Sunday, January 30, 2011

Not that Kind of Girl

[Haha, I found this unfinished post today marked as a draft. I completely forgot I'd even started it & frankly, I have no idea where I meant for this post to end up. I still couldn't help but laugh when I came across it & so I've decided to publish it. Nothing much has changed since I started this post... Enjoy?]

I feel that it will help prove the point I intend to make in this post if I start out by telling you that right now, I'm sitting in my bed--the entire right side of which is covered in books and papers and cue cards from studying for finals--wearing underwear and an old tee shirt, eating frosted mini-wheats straight from the bag.

What I'm trying to say is marriage totally freaks me out.

And also, even though the grocery store is right around the corner, I'm too lazy to get up and put on pants to go buy milk.

And totally freak me out. --> Did you ever see The Shining?

The Way We Were

This will be the shortest post ever, but I just stumbled upon something I think might be big.

Or like time will prove this is good.

Everytime I listen to Barbara Streisand's The Way We Were, I laugh.
It's like break-up prozac.

This might not be same for everyone; I'm pretty sure there are people who have this really significant meaning attached to that song. I don't blame them; it's touching.

But anyway, I highly suggest listening to this song whenever you think about past relationships.
I promise you'll laugh.
--> We'll not promise. But you should do it anyway.

& not because the song's about looking at the positives of past past loves, but just because it's funny.

I don't know, maybe it's only funny to me because I watch so many episodes of Sex & The City  and The Nanny...

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Ballad of the Immigrant Parent

There's a widely held stereo type that Asian parents push their children the hardest.
I'd like to say that probably all immigrant parents push their children the hardest.
For the child of an immigrant, every academic mistake, rest assured, comes with a healthy dose of guilt.
That dose of guilt is usually to the tune of "Do you know how hard I WORKED to get here? You have NO right to fuck up."
Or so. I'm paraphrasing.

My dad immigrated to the United States in the 1970's from Puerto Rico.
Last night, after recounting the horror that was my first semester grades in Law School, my dad gave me that healthy dose of "get your shit together."
If your parents are immigrants or have high expectations, you've probably heard this one too:

I don't know why you don't try harder.
Let me tell you;
My grandfather, he could no read.
My grandmother; she could no read.
My grandfather--he had to teach himself when he was fifty.
He only had second grade education and he had to teach himself to read so he could teach me to read.
You know why he had to teach me to read?
Because my parents could no afford for me to live with them.
So I had to move two blocks away to my grandfather house.
That's how poor we were in Puerto Rico, Lauren.

And your grandmother & grandfather--they no went to college till they were forty.
I could no go to college; that's why I had to join the army.
I no came to United States for me; I came for you.
I came because I no want my kids to stand in line at Salvation Army to get shoes;
I want to be able to buy shoes for my son, my daughter.

& everytime, we're supposed to get better.
My grand parents worked hard to be better than their parents,
and my parents worked hard to be better than them,
I worked hard.
& all so that you could be so much better.
Don't you want your kids to be even better?

My grandfather worked everyday.
Got up everyday at four in the morning and WALKED, he walked to work, Lauren.
& him & my grandmother had to save up money to buy that ONE book to teach them to read so I can learn.
You could no be in law school if they had not suffered and sacrificed for that money just to buy that one book.

If you throw away this opportunity; such a good opportunity--you will have the whole world at your finger tips, you can do whatever you want after this--be whoever you want.
If you throw away this opportunity, Lauren, then all that hard work of my grandfather & grandmother is in vain.
It's wasted because you no appreciate all that was done to get you HERE.

See, I no understand this mentality.
What you gonna do with a Bachelor's degree in English?
You gonna' be bartender? Work in coffee shop?
You too smart, too good for that.
But you lazy. Always no appreciate struggle of my family.

No appreciate opportunity.

When you were little girl; that's when I went to college.
& I was working, and trying to be a husband, and trying to be a dad.
But I went.
And it was HARD.
But I went so you can be whatever you want to be.
I went so you no have to work while in school like I did.
So you no have to join Army to feed yourself & family like I did.
Did you ever have to harvest plantain in the summer? Or cut down sugar cane?
I did.

& I did that so you can go to school;
Such a smart and pretty girl,
So much potential.

You need to see where you are & what you did to get here.
& when I say what you did; I no mean you finish college & take LSAT.
I mean you need to think about your mom & I, and the people we came from.
You need to see ALL THE WORK that got you here.
& you need to remember all the time.

When you think about taking nap & not doing work for school,
you need to think about it.
When you think about going shopping or looking at boys and no have reading done for next class, you need to remember it.
Trust me, make less stupid decisions if you remember all that happened for you to be here.

Wasting opportunities.
I no understand.
& if it gets too hard & you think you want to quit,
you just remember,
your brother had ADD & nobody knew.
He had hard time in school & had no medication for sickness.
No know why he had hard time in school.
But he never said, "it's too hard, I quit."

That's how you need to be.
You need to think about your brother & how disappointed he'd be.
He would have given ANYTHING to be smart like you.
You never have to study, you never have to do anything; just smart.
& now go to law school & no like because it's work.

Wasting smartness.

I no understand.


My dad's accent is actually all that bad, but I felt it helped drive my point across.

& also, that double dose of "get your shit together" sometimes is what I really need.
There's nothing like a healthy dose of guilt and disappointment to make you want to do better.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Obsess Much

A couple of weeks ago, I saw the film, Exit Through the Gift Shop & I was hooked on Banksy.

Then, (while using the guest bathroom at my mom's house-->she keeps all her old issues of Time magazine in there) I stumbled across a small blurb
in Time about the uproar caused by the opening credits The Simpsons' Executives allowed Banksy to design. & I immediately youtubed it & fell deeper in love.

& then yesterday, at a trip to Urban Outfitter, I found a collection of Banksy's works, Wall & Piece, at the book center. & I'm STILL not tired of talking about him.

Every day, on my way home from school, I pass a dumpster.
This dumpster has graffiti writing all over it, but one phrase amongst the scribble-scrabble clutter always catches my attention: Art is not a crime.

Although, I fight with myself sometimes about this: does scribbling your "hood" name on something qualify as art? But I have a lot of respect for actual guerilla artists who go out there and put their messages and beautiful work up onto the walls for everyone to see, for free, in the hopes that it'll make our world better.

There is just so much to love about Banksy; his wit, humor, courage, values, talent,
& also, this poem:

Beyond watching eyes
With sweet and tender kisses
Our souls reached out to each other
In breathless wonder

And when I awoke
From a vast and smiling peace
I found you bathed in morning light
Quietly Studying
All the messages on my phone.

I heavily considered posting an amazon link to purchase the collection for any readers who may be interested, but then I remembered how Banksy disagrees with capitalism & thought it he'd disapprove. So I won't. But it's worth looking into or at the very least, googling.
Or, you can visit his website Here.

All He Ever Dreamt Of

Today, my brother let me tag along with him & his girlfriend while they lunched.
We went to this really great Vietnamese place around the corner.
The name of this place? Pho.
Just Pho.

[pronounced like fa-->rhymes with "uh"; & to think, I took an entire semester of linguistics AND made a B.]

I love making puns. The fact that this place is just named pho prompts me to make all kinds of shameless puns on this place. For example,
"What's the name of this place? Pho' Sho'/ What the Pho/ Pho King Vietnamese?"

Any way, some other useful information before I actually begin this post is that my brother & his lady love have a strange way of communicating; you'll see what I mean.

Scene: having pho at Pho, earlier today.

Girlfriend: Aww, look at that couple over there... I think it's their first date.
Brother: I wonder if she's going to tell him to hit it from the back.
Girlfriend: I did NOT say that. I would never say "hit it from the back."
Brother: But you did.
Me: You two are disgusting.
Brother: Have you ever thought about what your vagina would sound like if it could talk?
Girlfriend: No.
Me: I read the vagina monologues.
Brother (to girlfriend): A cute vagina would be all like, (whispers) "Hey, how are you?" But yours is like, "NIGGA WHAT'S UP?" You have a black man's vagina.
Girlfriend: That...doesn't even make sense.
Me: Yeah, it really doesn't.
---Asian waiter with faux-hawk brings my bubble tea.---
Me: Hey, I just thought of another name for this place: pho hawk. haha. No one else laughed...I thought it was funny.
Girlfriend: It really wasn't. It was stupid.
Me: But like what if all the waiters had faux-hawks?
Girlfriend: Still stupid.
Me: Just like your face.
Girlfriend: Thanks.
Me: Just like your vagina.
Girlfriend: Are you saying my vagina's stupid because it speaks ebonics?
Me: Don't put words in my mouth, wench!
Girlfriend: YOUR vagina's stupid!
Me: Omigosh, PLEASE don't talk about my vagina in front of my brother. You're sick. You need help.
Brother: One of my female students just texted me; she asked if I like chocolate.
Me: So?
Brother: She's Black.
Me: You think she's flirting?
Brother: She bites her lip at me in class.
Me: What are you going to say?
Brother: (texting) I already responded. I said chocolate makes me thirsty.
Me: Good one. (Girlfriend's phone vibrates)
Brother: Who's that? Darjeeling Limited?
Girlfriend: Oh my God, shut up.
Me: Who's Darjeeling Limited?
Brother: He's a guy [girlfriend] went on a date with.
Girlfriend: I never went on a date with him. He's one of the residents at my complex & he asked me out once; I said no.
Brother: You only said no because you knew it was only a matter of time before you got tired of drinking slurpees & free movie rentals.
Me: Is this guy like South Asian or something?
Girlfriend: No, he's American.
Brother: He's American, but his parents flew here on a rug.
Me: I'm not going to lie, that was pretty witty.
Girlfriend: Hey, we need to stop for gas on the way back.
Brother: Call Darjeeling Limited--I'm sure he's got the hook up.

& as the potty mouth chatter continued, I imagined this was Dr. King's dream--two Puerto Ricans & a white girl eating at a Vietnamese restaurant & exchanging politically incorrect statements. I mean, what more could he have asked for?***

***Actually, I'm just joking. I think Dr. King's contributions to this world are limitless & not to be undermined & I'm pretty sure that conversation was ESPECIALLY wrong on MLK day.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Almost Irrelevant

this post is.
(unintentional Yoda speach pattern. But now I'm keeping it because like it I do).
It's almost irrelevant because I'm finsta write about new year's eve & it's already 15 days into the new year.

My New Year's Eve was primarily about zombies.

I spent New Year's Eve with my long time, off again/on again lover, Mr. Flintstone.
We resolved this year to do something great since we spent last year in bed.

-->Which wouldn't have been so bad except we were SLEEPING.
just sleeping.

New Year's 2010 we got dressed, met up with some of Mr. Flintstone's friends, ate some sandwiches, and then at 9pm I looked over & noticed Mr. Flintstone asleep on his friend's couch.
So I took him home.
Climbing into bed, he asked me to set an alarm for midnight.
I accidently set the alarm for 12pm & so the new year came & went without event.

Anyway, so Mr. Flintstone & I decided to go do other stuff this year.
Something I should probably mention is that Mr. Flintstone has been pretty obsessed with playing Call of Duty in zombie mode; like for hours on end a day.
So when he came home from work & he wanted to go to the liquor store, I almost scratched my eyes out when he enthusiastically picked up a bottle of a pre-mixed Bacardi drink named "zombie."

"This is exactly what we need!"
"Is it?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's really going to go with the theme."
"...of what?"
"Oh yeah, Flip's coming over before we head out."

& I knew instantly that meant more CoD.
This was 5. At 6, Flip got there.
By 11, I was sipping raspberry ciroc up against the living room wall, desperately praying to God,
"please, please, PLEASE, please. Heavenly Father, please let Mr. Flintstone realize he can play video games all day tomorrow. I'm begging you."

The Heavens answered my prayers (that or the fact that Flip had to leave & Mr. Flintstone knows I SUCK at video games so definitely would not ask me to play) & we really did go out. THANK GOD.
Of course, my love had already been drinking his zombie mixed drink while he killed zombies online for about 7 hours.
 I noticed on the way home that he wasn't looking so good...

of course he didn't turn into a zombie but he DID spend the rest of the night violently hurling in the bathroom.

Maybe New Year's 2012 will be our year...

Thursday, January 6, 2011

6 days in

So...I haven't been home since a few days before 2011 began & I've got this thing about blogging from computers that aren't mine. I don't like to do it.
It literally makes me anxious like if you had to stay over at friend's house unexpectedly and didn't have any clean underwear and your friend is like, "Oh, you can borrow some of mine."
& you're like, "No, that's weird."
& She's like, "But I just bought a Hanes four pack. Look, you can even pick your favorite color."
& you still feel uncomfortable but then you agree to think about it & while taking a shower at her place, you see a bottle of vagisil feminine wash just casually laying around in there.
& even though they're new, now you're wondering if they've had time to mingle with your friend's other panties. So you're thinking maybe you'll just buy some new underwear, or just keep on the ones you've been wearing, or freeball...
What I'm saying is I don't like it. & I guess I could have skipped the anecdote but it just wouldn't have been the same.

So anyway, that is the reason why six days into the new year, I haven't yet posted.
Unless you count this one.
But I'm not counting this one; this is just a post about posting so it's not even like a real post.
Moving on.

Even though I haven't posted, I have been thinking about what I would post if I could.
So for this post, I'm going to give you guys a list of first sentences to posts I've thought about writing/might still write.
It's a little for you guys so that no one thinks I've forgotten about all those dreams I used to have about writing but mostly for ME so I don't lose these ideas between now & whenever it is I go home.

a.) If 2010 had been a person, I'm not sure I'd go the funeral. Like, the morning of,  I'd be sitting in my room staring at my black dress thinking, "But I didn't even really know him. I just saw him around in the halls and sometimes we said hi... there was that time he lent me a pencil, though..."

b.) "See, that's why you need a book bag with wheels. So your back doesn't hurt. I think I'll pick one up for you on my way home."
"Oh God, mom, that's unnecessary," and by that I really meant, "If anyone ever sees me dragging around a bookbag with wheels, please let that person shoot me in the face."

c.) (possibly not a post to commemorate the new year but a post concept I'm heavily considering:  "Blame it on the dog" or "The fart talk" --the inevitable and uncomfortable conversation all lovers must someday have.)

d.) At 10:45 pm on December 31, 2010, I seriously feared that I would spend the remaining hours of the year watching Mr. Flintstone and his friends play COD Zombies while leaning up against the living room wall drinking raspberry ciroc wondering how it had all come to this...

e.) New Year's Eves Pasts; a look back at new year's eves gone by; or maybe just 2009 & 2010 since nothing particularly interesting happened before then...

& that's all I got. Try to mask your feelings of unimpress-ed-ness...?
Hope you guys had a great new year & next time I'll actually have a REAL post. :)