help stop displacement of newcomer high school (my mom's work)!

Save SF's Newcomer High School !

- Revoke the Superintendent's decision to place Xcell Academy at Newcomer High School as it will displace 1/3 of the existing students and their teachers.
- Involve immigrant parents, students and their teachers in all future decisions effecting Newcomer High School.

Act now by contacting Superintendent Ackerman and letting her know that you and other members of the community find her actions unacceptable.


June 14, 2004

To Concerned Parties:

Twenty-five years ago the district saw the need and made a commitment to create a special program to serve new immigrant high school students. That s why Newcomer High was established.

• Newcomer is a one year transitional program to prepare immigrant students for regular high schools.

• Newcomer has open enrollment to receive immigrant students whenever they arrive. The population of the school grows throughout the semester. For the fall semester, we began with 309 students and ended with 456. In the spring, we began with 424 and ended with 530.

• Students come with little or no English often under educated. Newcomer has ESL and primary language content area classes so that students receive high school content and acquire English as quickly as possible.

• Immigrant students arrive physically, emotionally, socially, and economically stressed. Newcomer, with its understanding adult and peer support, is a safe environment for them to adjust and learn.

• Many community services come to Newcomer to help students adjust: they include Horizons Unlimited, Chinatown Youth Center, Mission Neighborhood Centers, Inc., Charity Cultural Center of Chinatown.

Six weeks ago, XCEL Academy, a charter school, was offered the third floor of the Newcomer High School building. No member of the Newcomer community was consulted. Newcomer High was only informed of this proposal in the second week of May, at which time the administrators of the two schools were told to discuss the accommodations necessary for receiving the other school. In the first meeting with a district official this past Thursday, June 10th, the members of the Union Building Committee of Newcomer High School were informed that this plan is all but imminent. On Friday, Newcomer received a request to begin the merge and open two rooms for the charter school in the coming week.

While we respect XCEL Academy and its mission, we are still extremely concerned that placing another school onto the Newcomer premises may not be in the best interests of the students of either school. More importantly, we fear that the temporary displacement and diversions required to accommodate the other school will lead to the END of the unique services at Newcomer High School.

Consequences of putting XCEL Academy into the Newcomer High School building:

• Newcomer High must give up 8 classrooms to accommodate XCEL Academy. This means that Newcomer will be giving up 40% of its instructional classrooms. As a result, Newcomer can only accommodate a maximum of 375 students rather than the 530 who currently attend.
• Approximately 130-200 new immigrant students for the next school year will have to be sent out to other high schools.
• Newcomer staff and students may be displaced to other schools.
• The education and welfare of new immigrant students are jeopardized despite a suggestion for the district to set up or reinforce existing ELD programs on other campuses to service new immigrant students who would have otherwise attended Newcomer between now and August.

Some points/facts that were never considered:
• Newcomer currently uses 18 of its 20 classrooms. The remaining two are in constant use: one is for
community service groups, tutoring, and student lunchtime creation; the other is a staff workroom.
• The Newcomer School Site Plan provides 20 teachers for the 2004-2005 school year. Losing 8 classrooms will displace teachers and students.
• Immigrant students arrive highly stressed physically, emotionally, socially, and economically;they require a safe and tranquil environment.
• Students arrive with little or no English often undereducated; they require a specialized instructional program.
• The library and technology room are composed of resources specific to the needs of English learners.
• Many of the resources were purchased with LEP funds and cannot be shared.
• The Newcomer cafeteria only holds 250 students and Newcomer already arranges for 2 lunch periods for its students.
• There are only 2 basketball courts for student recreation.
• The two bathrooms are already overcrowded one for the boys and one for the girls.

If anyone has more questions regarding this issue, please contact the Union Building Committee at Newcomer High School at 415-241-7584
---------------------------------------------------------------------

The following is a sample letter that you can adopt to send along your requests and concerns to the superintendent of schools and to the board of education.

Dear Superintendent Ackerman and the Members of the Board of Education:

I have just heard of the disturbing news that the district plans to put XCEL Academy into the Newcomer High School building. I strongly urge the superintendent to reconsider this decision for the following reasons:

• Newcomer High School is an unique, historic, and internationally recognized program that services immigrant English Language Learners.
• Reducing 40% of Newcomer High School s instructional classrooms even for a proposed one year will adversely affect the education and welfare of immigrant high school students.
• The subsequent diversion of staff and resources may irrevocably damage the current program at Newcomer.
• The community, immigrant parents/students, and Newcomer staff should have input in all decisions affecting the future of Newcomer High School.

The minority, immigrant, and English Language Learners in our district are some of the most vulnerable students in need of our greatest support. Therefore, I beg the superintendent and board members to act with the interests of ALL students in mind. Please find a permanent home for XCEL Academy and preserve the current program at Newcomer High School.

Respectfully yours,




Please send concerns to:
The Superintendent of Schools:
aackerm@muse.sfusd.edu (phone) 241-6121

The Board of Education:
dkelly@sfusd.edu, echin@sfusd.edu, hilesh@sfusd.edu, slipson@sfusd.edu, emar@sfusd.edu, msanche@sfusd.edu, jwynns@sfusd.edu

board office, Esther Casco, 241-6493; fax 241-6429

THANK YOU ALL!

The Community of Newcomer High School

man it's crazy how many people read parry shen's blog andangryasianman. our modest little "are you down?" quiz has caught on fire the past few days, and bot, min, and i are enjoying our 15 minutes of apa internet fame (friendster who?).

anyways, last week i thought of one more thing i wanted to add to the "quiz":
28. Your favorite quote is: "Be the change you want to see in the world. -- Ghandi"

feel free to post any more additions you think of. also, i'd just like to say thanks to all those apa student activists across the country who inspired us to write this. you don't know who you are, BUT WE DO. sucka!

thanks rj!

How to make a Lisa

Ingredients: 5 parts competetiveness 3 parts brilliance 5 parts instinct

Method: Blend at a low speed for 30 seconds. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of curiosity

Username:

Personality cocktail
From Go-Quiz.com

I NEED DC HOUSING!
if anyone knows anyone looking for a roommate or subletter for the summer, please let me know. i'm looking for a place from now through the end of july in washington dc.

THE RETURN OF THE BIG 3??



watch out, dc.

great news: i've been accepted to columbia's journalism school for the fall. i don't think it's fully hit me yet that i'm going back to nyc.
ahhhhh!!! wtf?

PDA!!



who's on thefacebook? i know it's elitist, but great for stalking.

from jai's blog:

Post a memory of me in my comments...
It can be anything you want.
Then post this to your journal and see what people remember of you.

i can still smell barbeque in my hair after showering, which of course means it was a good weekend.

steveo unleashed the koreanness on our friends before the rice show with a bbq and hella good spam-kimchee-fried rice. so. fucking. good! (all my spam fans out there MUST try this)

freesia came up with a good theory: all asian am. guys who are from anywhere besides the bay area dance like white guys. the only exception to this are pilipino guys and gays. so true. smiley much?

oh, and re: the "are you down?" quiz below: please do not post on your blog/send to your friends/etc. without putting our names on there. we don't want it to get around the internet and have it be all anonymous. we're fame whores, we know.

i can't believe it's may already. has it really been one year since graduation? good luck to everyone finishing up their last days of college. it's a jungle out there.

Dine for a Change -- Together we can end sexual assault

 Dine at participating restaurants for breakfast, lunch, or dinner (or all three!) on Thursday, May 20th and support San Francisco Women Against Rape, the city’s 30-year-old rape crisis center. Each restaurant will donate a portion of their proceeds to support critical services for survivors of rape and sexual assault. Let’s work together to promote healing and get these restaurants full of conscious people on May 20! Be sure to mention to the restaurant that you’re there to support SFWAR. (All restaurant addresses below).

Aperto Restaurant
1434 18th St@Connecticut
252-1625          

Atlas Café
3049 20th St@Alabama
648-1047          

Aux Delices
2327 Polk St@ Green
928-4977

Bissap Baobab
2323 Mission St@19th
826-9287          

Boogaloos
3296 22nd St@Valencia
824-4088

Charanga        
2351 Mission St@ 20th
282-1813                      

Dolores Park Café
501 Dolores St@ 18th  
621-2936          

Dottie's True Blue Café
522 Jones St@ O'Farrell
885-2767          

Estela's Fresh Sandwiches
250 Fillmore @ Haight
864-1850

Habana Bar y Restaurante
2080 VanNess@ Pacific
441-CUBA

Jakarta           
615 Balboa St@ 7th
387-5225          

Jays Cheese Steak    
3285 21st St@Valencia
285-5200                      

Little Baobab 
3388 19th St@Mission
643-3558          

Magnolia Pub Brewery
1398 Haight St @ Masonic
864-7468          

Mariachi's Taqueria  
508 Valencia St@ 16th
621-4358          

Metro Caffe
247 Fillmore St@ Haight
621-9536

Notes from the Underground Café   
2399 VanNess @ Green
775-7638                      

Papalote         
3409 24th St@Valencia
970-8815          

Pho Phu Quoc
1816 Irving St@19th Ave
661-8869          

Rosamunde's
545 Haight St@ Steiner
437-6851

Tallula
4230 18th St@ Collingwood
437-6722

Tita's Hale 'Aina        
3870 17th St@ Noe
626-2477

At SFWAR, we believe that no single individual, organization, foundation, or business alone can stop the epidemic of sexual assault, but by responding as a whole community, we each bring our piece of the solution. Please join us on Thursday, May 20th and Dine for a Change.

Need a Recommendation?
Having a meeting? Do it at a café(Metro Caffe, Dolores Park Cafe, Notes from the Underground, Atlas Cafe). 

Going on a date? Go to a nice restaurant (Tallula, Habana, Charanga, Aperto). 

Need a little fun? Eat at one of these places (Little Baobab, Bissap Baobab, Magnolia Pub and Brewery). 

In a rush? Try some fast food (Jay’s Cheesesteak, Papalote, Estela’s, Mariachi’s). 

Late Breakfast? Relax at these yummy spots (Dottie’s True Blue, Tita’s Hale Aina, Boogaloos, Doloros Park Café)

Catching up with friends? Try something different (Aperto, Aux Delices,Jakarta, Pho Phu Quoc, )

Restaurants by Neighborhood:
Portrero Hill –Aperto Restaurant, Atlas Café
Mission– Bissap Baobab, Boogaloos, Charanga, Dolores Park Café, Jays Cheesesteak, Little Baobab, Mariachi’s, Papalote
Downtown and Tenderloin – Aux Delices, Dottie’s True Blue Café, Notes from the Underground Café
Haight – Estela’s Fresh Sandwiches, Habana Bar y Restaurante, Jakarta, Magnolia Pub and Brewery, Metro Caffe, Rosemunde’s
Castro – Tallula
Noe Valley– Tita’s Hale ‘Aina
Sunset – Pho Phu Quoc

l.a. trip update

steven insisted on bumping "yeah" hella loud and rolling down the windows while driving around. and hella mugging. koreans.

he also insisted on taking like 5000 pictures of k-town signs.

capitol records building

r2d2 and c3po footprints at mann's chinese theatre!!!!! darth vader's were also there, but they were just regular footprints.

i don't really love l.a., but i got some love for the erotic museum....

neat-o mural off of hollywood blvd

Are You Down?
The Code for Being a Young AA/APA/APIA/AAPI Activist

By Minnie Y. ’04, Margot S. ’04, and Lisa W. M. UC Berkeley ’03 (guest writer of UC Berkeley’s Hardboiled).

One point for each question answered in the affirmative.

1. You own a BlackLava t-shirt. (+1 if you have the V. Chin shirt, +2 if you wear it to Asian American events.)
2. You own a spoken word CD.
3. You are or once were a spoken word artist. (+1 If you performed in a skinny scarf and spaghetti strap tank top.)
4. You hate Abercrombie & Fitch and dog on Asian Americans who wear it, even if they bought it pre-boycott.
5. You think Yuri Kochiyama is totally rad!
6. You own an autographed copy of “Better Luck Tomorrow.” (+1 If you were on the street team for BLT.)
7. You have a poster of one or both of the following: 1. Che 2. Malcolm.
8. You HELLA think that San Francisco is the center of the universe and the APA Movement.
9. You dyed your hair bright red at one point.
10. You protest the Euro-centric, hegemonic, patriarchal, heterocentric, capitalist petty bourgeoisie of THE MAN.
11. You are a “brother” or “sister” of the “The People’s Movement.”
12. Instead of saying “goodbye,” you say “peace”.
13. You have a Xanga, are on Friendster, and were a part of Asian Avenue.
14. You write your Friendster testimonials in Spoken Word verse.
15. You AIM name includes the words “Angry” or “Asian” or “Yellow Brown Power.”
16. If you wear glasses, they must be the thick, plastic, black rimmed glasses to show the world how intellectual you really are.
17. You are an APA conference whore.
18. You cried the first time you heard “I Was Born with Two Tongues”. (+1 If you actually cried and not just claimed you cried.)
19. You majored in, minored in, or helped start Asian American Studies at your school.
20. You only listen to hip hop and only really enjoy Talib Kweli or Dead Prez.
21. You have read one, part or all of the following: The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Fast Food Nation, Stupid White Men, or anything by bell hooks.
22. You’re so underground, you’re fucking magma.
23. As you chain smoke, you intellectualize how nicotine is the tool of THE MAN.
24. Every time you watch TV or movies, your Asiandar kicks in. (“Look! Asian woman’s arm in the back! WHAT WHAT!”)
25. You mad dog Asian women with White boyfriends (minus 1 if you've ever had a White boyfriend; minus another 1 if you actually admit you had a White boyfriend, but you swear it was when you were really young and before you became down).
26. You hate on AZN Asians as much as White people, if not more.
27. You hate on Asian fraternities or sororities, but used to go those parties before you were down (minus one if you ever pledged an Asian
sorority, minus two if you were a Little Sis).

If you scored 21 or more:
Congratulations, Poster Child de La Revolución. You’re so down, you’re abajo. After finishing your manifesto and reaping vegetables in your biosphere, we’ll see you at ECAASU 2005, fool. Paz.

11- 20:
Poseur. What’s up, poser? Put down that copy of Audrey and read Asian Americans: The Movement and the Moment already. Practice raising your fist and looking hard in the mirror when no one's looking.

0 – 10:
You’re a tool of THE MAN. Proceed immediately to San Francisco and get a picket sign already.

Minnie Y. ’04 is a part of the Chinese Filipina What?! (CFW) club. Lisa W.M. UC Berkeley ’03 is not only a CFW founder, but she’s also a member. Marg0t S. ’04 tries to be the “C” in CFW.

so i'll be a shadowboxer, baby
it's been a great week. returned from a mentally/emotionally exhausting dc/nyc trip (my third trip in three weeks) with coffee jitters and a case of sleep deprivation bordering on delirium. but i've relished being back in the warm hug of the bay area for the past few days, and we've been eating really well. thursday night we decided to save money and eat in for a change. i made my mom's nationwide famous chow fun--hadn't made it in quite a while, but i aced it. we pigged out and passed out in a greasy, but happy food coma. the next morning i made my specialty, the salmon-green onion scramble over sticky rice. later in the afternoon we knocked back a few pints at the bear's lair, just like old times with anne. they've totally descrated upper sproul, such a shame.

friday night steve made a crab dinner--SO GOOD. we conked out again, woke up around 1:30, and went to thalassa for a last-call vodka tonic and then top dog for a late-night snack. saturday we went with alex to the oyster and beer festival in north beach. it was crazy crowded, but the sun was out, and there were beer and oysters, so all was good. the beer lines were too long, so we got some 24 ouncers at a corner store and sat on a stoop with our seafood and liquor. and, for those wondering, oysters actually are aphrodisiacs. damn, they are. we ended the night with the stoners at a korean restaurant on telegraph (i wimped out and got chicken katsu) followed by manhattan at home.

cd resurrection of the moment: fiona apple, tidal

dupont circle, washington, dc, march 2004


big sur, march 2004

i've decided a blog is basically a surrogate boyfriend, so now that i have a legit SO, i've abandoned my blog. sorry, my faithful readers, updates will be sporadic.

honolulu, march 2003

oh man. the sky opened up to me this morning at 6 a.m. driving into the city. it was creamy yellow and shiny blue and there were no clouds to interfere. the commuting cars streamed quietly into the city via the bay bridge, and i had visions of coffee. such a beautiful sight.

You're France!

Most people think you're snobby, but it's really just that you're better than everyone else.  At least you're more loyal to the real language, the fine arts, and the fine wines than anyone else.  You aren't worth beans in a fight, unless you're really short, but you're so good at other things that it usually doesn't matter.  Some of your finest works were intended to be short-term projects.
Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

roads
in hawaii, i stuck my nose in julian barnes' talking it over, and there's an interesting distinction made in the story, between falling in love and being in love. you see how falling in love is different from "the chase"? i hate it when people say they love "the chase" -- it sounds so vulgar and void of emotion. i feel like the chase delineates the hanging out, the "i'm breezy" phone calls, and the "it's not a date" dates part, the "do you like me?" bit. who could really like prefer that part of it? sure, it's an essential component, but it's also so juvenile, so middle school, like eating animal crackers before your soy sauce soaked tender veal cheeks. falling in love is different from the chase. it's the time of discovery, of "firsts," of having to be near each other all the time, of being perfectly content to lie in bed all day and chat, stuff that slips away after a while, when you settle into the comfortable and somewhat complacent "being in love" phase. the "being in love" phase definitely has its perks, but i think overall i prefer the falling in love part the best out of everything. it only happens once in the relationship and for a finite amount of time, which makes it all the more sweet.

it's a weird feeling, being able to see the end from the beginning. relationships are supposed to be full of promise starting out, but i think there's also a sense of fatality there, an unshakeable feeling that the end (as inconceivable as it seems) will be bloody or at the very least turbulent. there is no modern romance.

---------------------------------
an interesting read: the politics of the lonely crowd

flurry of updates before i'm off to pass out for a minimum two hour nap so i can be sufficiently awake and coherent before getting faded tonight at scott's:
- i'm going to be in dc mar. 25-28 and then nyc mar. 28-30, and would love to meet up with anyone in the vicinity of those areas at those times
-going to see the yyys next tuesday at the fillmore (read the interview and see why karen o is my idol)
-still waiting to hear from one more grad school, but it's a real reach, so it looks like i'll be off to maryland come june
-hawaii pics to come

off to hawaii for a week. be back next wednesday. it's a tough life, i tell you.

a reaction to some soft skin
all of my close friends seem to have sex on the brain, and i love it. nothing makes me happier than hearing (and subsequently retelling) people's sexual misadventures. these include the confusion surrounding omnipresent pads, post-coital crying, signs from god that you shouldn't be having sex, and the standoff over who should be buying the condoms (answer: ALWAYS the guy). i love marvelling at the draughts (two years!!) and the floods (five guys in five months), both of which i heartily commend.

people always seem to be talking about relationships, too: what to do about a guy who doesn't share your political beliefs or your level of emotional detachment, the inability to find the proper time to break up with a boyfriend (answer: after LSATs), how to deal with exes lurking around every corner, and the urban myth (recently discovered to be true) of successfully turning a hookup into a relationship. people spend so much time looking for and endlessly analyzing signs of love or desire, it's crazy.

anyways. keep those stories coming. :)

---------------------------

also, dirty dancing: havana nights: WHO'S COMING WITH?? diego luna is fucking hot.

and, there are really few things sexier than a guy recommending a book to you that he thinks you'll enjoy and loaning you his copy. :D

ok this one's for sam, who i know will probably read this tonight because he's the type of guy to check blogs on a friday night (it's not an insult!):

finally gave in and watched goddamn vanilla sky. i saw abre los ojos (the original version of the film) one random saturday night in england with my flatmates in jenna's room when it was on the bbc or itv or something. abre los ojos gave me fucking chills, and i couldn't sleep a wink that night (ask sam, i think i called him). it was a total mindfuck; it was unexpected, it was visceral, it was about science, and arrogance, and love, and physical beauty, and utter ugliness, and sex, and the completely fabricated line between dreams and reality, and the lengths people will go to in order to blind themselves to things they can't handle or don't want to see. even the title, "open your eyes," has so much more meaning than "vanilla sky."

damn, do i have a bone to pick with cameron crowe -- he has this annoying tendency to simplify everything, to sanitize it, and he throws in all these unnecessary pop culture and music references (which is probably why sam likes him so much; cameron crowe is the nick hornby of film). cameron crowe took the soul out of abre los ojos and replaced it with tom fucking cruise. also, he's really got a thing for conventionally beautiful women -- kate hudson? penelope cruz? he fetishizes them with his camera, and it's just too easy for men to fall in love with them. i dunno, i think his movies aren't very challenging, that's all. it's not a bad movie, i suppose, but it didn't give me chills.

OH MY GOD it's fucking true!!!!!! all the guys i know are "the boy next door"!!

if you are a guy and you took the test in the last post, and you're NOT the boy next door, please leave a comment, so i know the apocalypse isn't near.

on a related note, it seems the girls are, well, girlish: two girls i know are "the priss" and one is "the sonnet." wtf, gender roles?

got this test from corliss:

The Wild Rose
    Colorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose.
    Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling.
    You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective.
    The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone.

"You're never truly single as long as you have yourself."
ALWAYS AVOID: The Bachelor
CONSIDER: The Vapor Trail.

WTF IS THE VAPOR TRAIL!?!?!?

for the koreaphiles (you know who you are, and yes, you should hang your head in shame!)
from an interesting la weekly article on k-town, courtesy of g-lo:

All this talk of movie stars leads the conversation back to American misconceptions about Koreans — this time in Hollywood.

“On TV and in the movies,” says PK, “the order of sexy guys is always white, black, Latin, vibrators, Asian guys. We’re always below the vibrators.”

where's the love, east coast?
so this handy site tracker thing shows me where people are reading my blog from, and every time i check it, i always hold my breath in hopes that it will be 50% west coast and 50% east coast. i guess i like to think my blog has bicoastal appeal or something, or that my east coast friends will represent. alas, it's usually 85% west coast and like 10% east coast, with the other 5% coming from random people searching for things like the "restaurant from seinfeld" or "hemingway + the lost generation" or "sexy resume" (seriously). but lately, the east coast has been coming up, and yesterday we were at 65% west and 25% east. not bad, but where's the love, east coast?!? (god, i'm lame)

well the freak weather has left us, and we're back to foggy windy rain, which is somewhat comforting. i can't decide if i'm a warm weather person or a cold weather person. i used to love love love the sun (who loves the sun? who cares that it makes plants grow?), but i dunno, i think i'm probably more of a cold weather person simply because it's more romantic (ne ho romantic-ahhh), and i like the whole long coats/sweaters/scarfs/long-hair-flying-about-in-the-wind-thing (except i don't have long hair anymore, boo). but you know what the one good thing about warm weather is: miniskirts. ;) are you more of a warm weather or cold weather person? (ok that was pretty lame too)



i saw the dreamers on friday with regan, which was an interesting experience. did anyone else see it? it definitely leaves an impression on you. it's rated nc-17, and there's tons of nudity and explicit sex, but strangely, i was totally turned off after watching it. i was like, ew, is that what it really looks like?!?! the french guy in the film is MAD HOT though, and, as miguel said after seeing the matrix reloaded last year, i wet myself like five times. it's a nice-looking movie, but plotwise it's a little heavy-handed.

listening to: death cab for cutie's transatlanticism on permanent repeat (thanks to the margotbot aka columbia house)
reading: candy by mian mian

oh jake

love is for suckers
about to start my new internship, and today was our first meeting. i'm really really excited about this gig; it's something i've wanted to do for years. i actually interviewed for and was offered this same internship the summer after my sophomore year, but i turned it down to go to new york city. i briefly wondered today how things would have been different if i had taken the internship here instead. briefly. i'm feeling like, after a long break, this is a good step on the right path of what i really want to do in life.

so my first task is to write a "superlist", which is basically a list on any topic i choose, but it has to be comprehensive, so it has to be something where there aren't 10,000 items. if anyone has any good ideas, let me know. it can be about anything in the city.

things have been really relaxing in the city this week -- i didn't have any commitments or deadlines, and the weather has been absolutely beautiful. i've actually been wearing sunglasses out. for you poor frozen east coasters, the weather's been about low 60s here, which means you don't need to wear a jacket until nighttime. absolutely lovely. freesia and i had lunch at this great little patisserie on guerrero and 18th called tartine. the food is so so good, but a little on the pricey side. definitely the place to go for ham and cheese croissants on saturday morning. i miss paris like crazy (and am in desperate need of a shopping spree in london).

well i suppose i should say something about valentine's day. it's not a big holiday for me, just another excuse to drink. my associations with valentine's day and boyfriends are overall pretty negative, save one: way back in seventh grade, my boyfriend at the time gave me a silver necklace with a heart pendant that had an "L" on one side and "Love, Eric" on the back (his family owned a jewelry store). yes, i was a golddigger even then.

but you don't want to hear the good stuff, do you? you want the dirt, of course, you cheeky thing, you. so i will tell you, even though my ex-boyfriends do read this blog. but i do it all for you, my faithful readers: i broke up with one boyfriend the week before valentine's day, and a few years later i got into a horrendous fight with another one to the point where we almost broke up. thinking about the latter today, i had forgotten how bad that fight was--we had fought about something that i can't even remember anymore, but it was so intense that it brought us to the brink of ending the whole thing. instead, we decided to not speak to each other for a few days and to spend some time thinking about it while i went for a weekend break to edinburgh. i remember that before i left i got a very nice valentine's day present from him in the post (the mail). i thought it was a sign that he had gotten over whatever we were arguing about and that things were fine again, but it turned out that he had sent it before we had the fight. that was probably the worst fight we had in our entire relationship. oh l'amour.

within you without you
there's this scene that always haunts me from annie hall: annie and alvy are about to sleep together, except she wants to smoke pot first but he doesn't want her to be under the influence while they're having sex. so they forge ahead without the weed, but a transparency of herself steps outside of her body and goes to sit on a chair nearby, watching the scene from a distance, slightly bored. alvy asks her if she's alright, says it seems like she's not really there with him, but she assures him that she is. that scene pretty much captures the state of things for me these days.

i've had to learn how to separate my mind and emotions (yeah, i've got a few) from my body, and it hasn't been the most pleasant experience. your body does one thing while your mind sits on the chair next to the bed, wishing it had brought a book along to pass the time. and you can't help but slightly miss the old times, when your heart and your body were one, when you had a heart, when you weren't jaded beyond belief, when you believed in love and romance and first kisses and the meaning of love songs and fluttering heartbeats and holding hands and coy glances and things unspoken but understood. but you wake up blinking one bright sticky sober morning with dry contacts and a dry mouth, and the radio's been on all night, and you ponder what it would take to bring those two things (your emotions and your body, that is) back together, and if you even want those things to be back together. you stare at the ceiling, thinking back to a time without secrets, when things happened spontaneously, when you didn't have to worry about mutual friends, or the past, or an uncertain but surely volatile future, and the judgment of your peers. but you can't think about all this right now, because after all, your body is still in that bed and you have to put a wan smile on your face.

excerpted from my favorite column, putting some perspective on the janet jackson super bowl debacle:

So outraged was the populace that Michael Powell, sanctimonious head of the FCC, he of the flagrant corporate whoring who recently tried to cram through new rules that would've allowed a handful of media giants to own almost every media outlet in the nation, is actually launching a probe into the Janet episode. How cute.

This is the message: A woman's bare breast is a horrific and disturbing thing, completely inappropriate for an afternoon of wholesome macho homoerotic skull-bashing NFL violence and endless hours of nauseating commercial crassness -- unless the woman is, you know, a cheerleader. Now rush off to bed kids, and read your Bibles while Mommy and Daddy pop some Zoloft and Levitra and crack a few Bud Lights and head off to the fetish dungeon to lick our new Ford GT. Got it.

Yes, a woman's flesh is unspeakable evil. However, umpteen erectile-dysfunction commercials and crotch-biting pisswater Bud Light commercials and toxic-junk-food commercials and faux-macho truck commercials and the ad featuring two old people beating each other up over a bag of greasy potato chips, why, that's just tasteful, healthy capitalism. Is that it, Mike? Politicians? Just want to be clear.

Because there is no outcry. There are no snide FCC honchos or uptight politicians hurling the terms "vile," "disgusting" and "crude" at the true poisons of the culture, like those above -- not to mention politicians' own oil cronyism or easy lies about war, or the decimation of our foreign policy. You want to talk vile and disgusting, senator? Have you seen the new BushCo budget?

...

But in the final analysis, which is more harmful to your innocent unsoiled perfect child? Hearing Bono say "this is really fucking brilliant" during the Golden Globes and ogling Janet Jackson's PR-happy breast for all of 1.7 seconds, or the endless stream of blood-soaked images of BushCo's bogus war machine interspersed with never-ending commercials featuring misogyny, bestiality, cheap beer and toxic sodas, along with arrays of pneumatic bleached-toothed cheerleaders doing the splits while sweaty 300-pound men in tights pulverize each other like gorillas on meth?

Verily, congressman, and truly, Mr. Powell, why are you not out there screaming and clenching your fists and protecting our innocent children from the endless array of sociocultural lies and abuses and corporate whorings you yourselves support and help perpetuate?

Why are you not, in short, ranting about the need to protect our children from the likes of, well, you?

i was catching up on current affairs (i.e. reading US weekly and Lucky) at borders at stones today with jokey, and i came across this article about the sf dating scene. it was a boring read, but an interesting acronym caught my eye: "I started talking to a guy, who was not only too young but also GU (geographically undesirable, because he lived in Mountain View)."

although i will freely admit to having a superiority complex when it comes to being a san frncisco native, i've never necessarily marked a guy down for where he lived.

HAVE I?!?!?!

thinking back, it might be subconscious. my friends love to essentialize people based on where they grew up or what school they go to, but it's all a joke....right? is it really ok to judge a guy based simply on where he hangs his hat?

on second thought, i'm not sure if this writer labeled the guy as GU because Mountain View is so far from The City or just because it's Mountain View. one can be GU if one lives too far away; but one could also be GU if they live in a place that's, let's say, culturally impaired. but if the latter is the case, i'd say about 94% of American guys even qualify to be GD (geographically desirable), since only one city really gets respect from sanfrncscans, and there aren't that many guys who live in new york city. personally, the only other city besides nyc that i would consider GD is berkeley: oakland thinks it has more street cred than sf, san jose is too far, and all the other places in the bay are suburbs (enough said).

but this GU thing really got me thinking: as if guys don't have enough to be insecure about (not tall enough, not cut enough, bad dancer, bad breath, etc.), now they have to worry about whether or not they live in a GD place. it can probably be proven, though, that the further one lives away from a major metropolitan area, the less action one can expect. i mean, seriously, what would you say to a guy who said "Hey, come back to my place....in Mountain View"?

how is it february already??
on friday for some reason i can't remember at the moment g-lo suggested i set up a counter on my site, to track who is reading my blog. i guess i wasn't really that drunk cuz i remembered the website the next day and set one up. scratch that, the site isn't hard to remember, and i was faded to the point where i was sitting there "listening" to steve pontificate about hb allthewhile thinking "goddamn. i'm faded." the point is i've got a counter now, and i can see you muthafuckas. yeah, YOU. it's weird, someone actually found my site through miguel's blog. odd. STALKERS!

moving on. i've realized that my ex-boyfriends have all gone on to be better at things that i considered myself talented at -- one's currently in journalism school, and another is just a better goddamn writer than i am, the fucker. i'm not sure what the other one's up to, but i'm sure he's better at something that i think i'm good at, too, like parallel parking or kissing or drinking or mocking. something, damn him. as the woefully underrated nikka costa said, everyone's got their something -- i guess, but why do they all have to take mine?

i was in berkeley three times last week. on a not unrelated note, i cracked the 1PM wake-up, a few times, as well. i am a goddamn lazy ass bastard! if you see me online at 1 PM, and i've just signed on, please call me a lazy ass bastard, cuz I AM.

now that my teeth aren't bothering me anymore, i've been eating like crazy recently trying to gain the weight back, trying to put some junk in my trunk to make cherry proud to call me pilipina. speaking of, my dad just put up a new painting of his in the living room, and i love it. it's a really serene ocean landscape, with tiny yellow birds, a big rainbow, and a happy little boat sailing off to warm clear waters you can swim in. i told dad how much i liked it, and he said, "when i die, i want you to remember: i am the boat." my dad's the cutest, and he can cook a fish like no one.

i'm not sure what it is, but there was way too much sexual tension last week. is it that whole feb. 14 thing? *eye rolls*

and now, a list of small obsessions:
"me, myself, and i," beyonce knowles, remixed with the "uptown baby" (tariq and peter gunz) beat
"yeah," usher feat. luda and lil jon: DAMN YOU JOKESTER. DAMN YOU.
persepolis, by marjane satrapi: my second graphic novel; in sam's words: "Lisa, what has happened to you? You've changed, you've definitely changed."
"toxic," britney spears: i know, i know, my ibook's going to hell because i downloaded it, but it's still a good song.
"go it alone," noonday underground
"scream," and "let's talk turkey," ima robot: no one trusts me about this ima robot thing, for some reason, but you'll see. you'll see!
"a favor house atlantic," coheed and cambria
the grey album, dj danger mouse
"inside of love," nada surf

who are these people?
haven't blogged a real entry in a while, too busy with my ziggy stardust lifestyle. here goes.

so you think you know a person, but you really don't. even the people you see every day, for say, eight weeks, or ten weeks, or 23 years. how well do you really know them? it's even more strange when you grow close to people in a short period of time in an isolated place away from home, and then, when you see them again, it's as if they're totally different people. you notice things about them that you amazingly overlooked before. makes you wonder if you ever really knew them at all, or if the person you knew was somehow incapacitated in an accident and this person is just masquerading as them, or if it was all just a facade from the beginning. i guess it's the ultimate truth that we are products of our immediate environments, that we can change chameleonlike to fit the situation. we can change our spots, bringing some characteristics to the forefront while drawing back others.

and i'm no better than anyone in this way, not even bitch-ass girls who blog shit about me and my friends while being nice to our faces. if anything, i'm probably worse. with each new section of my life, i've been able to successfully reinvent myself, improving upon each previous version. there's a drastic difference between personal growth and reinvention. the point is that when you live in the moment, like most of us do, it's hard to really know what's real. we try on different hats, different personas, see what works, what sticks to the wall. but i like to think my core values stay the same, although my actions might not, and i haven't actually changed so much to the point where people who knew me before would say about me, "who is this person?" i think i treat people the same across time and locations, and i definitely don't front about how i feel about someone. as most of you know, i have a really hard time masking on my face what i'm thinking. and why should i?

one of the most unforgivable traits i find in women is deceit. i say in women specifically because i feel women are more predisposed to deceit than men and more adept at it. honesty, almost brutal honesty, is something i will always welcome in both men and women. most people will say it's one of the foremost traits of my character.

...or is it?

fuck good charlotte
since when did good fucking charlotte become society's moral fucking compass and arbiter of female values??? first, that goddamn "girls don't like boys/girls like cars and money" has reignited a new wave of misogynism, for no reason at all. i'm gonna say it just once: girls LIKE boys. girls could care less about cars and money. jesus. girls want someone to listen to them and make them laugh. THAT'S ALL IT IS. OK?!?

secondly: "hold on"--since when is good charlotte telling me to "hold on/things get better" going to make my life a better place?

thirdly: that mtv/good charlotte promotion a while ago about safe sex. how is good charlotte going to tell me to have safe sex? why must good charlotte be associated with safe sex? i mean look at them! it's too much.

ok i think that's enough.

long lost pics unearthed! see "new york cares" post below.

Which David Bowie are you?

oh my god
freesia lets her luda guard down:
like he needs to stop trying to make you into the type of girl that he wants to date... just because he wants some demure girl who will, as ludacris put it "be a lady on the street but a freak in the bed" (i can't believe i just quoted ludacris) does not mean that that's what's right for you.

another trying week of going out and getting drunk. sigh, it's a hard life. i've totally screwed over my body for the past week and a half, and as a result one of my wisdom teeth excavation sites is giving me drama and a swollen cheek. fuck.

shoutout to the bot, who shadowed me this week and provided much entertainment as well as a copy of the ima robot cd that i'm all over. until we meet again! eeoc, whaaaaaaat?

who, me?
The Entertaining Monkey - The "Merry Mercurial"
While a lively year of good times, good friends, and lack of boredom, only rarely are your own Monkey years constructive and capable of permanent development. Monkeys have difficulty staying on a straight and narrow course, tempted to take detours and short-cuts for the pure pleasure of discovery and novelty in 2004. It is not advisable to borrow or lend money to or from friends relatives or family members. Despite the drama, you do find the year's prevalent upheaval amusing. Attend more parties, weddings and happy events. Best months of the year for Intelligent Monkeys: July, August, September and December. Use extra caution during February, March, April and November.

"to world peace"
last night in berkeley

bot and cher

cher and friend

me and j-lo

christine and friend

bot gets tipsay

jean and jaime

scott and bot

bot (pre-"fuck you lisa") and jai

my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard
the difference between freesia and i (guess which one is mine)


got some pics from alice's last week in d.c (FINALLY)

alice and i after 801 became 911, at a seafood restaurant on 17th street where we were the only straight people there

alice, scott, and i pre-tequila grill for the last time. oh alice and your smirnoff ices...

new york cares
often times i forget. it gets overlooked by d.c., england, berkeley, and sf. but make no mistake -- i grew up one glorious summer in new york city, a wide-eyed 20-year-old girl from "cali".

i lived on the third floor of a red brick apartment building on west 20th street, between 7th and 8th avenues, in the chelsea district of manhattan. my roommate was a 25-year-old korean girl from atlanta who had previously worked in fashion and was currently looking for work. she was very friendly, but i rarely saw her, and i think she eventually came to hate me for having so many guests stay over. my room was a living room that was converted into a bedroom and consisted of a full-size futon, a lamp, a dresser, a tv, and an air conditioning unit.

i worked only three blocks away, on fifth ave. and 23rd st. so i would wake up, shower, and roll into work, yet still manage to get there later than my co-workers who had to take the subway in from brooklyn and the bronx. bethany was my co-intern who had been working there for two weeks already while i was in the philippines. we clicked immediately.

bethany became my partner in crime. the city scared me to death, but i told myself that if bethany (a tiny girl from "bahs-tin" who looked like she was twelve) could handle it, i could, too. we spent almost every day together for 8 weeks that summer, and i never got sick of her.



the days were hot, and i used to sunbathe on my fire escape and listen to alicia keys. i was going through a halter top and flip-flop phase, and that was pretty much my uniform the entire summer. but it was still hot beyond belief. more than once i went straight home, threw off my clothes, and sat in front of my air conditioning in my underwear until i cooled down. more often, bethany and i would go out after work, shopping up and down fifth avenue near the office, to bryant park for monday night movies, to soho for middle eastern food, to herald square. our goal was to hit each banana republic in the city, and we came damn close. i learned how to walk like a new yorker, fast, darty, and with a little swivel.



there was a steady stream of visitors through my apartment. sam and bethany, drunk and eating m&m cookies (sam would always go directly to my bathroom; bethany kicked me countless times in bed when she stayed overnight each weekend); crystal and freesia, with their endless shopping bags; kat and sketchy's 20 fake rolex watches; kimi and shimon camping out next to my bed for a night; laurie waking up at some ungodly hour just to go to h&m; chain-smoking owen and his sexual escapades; ali and jonny stopping by; bethany's insanely boring i-banker yuppie friends. i didn't know a soul in new york when i stepped off the plane, but somehow i was never alone.

crystal made fun of the hassidic jew children on the statue of liberty ferry; we stumbled on a cafe from a scene in "you've got mail"; we bought tickets to see "chicago" from the tkts in the world trade center; i threw up a dub in the met; we ate crab sandwhiches in the shadow of the brooklyn bridge; we drank dunkin' donuts coffee on monday mornings; sam and i had cigarettes on my fire escape; frees, crys, and i took a chinese bus to boston for a day and threw up dubs at harvard. in july we went to seattle and scandalized the DC interns. we sipped forties or brass monkeys on my rooftop, getting drunk amid the lights of downtown. we ate mr. softees endlessly, at all times of day. we let our bosses take us out to a yankees game and buy us beer and hot dogs. bethany and i roller skated in central park, fell asleep on the grass, and then went down to chinatown for steak cubes.



and that's what it was. i was young in new york city, with great friends and no inhibitions. one of my strongest memories from that summer is laughing, i swear that's all we did, everywhere. somewhere among all the mr. softees, banana republics, steak cubes, softshell crab sandwiches, falafels, and m&m cookies, i guess i grew up.

i usually hate long lists that generalize about a group of people or an emotion, but this is actually quite on point. damn, i didn't even realize #25 until i read it here. curse you #30, curse you. i can't believe a guy actually knows about #47. i swear there are only like five of these that i disagree with personally, but agree with about chicks on the whole. this guy is good.

this one wasn't bad either.

so this is the new year
it is hereby resolved:
-be less contentious when drunk
-write more, inlcluding that novel
-hie thee to the gym
-always use protection
-be on time
-eat three square meals a day (coffee doesn't count as a meal)
-no coffee after 11pm EVER
-don't double-book
-be more patient with friends from high school (and earlier) and always remember that you love them very much no matter what they say/do/wear
-take a trip at least once a season to somewhere i've never been
-drink more milk/take calcium pills
-read more nonfiction (blogs don't count)
-go to england like i've said i would for the past two years
-be on time (it bears repeating)

p.s. hey alice, let's get together soon.
p.p.s HAWAII, march 3-10, with jokester. hell fuckin yeah.

please god, let me write like a man
some recommendations:
- sam goes all the way uptown for some hot chocolate with milk in it (even though the manager wants him to use water). "hello, may i speak to...to michael?"
- lin spends a week in san francisco with me and leaves with an expanded knowledge of creperies, a waning coffee buzz, and a distaste for the south bay. my work is done.
- imad returns from that sad old bugger of imperialism and concludes that i should hold public office.
- dave, come back. we miss you so. who else could possibly get 42 eprops on one post?
- arthur only reads peoples' blogs to see if they've mentioned him. i'm not sure if he reads mine, but if so, this one's for you. if you click only one link this year, click here.

a latecomer:
- brandon finally discovers girls and affirms my suspicion that i know no single guys who are not bitter and fed up with chicks. the bit was well-written, b, but remember blogging means never having to say you're sorry.

I'd give anything for a cheese steak sandwhich and fries
You know the Paul Frank monkey? I have these Paul Frank monkey PJs that a bf bought for me one year, some of you may be familiar with them. "Well, this is the only time you'll get to look like the monkey on your pyjamas," my mom has just consoled me. And it's true. I do look like that monkey right now. My cheeks are massive.

This is not doing good things for my self-image, which, as some of you may know, has of late become preoccupied with the idea that I have a fat face. Looking over my high school photos and comparing, I fear it's true. "Medium!" teases Freesia, who knows that every year some well-intentioned male always buys me an article of clothing sized medium, which throws me into a self-conscious fury about my perceived body size. This happens because, these males claim, they judge a girl's size by her height, not her weight, and I am pretty tall (although Ali loves to make things worse by saying that I'm not really that tall), even though I have long had a obvious (however apparently not to males) preference for wearing my clothes on the small size.

Anyways. After weeks of having the bejesus scared out of me by all my friends who have gone through this wretched procedure, I was finally ready to face the chair. Unfortunately, two nights prior, Biff and Kimi regaled me with horror stories of heads being jerked around and waking up midway through it to sights that they spared me details of. "Lisa, you're talking to three people who have all gone through it," Kimi said. "I mean, you will live!"

Then it occurred to me that this was something not unlike giving birth. People do it all the time and live. It's an everyday occurence. In fact, this is probably the closest I will ever come to giving birth and having something, four things to be exact, extracted from my body. Funny how the recovery period for having a child is actually shorter than undergoing this surgery.

So I lived. I actually woke up crying, an interesting side effect. I guess you can cry and not be conscious. It's a reaction to pain, not always an emotional response, or something? Very odd. Odder still is that I couldn't stop crying even after I was in the recovery room. I actually had to tell myself to stop being a sniveling wreck because there was no reason to cry. Yet if I hadn't been in public, I would have cried for a bit longer. Crying is one of those things where once you start, it's really hard to stop because you start feeling sorry for yourself and then your mind starts to search for other things to cry about, and then you're a sobbing crumpled mess. But, it's also very therapeutic. Kimi told me a long time ago that it's ok to cry because it means you're healing. The last time I cried was that night in DC at Dream, on Lin's shoulder, for hours.

So I've been bed-ridden for the past two days. My dad spoiled me like a baby all day yesterday and my mom takes the night shift of being Florence Nightengale, a role she enjoys to no end. I've been alternating between magazines, painkillers, antibiotics, and movies, and online a little bit. The movies I've been watching have done little to decrease my delirium at being inside for so long: Igby Goes Down, Your Friends and Neighbors,Restoration, and 8 Women, an eclectic mix (has anyone seen any of these movies?).

>

I should be back to my usual carousing self in a few days. Big birthday shout-out to my pimp, who turns the big 21 today. Your life will never be the same, my friend.

And, for your enjoyment, pics here and here of Lin's tour of SF (courtesy of me) last week.

what shall we toast to?
so jokester says that the words of the break were "bar" and "stones." but i'd say the words of the break were "random ass folks from back in the day" and "the mixing of two worlds." here's the two week holiday night recap:

mon/22: elbo room with biff, kimi, ali, freesia for gift exchange and ocean beach ice teas that are KILLER
tues/23: THE ONE NIGHT I CHILLED AT HOME
thur/25: dragon lounge with crys ("did you bring the coochie??"), frees, ali, cherry, jonny and crew, laurie and crew (eug, poof, pete, keith, jeannie, crit, scott)
friday/26: hobson's choice/city tavern/blue triangle with elementary school crew, middle school crew, high school crew and hella friends (aka night of randoms aka night of john solomon)

check out my phantom shot hand--my hand is actually starting to curve naturally into the shot glass holding position. not a good sign.
sat/27: 26mix for kathy's birthday with kimi

me and frootz (she looked like that in every picture)
sun/28: frjtz/crepes on cole/tart/pig mania domination with lin, dennis, jokester, and kat
mon/29: berkeley/zachary's with cherry, alice and lin, then ghiradelli/twin peaks with lin and jokester
tues/30: valencia/place pigalle with dc crew: alice, jaime, lin, dennis, scott
weds/31: freezy's heezy
thur/1: tart with jai and lin
fri/2: elbo room and toxic ocean beach ice teas with the margotbot, boyfriend of the bot, and friends of the bot (incl. this guy i went to preschool with)
sat/3: julip/bliss bar/pupusas with alice, scott, dan, biff, alex, kimi

"today is for god, not for dates!" -- freesia, today
"you're a marxist with fashion sense." -- biff
"you're gonna have a hella strong urinary tract! OK? OK??" -- me to jokey
"you like that movie, huh." -- jonny to lin
"we made sweet, sweet lipstick all night long." -- crystal

just a new year's list.
"waltz #2," elliott smith
"so says i," the shins
"gigolo," nick cannon feat. r kelly
"it's my life," no doubt
sea change, beck
the complete stone roses, stone roses
another fine coaster, samson lee
transatlanticism, death cab for cutie
the namesake, jhumpa lahiri
the rotter's club, jonathan coe
the fellowship of the ring, jrr tolkien
frjtz
pig mania
waking up and yelling "I WANT MY GIFTS!" at sleeping laurie at 8 am this morning like it was christmas, then wearing all the hella cute nyc stuff with my pjs

save me from tomorrow, save me from tomorrow
so i get what the sun also rises is about: the lost generation and how war changed the values of that generation, shifting meanings of sexuality, masculinity, and meaningful relationships. i haven't been able to shake it out of my head since. hemingway's group of expats in that novel bear a striking resemblance to my friends today, i fear. we rush along, from bar to bar, party to party, city to city, country to country, in a drunken, exhilarated horde. we party to escape the meaninglessness of life, the dull numbness of work, and the mind-boggling insanity of relationships, but we can't even realize this fact because we're too busy being drunk. but what is the reason for our disillusionment with life? we all grew up so privileged, went to school in a good neighborhood, then off to college, studied abroad in our junior year, now working decent jobs. i don't think it's a bad thing, really, this stumbling along without catching our breath to stare down our sad state. but it begs the question: just what are we running from?

high school friends + new friends + laurie's friends + rum and cokes + 1 liquid cocaine
add sexual tension (mostly involving ali), and stir
= a great christmas night!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Pedro Romero had the greatness. He loved bull-fighting, and I think he loved the bulls, and I think he loved Brett. Everything of which he could control the locality he did in front of her all that afternoon. Never once did he look up. He made it stronger that way, and did it for himself, too, as well as for her. Because he did not look up to ask if it pleased he did it all for himself inside, and it strengthened him, and yet he did it for her, too. But he did not do it for her at any loss to himself. He gained by it all through the afternoon.

you think this is easy?
ugh, this is the tough part--too many people reading this blog so i feel constricted in what i can discuss. ugh.

so, goddamnit, i think about you. and i hate it.

it's not easy for me. it's not easy to lie in bed alone each night. it's not easy to admit that i get lonely every now and then. it's not easy to think about all the good times we had. it's not easy to drink cold coffee mixed with rain and teardrops.

i really hate all this sentimental crap, but i can't help it. too much drinking for a monday night. i love my friends!

ten moments
1. "thanks for buying me a drink."
"yeah, well you let me grab your ass, so i thought i might as well." (i'm still not sure if this was just a joke)
2. "ali's a hooker!"
3. the "whoo" circle (so annoying!)
4. "who's that girl he's dancing with who is hella less cute than you?" (from more than one person. hella messed, but also you know.)
5. christine and scott's dance-off
6.a few different people: "are you having fun?"
me: "no, not really."
7. "so when is braz going to take his shirt off?"
8. kristin: "what are we going to do now?"
me: "eat a whole lot of sausage!"
9. "what the fuck--is this a malibu and pineapple????"
10. being beaten by an over-6-foot-tall korean man in the street and no one intervening

thanks to everyone who came out and shook it like a polaroid, extra special thanks to those who bought me drinks or bore gifts, super spesh thanks to a sickly vic and his girlfriend who stopped by (and paid cover) for just a minute to drop off a totally unnecessary (but very much appreciated) present. apologies to ali for the hooker thing. big dis to the dj for playing a wack-ass mix of "in da club," the only song i really wanted to hear last night.

sadly, LOTR was NOT ROTL (Return of the Legolas). in fact, he had the smallest part in this one out of all three. oh well. i guess it was still pretty good.


ha! just kidding, it was really good. go see it. it's a lot funnier than any of the other ones, but i'm not sure how intentional that is. some parts are just hella overacted. plus, they all die in the end, and how heartwarming is that? oooo spoiler!!! :P haha.

more evidence that my mom can't handle caffeine and that my sister is an idiot
so my sister calls me today and says "dad thinks i'm an idiot."
me: "why?"
frootz: "he asked me this morning if i knew who saddam hussein was. when i said yeah, he was like, 'oh. well they caught him today.'"

tonight my mom is totally hyper after eating coffee crunch cake, and she's cleaning out her purse.
mom: "why do i have all these pens that aren't mine?"
me: "um, cuz you're a thief?"
mom: "no, no, i was a thief, was a thief."

last thing. conversation between me and i love the jokester strikes back today:
freesia, after helping tom with his med school app.: "damn, i better be getting some tiffany's out of this." *dirty look from lisa* "kidding! kidding!"
me: "it's girls like you that make me wonder why i'm a lesbian."

damn you, vile sickness!
after weeks of wet pants cuffs and frozen fingers, i've finally caught a cold. luckily the campaign is over, but i hope i recover by next weekend or else i will be quite a miserable sight. but alcohol kills germs, right? :P old joke.

i spent the day with my mom and aunt at hillsdale, my secret shopping mall goldmine. i always find stuff there i can't find anywhere else. two things struck me as i fought off old grannies and annoying mallrats (NOTE: this is going to be an uncharacteristically [ha] shallow and more-stylish-than-thou rant, but what do you expect, i was at a mall, for chrissakes):
1) i don't understand what possesses people to firstly buy and subsequently wear certain items of clothing that they believe to be trendy to the mall. for example, jeans with hella straps on them. or those satin pants that are cinched at the bottoms. what goes through the minds of these people as they decide whether to purchase these things? i just don't understand. i'm all for taking fashion risks, but there are limits of taste! i mean, i see these things on sale at lots of stores, but i never thought anyone actually bought them, god forbid. (NOTE: i'm sure there are some of you out there who are going to say, "but, lisa, you've made some rather atrocious fashion mistakes, too -- camoflage capris? the fake hair? the pleather phase? that scarf that you wore as a top? that hawaiian skirt that you swore got shorter each time you wore it? and those crocodile stiletto boots that you couldn't walk in, so you made billy and bruce carry you instead, and had tommie hold them for you and someone accused him of stealing them?" to you, i say: "play 'wheels on the bus,' and get out of my face!....and the scarf top was hella cute!")
2) there were tons of couples at the mall today. TONS. how do these (totally unfashionable, i might add) people get together? how? HOW?! you ever stare at couples and think, how does she have a boyfriend and I don't? probably not, since you're probably not as spiteful or petty as i am. or you haven't admitted it to yourself yet. these are the things i think about when i go to the mall. that, and where's the claire's?

obviously, being sick has put me in quite a mood. back to family guy.

best chow fun in san francisco: north hollywood cafe, on pacific below grant, in chinatown. thank me later.

so tomorrow is the big day. i will be very sad if matt doesn't win, but i know that this is just the beginning. there were some tremendous coalitions formed because of this campaign, and either way, it is a major sign that a shift is happening in the city. the people are sick and tired of bullshit corrupt politicians who fuck over our beautiful city by building more goddamn lofts to attract the white yuppies; who support police who beat up innocent residents and then cover it up; who want to take money away from the most disenfranchised sector of the population, the homeless, and who actually want to throw them in jail because, you know, their lives aren't hard enough already; who make backroom deals to protect their interests and their money; who want to put more police in our schools because we need SF high schools to become even MORE of a police state. god, i'm so sick of all of it sometimes, and it makes me actually want to cry to see what this city, my city has become.

there are two huge issues at work in this mayor's race that neither candidate wants to talk about directly, the elephants in the room that no one wants to mention. those two issues are race and class, of course. the city is ground-zero for racial issues, which is what issues like homelessness, affordable housing, education, minimum wage, and police brutality are. these issues are inherently racial in nature, although no one wants to say "race" in front of a camera or on a mailer. this election is also the sign of the beginning of an era of class warfare in the city--the rich are for newsom, the working class are for gonzalez. it's that simple. the rich like that newsom will protect their money, since he has money. he's the supervisor for the richest district in the city--district 2, pacific heights (aka "specific whites"), north beach, sea cliff, marina. that district makes me sick. these are no ordinary white people--these are WHITE PEOPLE, with beamers, coiffed hair, white cashmere, range rovers, louis vuitton bags, with their fucking bougie union street boutiques, and starbucks. these people are not my san francisco. these people are about as far away from my san francisco as you can get. we, the people of The City, only tolerate these yuppie scum because we have to. they remind us that there is a whole other world outside of our wonderful little utopia, a world that hates us as much as we hate them, and tolerates us only to park their cars, clean their houses, watch their children, empty their trashcans.

the matt gonzalez campaign was a revolt against this group, which has controlled san francisco for way too long. the workers for matt are old and young, gay and straight, black, latino, asian, artists, workers. they are san francisco. they stand alone on intersections in isolated parts of the city in the pouring rain at dusk, with a sign on a stick and a poncho. they bike through the streets with a handwritten cardboard sign on their back that reads "ask me about matt gonzalez for mayor!" they hold 30 parties in 30 days to raise money for matt, since newsom has outspent them ten-to-one (yet gonzalez still leads by two points in the polls). they walk through the streets of the most dangerous districts in the city, visatacion valley and bayview/hunter's point, just two young asian american females, armed only with a clipboard of names and a totebag of flyers, going door to door and educating chinese and pilipino voters on why they, the hardworking, low-income asian americans, should vote for him. they do it for free, some of them, and some of them do it without even the campaign HQ knowing about it. this is a real grassroots movement the likes of which san francisco has not seen in years.

the change is coming--there's nothing anyone can do to stop it. you can feel it vibrating through the seven hills of san francisco, through the streets. you're either in or you're out. it starts here, it starts now. whether or not matt wins is not extremely significant. the working class of san francisco--along with every other person who loves this, the greatest city in the world--are going to take their city back, if nothing else. fuck bush, fuck arnold, fuck newsom. tell your sister, tell your brother, tell your mom and dad, tell any family you have in san francisco. get them to the polls. vote matt gonzalez tomorrow and vote for change in san francisco.

I though of that old joke, y'know, the, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" And the guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much how I feel about relationships. Y'know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and, but, uh, I guess we keep going through it because, uh, most of us need the eggs.--annie hall

a long december
three things:
1) please everyone save saturday december 20th for me. i'm thinking of doing some sort of bar-with-music fete in sf. more info and evite to come. my birthday always falls at the shittiest time--friends from school are back in socal and friends from home are not yet back from socal, it's the week before xmas so everyone's stressed, hella people aren't 21 yet, friends from cal don't want to go to sf, and friends from sf don't want to go to berkeley, not to mention all that east coast-west coast, 50 cent-ja rule, tupac-biggie drama. damn. so mah fahn. you must MUST come out and parlay if you're anywhere in the bay, it'll be fun, i personally guarantee excitement... ;)

2) i have no game.

3) freesia: "my bed is so far from the wall i feel like it's gonna just fly off somewhere."
me: "to the island of naboo?"
(anyone besides jokester who can name that reference gets hella props!)

more madness from home
me, to my mom, as my dad walks by: "you and dad are twins! you guys are wearing the same fleece! it's the exact same thing, but in different colors! how cute..."
laurie, looking at me from the floor, totally deadpan: "me too."
me, looking at her and jumping back: "AH! OH MY GOD!"
laurie: "you should put one on, too. join the club."

i live in a house of fleece insanity.

snippet of conversation from the household:
laurie (holding up a cup used for urine tests) to my mom: "you want to keep this?"
mom: "yes."
lisa: "what's that?"
mom: "a urine cup."
lisa: "for what??"
mom: "urine."
mom: "such a silly question."

fin.

i wish i could send this to every man and woman i know, but i guess this will have to do.

Can men become attracted to women who aren't their physical ideal?

*this works for women and their male physical ideal as well

excerpt:
I don't think it's about waiting for him to superimpose his mental picture of the cheerleader over your face. You have to break through his billboard and wake him up. There is a place where men and women meet that is so deep there are no billboards anymore, there is just the desert sky and a scary howling that you're not even sure is coming from you or him, it's so animal.

Yes, many men get hard over skinny hips and big tits. Big deal.

What you're after is the ideal, where physical love becomes this transcendent thing, where a man is really loving the woman. Yes, her body, but not just her body, in her body but not just in her body, the woman but not just the woman -- the hair, the eyes, the sweat, the fold of flesh, the memories, the voice, the idea of her, the person she is, the things they've done, the wounds they've given, the food they've eaten, the walks they've taken, like falling to their deaths the whole thing flashes before them, and that's the ultimate thing, that's where in that moment it would be so silly for him to think, gee, I wish she weighed 3 pounds less, I wish I could see her hipbones, I wish her ribs were showing, that would really turn me on. How absurd for a man in love, so enraptured with this woman that loving her is the same as loving his own life. Think how odd that would be. But then the rush always wears off and he thinks I have to pay the parking meter or whatever did happen to that one blue sock I used to like so much ... but that's after the rush wears off. Your body didn't prevent you from getting to that precious few moments near the sun.

How you get there, where you are lost to the world with your soul mate, where you aren't even one person anymore exactly, but just this exploded citizen of the sun, this bell set ringing by her blow, her tap, her fist, her knock, when you're just this ancient eternal force of life with no need even for an ego, who needs an ego when you're already eternal, you've kicked off the shoes, you're a barefoot corpse laughing at the autopsy, you're there, you've arrived in your sweetie's arms and that's where you're staying even when they wheel you back into your dark little chamber. Where am I going with this? What am I saying? I'm saying that the mystery of attraction lies not in a visit to the Size 5-7-9 Shop. There's something overwhelming out there and it's not about your measurements. It's waiting for you. He might have it in his house, who knows? It might be lying in his heart just waiting for you. It might be hidden in an ironic laugh and a plate of spaghetti. There might be a ring involved. There might be a ceremony with lots of white. Or there might be a drunken misunderstanding, a walk through a storm, tears washing down your face with the rain. But it's not about the length of your femur and your percentage of body fat. It's about this thing that happens between people when they lose themselves.

Life is short. Maybe he's the one. Get some courage. Shake him up. If he likes you and he's not doing anything about it, maybe he's sleepwalking. Take his book away and see if he wakes up. Put a plate of food in front of him and see if he eats. Roll him over and scratch his belly. Find out what gives.

i've been looking especially bad these past few days--tired, ragged, dark circles, pallid, just not cute all in all. matt, what are you doing to me? i've cut my coffee habit down to one a day, and i'm sleeping a decent amount. nutrition is pretty good, too, and i'm not smoking anymore. so what the fuck?? maybe i'm vicariously experiencing finals through my friends. or, even scarier, maybe after years and years of finals, my body has actually programmed itself to be stressed at this time of the year. or maybe it's just the rain and cold and blah.

two apps due in two weeks = not so fun, and i have to write a new statement of purpose for berkeley. try fitting why you want to go to grad school in 500 words. or, try fit "career goals" in three lines: I want to write for an alternative weekly for a few years, then work in the nonprofit sector in the areas of civil rights, community development, or women's issues before pursuing a Masters or PhD in Ethnic Studies. Then, I'd like to travel for research on my nonfiction book about Asian diaspora in Western Europe, and have a torrid international affair with a devastatingly handsome cosmopolitan jetsetter artist, which will be fodder for my novel. We would reinvigorate the expatriate artists/writer colonies in Europe and/or Asia and redefine the style and culture of our time. I would then return to the States and write the long-awaited screenplay with Chrissy and Freesia. With our fame and money, we would finally start our own magazine in New York City, which we would promote in the press by playing up our mixed racial heritages. I would live in the Village with my filmmaker boyfriend who will direct my screenplay. I would like to retire in San Francisco with my witty intellectual professor significant other and have the journalism room, hell, why not an entire wing of Lowell named in my honor."

GRoOVe roBber (7:00 PM): ok I know I'm a dork, but you gotta appreciate this achievement:
GRoOVe roBber (7:01 PM): I've cleaned my inbox out after like 6-7 months
GRoOVe roBber (7:01 PM): and now I only have FIVE messages in my inbox!
GRoOVe roBber (7:01 PM): F I V E !
GRoOVe roBber (7:02 PM): ok, relatively clean compared to you junk hoarders
lisa n da sky (7:02 PM): you're a hoar.
GRoOVe roBber (7:02 PM): but the last few months i've been at like 70-80 messages
lisa n da sky (7:02 PM): it's not like whoever has the cleanest inbox wins the race
GRoOVe roBber (7:02 PM): and it bothered the fuck outta me!
lisa n da sky (7:02 PM): yeah you're anal like that
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): YEESSSSS IT ISSSS!!!
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): yeah, yeah.
lisa n da sky (7:03 PM): it's not like whoever has the least amount of emails in their inbox when they die gets a better place in heaven
lisa n da sky (7:03 PM): IT'S NOT
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): that's what jesus told me.
lisa n da sky (7:03 PM): how many emails did he have in his inbox when he died?
GRoOVe roBber (7:03 PM): cleanliness is next to godliness...y'know- like jesus.
GRoOVe roBber (7:04 PM): jesus had mad PEN1S ENL*RGEMENT e-mails he never got to trash.
GRoOVe roBber (7:05 PM): that's the first thing he'll take care of after his resurrection and stuff.
lisa n da sky (7:05 PM): sam, you know you should save some of those
lisa n da sky (7:05 PM): maybe look into it
lisa n da sky (7:05 PM): OOOOOOOOOOO
GRoOVe roBber (7:05 PM): OOOHHH!!!

gems from the hardboiled story editor applications
these are all actual responses:

3. in your opinion, what is the most important issue relevant to the asian pacific american community?
-not enough hardboiled being read on campus
-asian ghetto ( i prefer "ethnic encleave" ) not providing a wide variety. There's like 4 Thai resturants within a block. And students get confused with Yokonama Station and fake Japanese resturant next door.
-there's not a consistency with how bobas are made.
-white [racist] people.

4. what experiences in the past do you think would qualify you for this position?
-i am an asian american
-i have issues
-i drink

5. what other activities and/or organizations (community, student, etc.) are you involved in and will you be holding any leadership positions? will you have enough time for hb?
-well i'm done with the fraternity crap. I guess i could break up with my gf. but she's not really very time consuming. Having a gf is like taking a 5 unit class with a discussion period afterwards. and I kinda like her. and besides, she's white so i can garner her thoughts and let the APAs know what her people think of my people. (poor susie!!)

2. yeah, so then what exactly is "asian pacific american" identity?
There is no APA identity, stereotypes are what contribute to this idea of an "APA" identity. You might expect me to say something like community, or pride, but we must realize there are different APAs just as there are different people. Also if this is some sort of trick question attempting to get me into a self-stereotype you didn't get me.

9. which other publications do you read (school pubs, magazines,
newspapers, etc.)
I read the sports section of the Daily Cal and do the crossword puzzle

in retrospect i should have eaten more cupcakes.
thanksgiving weekend was a busy little thing, considering that my family celebrated it two weekends ago. friday i i didn't have to work, yet i resisted the magnetic force that drives every person on earth downtown to go shopping the day after thanksgiving. instead i went to haight with kimi and then had a bite to eat at crepes on cole. there are some cute guys on haight street, man. too bad they automatically lose cool points by just being on haight street. haight was so high school. anyways, that night i finally saw chizu, who i haven't seen in almost a year, and we had dinner with jokester at naan n curry on irving. i cannot handle the spicy food, yo, i am PILIPINO. i was sweating all over the place.

we met up with crys and jen at rosewood, this bar on broadway near the broadway tunnel. it's so underground that there's no sign in front. i went there with jaime a while ago, and the crowd was pretty white/tourist/business casual, but this time it was cool. the place is a nice lounge with a dj playing good music (hard to find) and cute guys (even harder to find) who all have girlfriends (big shocker). the dj friday played this tupac mix that had all the fave tupac songs ("how do you want it," "california love," "i get around," "all bout u") oh it was so hot. hands in the air!! and hella white girls knew ALL the words to tupac.

saturday was a tiring day of work and then off to regan's for her birthday. we had a bunch of drinks, cupcakes, and pie at her place and then rallied the whole group to go to the hush hush lounge, a bar with dancing on valencia and 14th. it was a cool place, good music, young and mixed crowd. someone commented on how the crowd was indie, but the music was hip-hop, which is the ultimate sign that indie is now a style totally independent of music.

i had to be at work today at 10 am, so i'm so. utterly. tired.

for four years, between senior year of high school to our third year of college, my high school crew had a thanksgiving potluck at crystal's house. called "phat potluck," this was no small affair: we spent frenzied nights making lists of who we would invite (mostly friends from high school), figuring out who would be calling who (this was before evite), what we were going to bring, and most important of all, what we were going to wear. there was usually a good turnout. the largest ones were the first two. we judged the success of the party on the size of the pile of shoes in front of crystal's door, and for the first two years, the shoe pile was so big that we took pictures of it.

friends of various intimacy levels would drift in and out of the rooms, chatting, eating, laughing. boys would invariably be congregated downstairs playing video games. upstairs would be filled with people picking from the table laden with food in the dining room or talking in the living room. crystal's windows would be fogged up from the heat in the room. random people were thrown together to nibble, make conversation, and have a few laughs. there was the soccer team, the school newspaper folk, shield and scroll members, friends from college who went to different high schools in SF, current and former love interests, current and former boyfriends, my sister even stopped by one year.

and of course there was us, "the math wing crew," the nucleus. crystal, our wonderful hostess, would be running around the place, always decked out in an eye-catching outfit and complicated makeup. freesia would be sitting somewhere, flirting with her current crush and attempting to appear nonchalant in front of her past crush at the same time. loni would be making fun of someone, elani would be trying hard to chat up the outsiders, kristin would be telling a crazy story, nina, chizu, ali, kat, the whole crew would be there, adding a different element to the party.

in the last few years, the number of guests has dwindled--people lose touch, friends come and go, there were college and familial commitments, study abroad, and we stopped inviting people much further beyond our core group. finally, two years ago, our beloved tradition came to an end.

it's hard to imagine that we had such a great time without any alcohol. but times change. this year ali, kat, rich, frees and i celebrated being together again by going to 26 mix, a bar in the mission. it was almost completely empty, but the drinks were $2, and the jukebox and pool tables were free. we racked up a bunch of games, numerous rum and cokes, gin and tonics, and an entire glass of really good snack mix. i had so many drinks i lost count, but i suspect i doubled my magic number last night. it was almost unspoken that we would be going to seniore's on 19th and taraval after the bar. we picked up our pizza, and invited ourselves over to crystal's, more out of the necessity to pee than desire to see crystal. crystal patiently let us in, and we stuffed our faces and watched LOTR with her downstairs. i couldn't help but think with nostalgia of thanksgivings past, when the room would be filled with bodies. but at the same moment, i was so thankful for what i had: my very best friends from high school (and still fairly close today), all in the same room, drunk and gorging ourselves on greasy food, watching the movie that we had so much fun watching together a year ago. it was hands down the happiest i've been in months. i think i forget how much i truly love my friends and how happy they make me because i see them so infrequently. phat shoe pile or no, those are my girls.

The Sounds kick so much ass!

freestyln2 (12:48 AM): i'm stealing internet
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): from farmer fitzgibbon?
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): yes
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): OMG THAT WAS THE BEST SECRET OF NIMH REFERENCE EVER
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): did you get it?
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): lol
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): yeah
freestyln2 (12:49 AM): only lisa....
lisa n da sky (12:49 AM): GOOD I'M SO HAPPY NOW
freestyln2 (12:50 AM): lol
lisa n da sky (12:50 AM): if you didn't get that
lisa n da sky (12:50 AM): it would have been the most wasted reference in history

later on....

lisa n da sky (1:00 AM): i still can't get over how good that nimh reference was
lisa n da sky (1:00 AM): yo add that to your netflix
freestyln2 (1:00 AM): i saw that not that long ago
lisa n da sky (1:01 AM): i thought it was so cool how the animals had realistic names
lisa n da sky (1:01 AM): like justin and jonathan
lisa n da sky (1:01 AM): and nicodemus
freestyln2 (1:01 AM): ah yeah.. nicodemus... i can't believe how many nicodemuses i know... it's ridiculous
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): yeah my one friend nicodemus
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): there were too many in our crew
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): so i nicknamed him
lisa n da sky (1:02 AM): jeff

GO BEARS!

streakbreaker
finally got back to the thing i do best on a saturday night: going out and drinking in the city.

it has become as cold as a bastard here over the past week, like really really cold. so what else is there to do but drink? regan, biff, and i started the night out at the elbo room on valencia where the drinks are strong (i had an ocean beach iced tea, how awesome is that?) and the crowd is a good mix of everything. there was a hip hop show going on upstairs, and we watched two of the biggest fros i've ever seen walk in. when they eclipsed each other, we knew it was time to leave since i didn't have my sunglasses or a little box with a pinhole.

we braved the cold and shivered over to the make-out room a few blocks away, but after an irate patron told us it sucked inside, we went to a cute little cafe across the street. there were people playing chess at the sidewalk tables, and couples dancing to the jazz music played by the live band inside. something about cafes with live bands always gets me, especially when an upright bass and open storefront windows are involved. we took our glasses of sangria to the tables out front under the outdoor heaters, and got into a discussion with a studious looking man reading newsweek who overheard us toasting to "tha mish" and talking about tha mish, tha mo', tha 'stro, and tha 'set. "are you guys serious?" he asked us, incredulous. obviously not a native.

pretty drunk at this point, i had a craving for some sausage (insert your own joke here. ooo look how witty you are. don't say this blog isn't interactive...). biff knew a good place on haight near fillmore, so we went over there, but ended up at movida lounge since the sausage place was closed. regan inexplicably ordered a pitcher of sangria, so we had to finish it of course, and proceeded to get smashingly drunk. still yearning for the sausage, we orbited back to biff's where she cooked me a nice plate of sausage, brie, and french bread, which i concluded to be the best meal i've ever had in my life. i was too drunk to drive home, so i crashed at biff's, and any night that i don't spend in my own bed is overall a successful one, in my opinon.

because blogspot doesn't have that fancy "currently reading" or "currently listening to" feature like xanga or livejournal, here's a makeshift version:

currently reading: "the sun also rises" by ernest hemingway and "pedagogy of the oppressed" by paulo freire
currently listening to: "dead ringer," rjd2; "greatest hits," bjork; "chutes too narrow," the shins
currently DVDing: family guy season 1
current decision i'm standing behind: not going to school in boston next semester
current grad school applications i'm working on: berkeley, columbia, northwestern, and univ. of maryland
current job prospect: matt gonzalez's campaign
current domestic project: bringing winter clothes out of hibernation (where did all these sweaters come from?!)
current popular word: gadonkadonk
current favorite phrase (thanks biff!) : "well, God made it...so there must be some reason for it."
currently eating: homemade chocolate chip cookies
about to eat: crab dinner
currently wearing: jeans and sheer stretchy soft top
currently thinking: this blog has reached a new low.

fin.