Later that night...

Man, this is pathetic, how seldom I post in this blog. I realized today that it's already August, so I've got three months showing over there on the right, and I've got what, like 10 posts? Including that one I did earlier today, half of which was Bob Dylan. I figured out this afternoon that Bob Dylan, the way he writes, reminds me of Bereket. It's like, there's so much going on inside those brains, most of which is both hyper smart and really fucking weird.

Also, I've talked to Priscilla a couple times in the past few days, and I like her because our conversations are complete non-sequiturs. I always like people like that, because I think in non-sequiturs, so it makes me comfortable in a conversation when I don't feel like I have to try and make sense. Like, one minute I'm thinking about a food, like turkey sausage, and the next minute I'm thinking about how I want to start going to church more often.

Man, my paragraphs are always the same length. That's weird. The funniest thing happened in class on Friday. So the students are writing an essay on their favorite poem or song, so we took them up to the computer lab to find poems and lyrics online. They had to fill out a chart with a bunch of possible songs/poems, with the title and author/artist and a few words describing why they like it. So J.J., this kid who's incredibly smart and creative but also kind of introverted and troubled, and who has a really tough time finishing his work in class, he actually filled out the entire sheet. And I was like, "Wow, good work, J.J." He was one of only four students that filled in the whole chart. Then on Monday I was looking over his song choices, and it was stuff like "Hit Me Baby One More Time" and "The Reading Rainbow Song," and, my personal favorite, the theme song from "Bananas in Pajamas." And, mind you, J.J. is this very socially-conscious black kid originally from Memphis who's always mumbling hip hop lyrics under his breath. Anyway, I had a good feeling he was fucking with me, which was awesome. I thought it was hilarious. Today I called him on it, I was like, "So, you're a big fan of Bananas in Pajamas?" and he actually cracked a smile and was like, "Nah, I was just messin' around."

I always have something I really want to write about in my blog, but then I end up just talking about something completely different, letting my mind take me where it wants. I wanted to write about my mom coming to visit this past week and that breakdown she almost had Tuesday night. I was getting pissed off at her for coming all the way out to Boston and then spending her time doing chores around Adam and my apartment. It really hurt her. I have such a hard time getting along with my mom. I just feel like I can never really relate to her as a real person, you know? Every interaction I have with her, it still feels very mother-child, like I'm still 10 years old. The thing is, I used to be super close with my mom, back when I was a kid and my dad was so scary. I used to literally worry myself sick about my mom. Like, whenever she was late coming home from work, I used to go in the bathroom and lock the door and stand in the corner pushing my fists against my eyes and trying to slow my breathing. Sometimes I would get migraine headaches. Then over time things changed and I started to get distant from my mom, and I think she really felt the pendulum swing. I think she's always trying to believe that we still have the relationship we had when I was a kid.

I wanted to write about Masha coming to visit. I felt bad because she was the last in a string of visitors I've had over the past few weeks, and I get really claustrophobic when I have visitors in general. So, excited as I was to see Masha, I was also starting to freak out about all of these people staying with me (Stefanie, my mom). But then I saw Masha Friday night, and it was so awesome to see her. It was like, so great to see a good friend from Stanford, like it affirmed that I actually exist, that last year actually happened. We drunk dialed Albert, which was probably embarassing because I was very drunk in a way that I'm not normally drunk. I was sloppy and tired. Albert said he was drunk, too, but I think he just wanted to make me feel better. I didn't get to see Masha as much as I wanted, which kind of annoyed me--she was spending a lot of time with Carter, the guy who I disagree with about everything. I mean, not that I don't like the guy. In fact, I really like him. But it's like he's my inverse in the universe or something. Like, we could be talking about anything, the most mundane thing, like some song or something, and if he likes it I'll hate it, or vice versa. I saw him on Sunday night and within a few minutes we were talking about the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie, which we entirely disagreed about. I guess it lets me know he's honest. Anyway, the best part of Masha's stay was after I left the bar she was at Sunday night, she walked me to the corner and we had this totally silly conversation about who we would have made out with at Theta Chi. For guys we both agreed on either Rusty or Albert, and for girls Masha said Abby and I said Sevgi. I also realized out loud that if I could make out with any person in the world it would be Johnny Depp.

I wanted to write about Stefanie and how awesome our phone conversations have been recently. It's like she's a different person from the first half of the summer. I think her trip out here and to San Diego helped her relax. The conversations we've had over the past week or so reminded how funny and weird she is, which is why I love her. Like, she went into this speech about how she always gives people handmade soap as a gift, even though she realizes it's a terrible gift for most people. She does it because she personally likes getting soap as a present. I have to say, I'd be intrigued if someone gave me handmade soap. Stef got to Virginia today with her mom and sister. I hope they're not driving her nuts. I tried calling, but I think her phone is disconnected or something. It's funny, Stefanie is the one person I'm always thinking about reading this blog, even though other people do, too. So any time I'm writing about her I have to keep checking myself to make sure I'm writing what I wanted to write about and not something for her to read. Not that I don't say what I mean to her when we talk or write, but I leave out a lot of stuff that I don't think she'd care about. Ha ha, so I guess that makes this blog essentially a collection of stuff Stefanie Kim doesn't care about. But she's one of its most dedicated readers.

I want to write about Yin, every day. That's an entire post to itself, one that I'll need a lot of time to write. I miss her. It's so hard. I want to be close to her, but I've hurt her so badly. When we hug it's different than anything. Her love and friendship is unwavering and I don't know how I deserve it. She exposes all of my faults and inconsistencies and guilty, hidden things and loves me more for them. I betray her over and over again. I was talking with Rick the other night and he said something that I thought was very beautiful and true. He said that affection is a very simple thing, and when someone makes your affection complicated, that's a problem. I do that for Yin. I sometimes think I'm like the first verse of that song "Revelator" by Gillian Welch:

Darling remember
When you come to me
That I'm the pretender
And not what I'm supposed to be
But who could know if I'm a traitor?
Time's the revelator

I miss her so much. I need to get my shit together. Why is this so hard? Like I said, another post.

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I was reading over this post before posting, and in the paragraph about Stefanie I like the phrase "terrible gift." It's funny. It can mean two things. Handmade soap is a terrible gift. Spiderman's terrible gift is his super power. It's very melodramatic. I have a terrible gift for writing.

Bed time. Goodnight.