoked 1,000 cigarettes, and rolled a few perfect joints.

In the interest of being a self-created woman, I'm starting to sew my own clothes again. I know this isn't really a Man's Man activity, but I figure if you really want something, make it. My new years' resolution is to never pine and lust after things I can make and get for free. I guess this applies to all things in my life. It's all for the taking and the making, I guess.

Hey hey

I have reached the end of the internet, so I came back to the place where it all started: my blog. Actually, it all started on tripod, and ends somewhere on tumblr, but I'll take this middle ground.

I feel like putting any real updates on my life would be incriminating, which is a little disappointing, because it could be a really entertaining outlet. Just know this: I have gone boy crazy, got burnt out, and am now exhausted and possibly a bit hopeless. I am so sick of small talk and telling the same two stories over and over again (murder attempts and murder threats - that's all I have), I'm sick of going to awkward drinks with strangers multiple nights out of the week. What happened to one night stands? What happened to meeting people organically? Why is that even a term that needs to be used in relation to dating? That's what I get for signing up with okc. I should probably delete my account again and approach strangers more often. I just need a pick up line. Usually I just walk up to people and ask if they have any good stories, which leads to me telling my two stories, which brings me back to small talk square one.


I would love to chronicle my dating life on here, but I can't bring myself to be that insensitive. That, and if you google my name, this blog comes up. So to potential or past boys, ignore this post. Or, rather, to potential boys, the ball is in your court. I'm taking a vacation.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Brooms and phones

Yesterday I went on a mission to find the least nasty dollar store. I went to about three, stopped at their front doors, and bolted back to my car. I finally ended up at the 99 cents only store on La Brea that I vaguely remembered being bearable for humans, and decided to stick it out for my own poor, poor health and sanity (I needed some chips and some cooking tongs, STAT).

 All dollar stores are a terrible labyrinth of stale food and crying children.

I navigated the endless isles of canned peaches and fish, slave-labour shirts and toys, Guadalupe candles, and a bunch of unidentifiable shit that just smelled wrong. I braved it, filled my little basket with $14 of things I'm still uncomfortable around, and went to check out. There I met a lovely gentleman in a NASCAR shirt and too much body hair/odor that was buying a bunch of stuff that looked like a home-napalm kit. I wanted to ask him if that's what he was doing, but he beat me to the small talk by looking at the broom I was buying, and saying "it's like a broom, but smaller."

I just stared at him. It's a broom. It can be a small broom, but that doesn't make it any less of a broom.

He got really nervous because I was straight staring into his eyes and I just paid and left. A vaguely similar thing happened later that day with a secutity guard at this Cosmic Prom I attended, except he called me a little teapot and tried to sing the song because I had lifted my arms over my head. I'm going to carry a bowie knife - the kind with brass knuckles attached.

So I've been very disillusioned (a word, due to some horrible chemical thing in my brain, I mixed up with disenfranchised today) and have been walking around hating everyone in my generation. Oddly, though, I've been in a really good mood these last few days. I guess my bullshit meter just got more sensitive.

And so, to conclude this post, I offer you this picture:

Fuck me. The end.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

I've been at a loss about what I should cook for dinner since being out on my own again, so I've been living off mac n cheese and frozen pizza. I decided to just blindly buy ingredients, and, knowing that I am too poor to not use them, make dinners out of them. So tonight I made braised endives with lemon balm, parmesan garlic bread and feta-stuffed bell peppers. It's delicious, but it isn't really an eye-pleaser, so I've opted out of photos for this one. Trust me, I will have photogenic meals later on. I'm way too into food.

Monday, August 08, 2011

Also, hey - I'm going to stop promising things like pictures or constructed updates. Because if you look back at the history of this blog, all it is is me promising you things and then not delivering and trying to fix that problem with promising you more things. You're in an abusive relationship with me, and while I might not be able to change, I can attempt to be more considerate. Reader, I promise you nothing. Sweet nothing.



Be a Man's Man

You know the kind of people who can kill a bear and bake a cake, both just as well (meaning, very well)? The kind of people who eat meat off bones (as opposed to chicken strips), shoot guns (of all sizes) and drink people under tables. The Hemingways (could he bake a cake?), the men of the land, the man's men. has a decent list if you need more, althought I'm not sure Hemingway would fit with their standard of being likable by all and somewhat considerate. But he was a really great decorator.

Recently I've been trying to do things that will make me more of a man's man. This may seem somewhat out of place, as I am a girl with a chronic disposition towards dresses. This being said, it bothers me that I've ever let this disposition influence my persona, because at the core, I just like wearing dresses because I hate to have pants on. But excuses aside, I've realized that I have let cupcakes, dresses, chicken strips and gunlessness so me an injustice. So here began my quest.

Immediately, I went and ate a shit ton of buffalo wings. Buffalo wings are one of my passions, but somewhere along the line I started to eat them boneless. As a 6 year old I was tearing spicy meat off delicious bones, so it was time to return to the spring from which I came. This, of course, leads to shooting big guns (I'm from Wisconsin), and I will be doing this this week (with pictures!).

I joined roller derby (that is, I joined roller derby classes). When I was in highschool while I worked at Barnes and Noble some customers tried to recruit me. I was too young, and so I kind of let it fall from my mind. A few weeks back I took a really nasty fall while running to class and got a gnarly bruise (see picture). I got up and kept running and bled all over the place, and I was super proud of it. I wore shorts around for days to show it off. I realized that I love being able to roll with the punches, so I joined roller derby, and it's been amazing. I am fucking awful at it, but it's amazing.

Now, this isn't some Oprah Winfrey live-today-like-its-your-last self-challenge; this isn't me stepping out of my comfort zone or looking to discover new passions. I have just stopped giving a fuck about cupcakes, no matter how hard I've tried to keep it up. Don't get me wrong, cupcakes are a great vehicle for experimenting, but you know what else is? Whatever the fuck I want. Because I'm a man's man.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

I need a new blog

Because my adventures in apartment finding have been so crazy, and I should have been documenting them in a new-life blog. But I'm lazy, but I still need to be sharing these things with you, so get ready for an onslaught of furniture posts written at 3 am, followed by a detailed series of posts documenting moving into the place I found after searching for THREE MONTHS. At some point, maybe some back story discussing that. But for now, a link to this craigslist post that actually made blood rush to my face:

I KNOW, I JUST WANT TO RE-COVER THEM TOO. I have been killing myself over anything Eames-like, and these chairs did not escape the Inquisition with which I have been terrorizing craigslist.

Also worth noting, and probably further documenting, are my spiraling health problems, and why, despite the fact that they're making my life miserable, I still haven't made an appointment to go see the doctor. I just hate waiting on hold. Egh.

Monday, March 07, 2011

Hello! Alright, so updates. I am making dinner. Okay, that's a lie, I just ate dinner, and the happy situation pictured above happened about a week ago.

But, dinner is a really great segue into what's been going on in my life lately. Dinner is a large part of it.
A few weeks ago my dad moved to Saudi Arabia, which leaves my mom and I complete control over what we eat. Not that it's a fair trade off - I would have never traded a dad for steamed broccoli - but it's a small happiness in an otherwise sad situation. I guess I should specify: he left to work an amazing job over there, and when my mom is done with nursing school she'll go meet him. They skype every morning. It's really cute.
So, dinner. We decided that we wanted to get really healthy. I mean REALLY healthy. We have a picture of an ideal plate on our fridge: half vegetables (broccoli! carrots! baby bok choy!), a quarter protein (fish!), and a quarter starch (potatoes! wild rice! noodles!). Actually, I have one of those tiny Japanese erasers that's shaped like a perfectly portioned meal pinned up with it. This is for security, so that if we go blind, we can use the eraser to remind us.

Every morning we (actually just started two days ago, but still) wake up early and go for an up-hill walk/jog into the fancy parts of Bel Air for an hour, and then come home and make these fruit shakes with beets and carrots and, occasionally, protein powder. Honestly, I still haven't been able to fall in love with that part, but supposedly it sucks all the evils from your soul and turns it into goodly attractiveness. When I start seeing that happen, I will love the medicine-grain taste that my mom likes to call "earthy."

My house has been full of bees. This has made me more confident around bees, feel more compassion for them, and be constantly on edge and scared for my life. Mostly they're just scared and lost and I'm just hiding. Maybe one day I will do WWOOF and learn how to keep bees. Then, I can go back in time and relocate the hive to somewhere where they will be happy and free, and no bees will have to die in vain.

I'm pretty sure this isn't it, but I'll try to pace my exciting updates and save material for a few more entries. Lucky you!

Monday, February 28, 2011

Have we grown apart?

When I looked back at the last few months' blogging output, I thought that the scarcity of posts might be a sign that I was ready to leave this livejournal behind, that I was being less self-consumed, less tethered to the internet, less inclined to write about myself to people who I, probably, didn't even want to know that I had a blog. Of all those, only the last seems to be remotely true. Instead of doing something that might seem somewhat investing, I've just been using other internet outlets to feed my boredom vanity beast. Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest. I think I'm wittier in either A.) 140 characters or less, or B.) fewer posts for fear of invading someone's newsfeed.

Now, I understand that you might be confused, hurt, or not understand why I have come back to tell you all this. It's kind of like coming back to my old family to tell them about my new family, and how they make me feel a lot better than my old family ever did, and how my new children actually get good grades and I'm not ashamed of them and my new husband doesn't have some weird thing going on with his face. It's kind of like that, except I thought that maybe I could have both families, regardless of the repercussions. Even though that might mean that my old family doesn't get the attention it once got, and that it might hurt even more to get some shitty links to what I'm doing with my new family. I'm willing to take that risk.

So, hello. I plan on writing a whole lot about nothing, but mostly things like shoes. If I don't spend up all my shoe energy on Pinterest, which I might, because it is much better than my old family.

Friday, November 12, 2010

I NEED A CAMERA! It's on the top of the list of things I want but really, really don't need. It's up there with a Cuisinart Stand Mixer and like three different $400 coats. I already have coats. But you can never have too many coats. My Achilles' heel contains coats, sweaters and sweets. Which is why, I'm sure you know, this is the best season ever. The world is drowning in these things.

Except I'm too poor for coats and sweaters, and what I can afford, sweets, I really shouldn't eat because I'm looking to shed, like... half my body weight. In an ideal world, I would develop the metabolism of a beast and replace whatever heating system my body has got going on with infinite coats. And I would eat peppermint bark for breakfast. And a stork would drop a DSLR at my doorstep, and I would move out of my parents' living room, and I would be graduated with major and minor in tow, and I would move to a city that was actually exciting on foot.

Sorry if this has turned into ComplainBlog. I'll follow up with some amazing pictures of the installation we just finished, and the art we've curated... with my cell phone camera.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

Hi internet.

This blog goes through many personality changes, but always comes back to this. Me conversing with you, the faceless friendly ether. There have been a few posts (see last one) where I try to offer up something objectively interesting - or, rather, less personal than my own going-ons. But you know what? I'm going to write about my going-ons. I'm going to write about them FURIOUSLY. Because nothing is more interesting to me, as a forgetful and rarely self-congratulatory reader/writer, than going back and reading about my daily going-ons from many many years ago. That's right. What I'm trying to say is that I went back and read my old livejournal. And downloaded all my facebook wall posts. Did you know you could do that? It's a touch less magical than the real thing, but it's still pretty amazing to see how charming and well-loved I've been my entire life. See, I'm kidding, but I'm kind of not. I should give 15 year old Ashi a little bit of credit. I would have been friends with her.

In a perfect world, I would have a decent, working camera (even a cellphone camera that didn't get an image about as clear as metallic cellophane), or a scanner, or a way to upload my real life experiences in a really cute and fun way, but the reality of it is that I am living on my parents' couch and the majority of my belongings are buried deep, deep within their one-car garage. It's actually pretty spectacularily inconvenient. I wanted a spool of white thread today, but I remembered that my box of thread is about five feet into the garage, which is a completely unreachable space. It's like a compressed cube of space debris in there. I know that I'm going to have to brave it in the next few days so that I can get some prints out, but I've been putting it off like nothing else. Actually, that's not true, I've been putting other things off a lot more passionately. I am a passionate procrastinator, and a dedicated liar. These are my strong suits.

However! In the realm of proactivity (who would have thought I would have been capable of such a thing?) I've got some solid things goin' on. I'm interning at a really amazing non-prof art space that I will not name for fear that it will come up in Google searches, and that has been very amazing. Such solid people, lots of microscopy, building and disassembling a sunken ship, pie and champagne, bacon-themed evening. I'm organizing a two-week exhibition/space on campus that goes up Wednesday as part of a collective my friend, Julie, and I founded. We're in the process of installing this giant system of tulle heart valve concave pod things, and next week we're opening again with complimenting art. That sounds like I'm discounting the art - AWESOME ART! I would hope so, I've got at least one piece going up in it. After that, Julie is curating and organizing a show at the space she's interning at, which will also include some of my stuff (prints). And after that... well, then I have a month off from studies and just get to make mad bank and visit the people I miss in northern California.

Also, next week is my birthday.

That covers the basics of what is going on right now, I guess! Check back soon for exciting updates, like my new class schedule, and if it looks like I'll ever leave my parents' couch.

Monday, September 20, 2010

My living situation is just about as exciting as a mall shooting. I mean, I have no idea what's going to happen next, the whole thing fills me with dread, but I could walk away happy and healthy and appreciating everything much, much more.

But it's more likely that I'll be sleeping on a blow-up mattress on my parents' living room/dining room/kitchen floor for the next few months. That's right - they've moved into a 'My First Apartment' sort of place, with one 'common room' and one bedroom with mini bath attached. And they have two dogs and a cat that I'm allergic to - and the littlest dog, my favorite, has mange. Endearingly, this doesn't stop her from wanting to cuddle and to lay on all of my things (she plopped down on all my toiletries the other day; I can't imagine make up remover and a wire brush are all that cozy). Couple this with the fact that my mom is in the throes of a wildly demanding nursing program, and it makes for a happy household. So... happy.

Because we fit so snugly into the dark, jagged cracks of the financial aid system, I'm left in a place where I can't get the loans I need to pay for anything - even books - and my parents can't afford to help me at all either. I'm hoping for some EDD godsend to come through, and possibly land me in a snug little room in the center of the northern part of Los Angeles. I'm thinking the tree-lined streets in this pocket of West Hollywood - exactly 30 minutes by bus to both UCLA and Echo Park. I've been spending more time on Craigslist in the last three months than I have eating. This is so fun. I am having so much fun. Oh my god. So... happy.

P.S. Possibly conning Sprint into giving me the HTC Hero for free, which means a fancier camera and the loving embrace of the Android OS. This could mean... more quaint photographs of my adorable lifestyle. You guys have been missing it. It's super cute.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Operation: Get A Bunch Of Hair is still going strong! By this time next year I could be the proud owner of braidable locks. Now to go finish getting ready so that I can cook dinner with some friends in Highland Park. Gero arte!

UPDATE: A year later, I'm still mid-Operation. My hair is not braidable unless in many smaller braids, which is gross, because all I really want is one of those big sweeping mermaid braids. However, I managed a side-ponytail the other day, and I can officially put it in a ponytail without the use of bobby pins. Am I going into too much detail? I'm avoiding a paper that's due in some odd hours (and hasn't been started).

Monday, August 16, 2010

In this last week, I have been in a car accident, my bike wheel was stolen, and there have been 4 large shootings within five blocks of my house (three between the hours of 12pm-2pm). However, my friend and I both got out of the car accident with nothing more than a little glass in our leg, even though the crash was pretty gnarly and the car is just gone. Also, they only took one of my wheels, and not the entire bike. And no one was killed in the shootings, and only two people were actually shot - no uninvolved bystanders.

So I suppose that it is what it is, and that I am grateful that things haven't turned out for the worse - which would have required very little. Here's to being alive and still having 2/3rds of a bike!

Sunday, August 01, 2010

I'm subletting my friend's studio apartment and I have never been happier. There is something amazing about having complete control over your day and your space, carving your own routines out of an entirely untouched block. I can't ignore, though, that a lot of this great feeling must be attributed to the beautiful apartment, the flowers I'm growing, the huge windows that are constantly open (and with no screens!) and the great neighborhood (directly on Sunset Blvd. in Echo Park - during the day all you hear is children, birds, weed whackers, cars, Mexican polka, rustling trees). I have a great view of old apartment buildings and Craftsman homes staggered up the tree-covered hillside, the tops of the downtown skyscrapers peeking out from above them.

Last night a friend and I stayed up late watching Twin Peaks on the big-screen TV that my friend left behind, drinking Tecate with Tapatio, lime and salt, and eating chile-covered mangoes. Today, I think I'm going to go explore on bike, maybe go downtown. This is good. Really good.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Money be damned!

So while this apartment search hasn't given me much in the way of places to live, it has given me a healthy perspective change: I need to start living as cheaply as possible. I don't mean this in a I-won't-buy-as-many-dresses kind of way, but like a "how much of the food I eat can I grow in my bedroom?" way. After spending 24 hours convincing myself I could live in a 7x10ft room with no closet and no room for a desk, I've realized that I really don't need as many of the things that I have. And I realized that I have, shamefully, become something of a hoarder.

Okay, that's most likely a lie (or am I rejecting the first step to recovery?). I have this tendency to keep "materials" that I will "probably need" at a later date. These can be fabrics, clothing, papers, postcards, boxes, glass jars and bottles, rusty kitchenware from the 1930's, pipe cleaners, bird calls, puffy stickers, giant ampersands, pictures of Louis Armstrong, German beer coasters, half-embroidered tea towels, cigar boxes... it goes on. But to be truthful, I like to walk into my room and see my handmade wooden birds from Zimbabwe, or my mason jars full of buttons, or my collection of defunct vintage cameras. Sure, I don't need three sets of salt and pepper shakers... but how do I decide to throw out the black birds that vomit up spices or the Mexican village with a church tower full of salt?


Anyway, if I can't cut down on enough of my worldly possessions, I should at least be thrifty with my consumables. Problem is, the only option I've really encountered is surviving solely off of ramen noodles and water from a Brita with an expired filter. Where have all the vegetable gardens gone? Where are all of the tomatoes, and why don't I know how to bake a decent loaf of bread? If I already eat mostly mac n cheese and soy milk, what black hole is eating the extra two hundred dollars I would expect to have each month? I feel like this is the Great American Question. This is the new Grapes of Wrath. We aspire not to head west and find jobs working in glorious fields of fruit cooled by ocean breezes, but to locate where the fuck those extra two hundred dollars are going. I don't even have cable. Maybe it's the whiskey.

Friday, July 09, 2010

I accidentally dyed my hair black. Also, I made pink lemonade. I hope this picture can communicate both those things.


*I have been writing letters to potential housemates on craigslist for weeks and am now programmed to end every correspondence with "Thanks, Ashi"

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

So, first, I started watching Felicity because I thought "that show seems to represent everything I hate" but I had never seen it. Then, I thought "why am I such a hater? She's fresh-faced and just 19," and so I kept watching it for a lesson in tolerance. And then I kept watching because her best friend was the pink power ranger. Then I kept watching because her love interest is dreamy. Then I kept watching it because they are really adamant about discussing 1998 Macs and how amazing and fast they are and how PCs just rip off the Mac operating system and how they are superghey and also the RA is kind of creepy but now they're d8ing and going to BERLIN? I want to go to Berlin!

And then, next thing I know, I haven't seen daylight in like two days and I chuckle everytime I hear Sarah McLachlan.