Monday, March 30, 2009

$$$

It's funny how something can burst your bubble but then you'll have another one overflowing soon after, if that makes any sense.

point in case, these M&Ms are amazing.

Keoki


I miss my grandpa. A LOT.
He believed in me & showed it from day one.

I miss 2007 too. How appropriate:

"How It Will Happen, When"
Dorianne Laux

There you are, exhausted from a night of crying, curled up on the couch,
the floor, at the foot of the bed, anywhere you fall you fall down crying,
half amazed at what the body is capable of, not believing you can cry
anymore. And there they are, his socks, his shirt, your underwear
and your winter gloves, all in a loose pile next to the bathroom door,
and you fall down again. Someday, years from now, things will be
different, the house clean for once, everything in its place, windows
shining, sun coming in easily now, sliding across the high shine of wax
on the wood floor. You'll be peeling an orange or watching a bird
spring from the edge of the rooftop next door, noticing how,
for an instant, its body is stopped on the air, only a moment before
gathering the will to fly into the ruff at its wings and then doing it:
flying. You'll be reading, and for a moment there will be a word
you don't understand, a simple word like now or what or is
and you'll ponder over it like a child discovering language.
Is you'll say over and over until it begins to make sense, and that's
when you'll say it, for the first time, out loud: He's dead. He's not
coming back. And it will be the first time you believe it.

Cocoon

I'm so in love with her. & PJ Harvey. & Sheryl Crow. & Alanis Morisette. I need to listen to some Tori Amos. Suggestions?

Marriage isn't something that ever really crosses my mind, but if i ever did I know what dress I'd like to wear. Hell, just give me an occasion to rock something similar to this:

I don't really reflect on life when I blog these days. I've written everyday--religiously--since 2001, when I had my LJs, but that seemed to stop once I transferred to UCI. I still write of course, but less about me and more about the ideas floating around in my head.

I am glad I'm done with Winter Quarter. I've survived on episodes of LOST and TJ's Soy Dreamy Vanilla Mango soy ice cream, and I made Dean's List once more. Feels so good! I was never able to because I'd always work like 40+ hrs/week then pack on 18 semester units prior to transferring, and then transitioning into QTR system and working was so hard. I know what I'm capable of and I think this is one of the rare quarters where I was able to prove myself in many ways.

The things I did:
_wrote a total of 9 papers, 2 stories + poems (75+ pages, not including miscellaneous daily responses)
_nearly 50, 1+ pg. peer critiques of short stories and poems
_read like...30 books. Seriously. I counted--twice.
_the interview with Kittredge
_went through the 100+ submissions for this quarter's issue to select the best six
_compiled multiple portfolios (1.5+ inches of paper thick! and i'm not even done)
_so many meetings/volunteering/babysitting/tutoring
_a lot of other things that definitely elude me now

It was mental hell but I survived, thank the gods. I was thinking about taking 20 units again next quarter, but I think I'll chill with 16. This is what I have in mind:

* The Craft of Fiction
* Joyce's Ulysses
* Advanced Poetry Writing with Michael Ryan!
* Philosophy of the Other (hopefully!)
* Traditional Turn in Chinese Film (maybe)
* Family in Modern Japanese Literature and Society (maybe)


I started reading Michael Ryan's autobiography, Secret Life last night and I think he can help me articulate my own personal demons. Not that I can relate to him on the same level, but i have some things to work out in myself and within my own writing.

I'm really happy here in Newport. How can I not be when I find myself waking up to this, often:


There are some things that tug at my heart and get under my skin, but for the most part I'm really happy to be right where I am in life right now. When I factor everything that shouldn't matter out life is really resonating. I've worked really hard and I feel like it's finally paying off. When I look at my accomplishments it makes me happy, because they meet my own standards and no one else, and I think that's what matters most. I am and have always been living for myself and it's a wonderful feeling to overcome adversity and meet those goals when I feel like so much has stood in the way of me earning my degree. I miss working as much as I used to though. I can't handle feeling dependent on anything or anyone other than myself, so I'm looking forward to graduating and regaining my independence. It's been such a pain finding a decent job that will accommodate my school schedule. I have so much experience! It's always a scheduling conflict. I want to move to Santa Monica sometime next year and work somewhere in that area. That would be perfect. I'm only twenty-two going on twenty-three and I feel like so much is at my fingertips, and I don't think this is callow bliss. I can honestly say I don't regret or wish I'd done a thing differently when I look back. I can't say that I've wasted any time not doing something I thought I should have been doing or made a bad decision, because no matter how hard and grueling my situation may be right now, I can feel it in my bones that it's the right one. I feel like I'm living out the "what if's" so my future holds none. :]

People are already asking me "what's next." I really hate that question. Of course I know what I want to do and always have a Plan B, C, and D. But I also like the exhilrating feeling of the unknown. It tempts and excites me, and I thrive on risks. So when people nag me my response is going to be "whatever the hell I want."

I was watching the Davis Cup Saturday morning (Roddick vs. Wawrinka) and it made me miss tennis. I was so into the game and anticipated every reaction. I felt Wawrinka's frustration in attempting to return one of Roddick's charged serves (although I never had a balling flying toward me at 137 mph!). I played four straight years on the Girl's Tennis team in high school and those were some good times. I know I hated the tan lines, bleachers, sprinting miles, lines, lunges, Indian runs, hell week, etc...BUT IT WAS SO FUN! I actually miss hitting down the line/cross court, volleying, rallying, the bus rides home from games (singing songs, writing funny signs to people passing by, trying to get homework done but getting sucked into laugh-fests), etc. I have two rackets but just remembered the ones I used to play with in high school were stolen. : / I haven't even broken these ones in. I will need to, soon.

I also feel really lucky to have such amazing family and friends. So understanding, reasonable and loads of fun. I am very fortunate to have a Mom that sends me random emails (and texts in all caps) to tell me how proud of me she is. There are no words to express this bliss.

Here's some video from an event I helped coordinate last month in Mammoth. They Will Ski Again. Can't wait for our first They Will Surf Again of the year down here at Bolsa Chica. Fun times. I have a few glorious seconds of hard work around 1:27 ;)



What a hearty post. As [almost] always, here's a poem:

"From an Atlas of the Difficult World"
Adrienne Rich

I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains' enormous spaces around you.
I know you are reading this poem
in a room where too much has happened for you to bear
where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed
and the open valise speaks of flight
but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem
as the underground train loses momentum and before running
up the stairs
toward a new kind of love
your life has never allowed.
I know you are reading this poem by the light
of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide
while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.
I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room
of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.
I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light
in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,
count themselves out, at too early an age. I know
you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick
lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on
because even the alphabet is precious.
I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your
hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty.
I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language
guessing at some words while others keep you reading
and I want to know which words they are.
I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn
between bitterness and hope
turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.
I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else
left to read
there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

p.s. RIP natasha richardson. Nothing hits me harder than someone dying before they've hit their prime, when they still have so much to give. This really breaks my heart.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Amor


I don't want to hear anything.
I want to know how you feel.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Favorite

About / Artist Bio

Nanami Cowdroy was born in Sydney, Australia with close bonds to her mixed Japanese-European heritage. Growing up with such contrasting cultures and surroundings, has greatly influenced her style of art and creative expression.

By intertwining complex characters and highly detailed objects her pieces reflect a juxtaposition between foreign and familiar entities and environments. Her imagination is illustrated through works which are elaborate and exotic. She is drawn to subjects, which may on the surface seem delicate or fragile, but are given strength and depth through her pen and ink techniques, intricate hand generated style and mixed media compositions.

Her signature detailed style reflects a refined monochrome pallette with her name 'Nanami' (meaning 'Seven Seas' in Japanese ) stamped in red. Fluid line-work, watery creatures and Goldfish are some of her favourite subjects, and distinctive forms which are featured in her artworks.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Hmm


"Sexism"
by David Lehman

The happiest moment in a woman's life
Is when she hears the turn of her lover's key
In the lock, and pretends to be asleep
When he enters the room, trying to be
Quiet but clumsy, bumping into things,
And she can smell the liquor on his breath
But forgives him because she has him back
And doesn't have to sleep alone.

The happiest moment in a man's life
Is when he climbs out of bed
With a woman, after an hour's sleep,
After making love, and pulls on
His trousers, and walks outside,
And pees in the bushes, and sees
The high August sky full of stars
And gets in his car and drives home.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Tweet Tweet


It's so weird that so many people are hopping on Twitter now. I remember when my friends in social media first told me to hop on. They are so much better at keeping up with the internet than me! If you're on it you can find me here [http://twitter.com/tianamayumi].

Monday, March 16, 2009

Oh, finals.

This is how I feel right now:


Two papers and an in-class final to freedom. I can't believe how much I have done this quarter.

I just caught up with a friend on the phone for two hours. Haven't talked to him on the phone in years, and haven't talked on the phone in a while. That was great. Hi Deejay if you ever read this!

Six Word Novels

John Mayer started it. Perfect for when I'm feeling attention deficit. Here are some favorites:

"Danced in Fields of Infinite Possibilities" - Deepak Chopra

"Soul'd out so I could prophet." - Gotham Chopra

"Strange name. Transparent shame. Instant fame." - Bumble Ward

"Birth, childhood, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence..." - Jim Gladstone

"Happiest when ignoring huge financial debt." - Ayanna Bryan

"Egomaniac with inferiority complex defies odds." - Lynne Vittorio

"Followed rules, not dreams. Never again." - Margaret Hellerstein

"Study mathematics. Marry slut. Sum bad." - Dan Robinson

"I hope to outlive my regrets." - Bob Logan

"Blogging is easy. Writing is hard." - Jennifer Shreve

"And he nerded as never before." - Jon Thysell

"Near death experiences are my forte." - Anna Mauser-Martinez

"Lived in moment until moment sucked." - Janine Goss

"She walked barefoot in wet cement." Michelle Pinchev

"As a child, nomadic. Now static." - Kristin Gotski

"No words can describe my life." - John Baldridge

"Afraid of everything. Did it anyway." - Ayse Erginer

"I wrote it all down somewhere." - Ben Greenman

"Missed Halley's Comet. Miss virginity too." - Yoz Grahame

"Lost and found, rescued by dog." - Gail Reilly

"What the hell. Might as well." - Nancy London

"I take photographs. I see life." - Daniel James

"My life's a bunch of almosts." - Shari Bonnin

"Brought it to a boil, often." - Mario Batali

"Found great happiness in insignificant details." - Alisdair McDiarmd

"My reach always exceeds my grasp." - Ray Garraud'

"Still lost on road less traveled." - Joe Quesada

"Girlfriend is pregnant, my husband said." - Shonna MacDonald

"Lucky in love, unlucky in metabolism." - Leah Weathersby

"I live the perfect imperfect life." - Paul Lore

"Glass half full; pockets half empty." - Marina Guthrie

"Married for money. Divorced for love." - Rosie Abraham

"I was and now I'm not." - Gayla Buyukas

"Oh sweet nectar of life, coffee." - Daniel Axenty

"One tooth, one cavity, life's cruel." - John Bettencourt

"Take a left turn, then fly." - Hillary Carlip

"Born at 23, childhood doesn't count." - Krissy Karol

"Perpetual work in progress, need editor." - Sherry Fuqua-Gilson

"Boys liked her. She preferred books." - Anneliese Cuttle

"Carbohydrates call my name every day." - Mary Petersdorf

"Never really finished anything, except cake." - Carletta Perkins

"Some collect coins. I collect diplomas." - Srini Rajagopalan

"Can my words have footnotes, please?" - Amy Harbottle

"Came, saw, conquered, had second thoughts." - Harold Ramis

"I fell far from the tree." - Rebecca Stadolnik

"I colored outside of the lines." - Jacob Thomas

"Without me, it is just aweso." - Chris Madigan

"I think, therefore I am bald." - Dickie Widjaja

"Even the quietest sounds make noise." - Paul Boggan

"Many hands have kept me afloat." - Nick Flynn

Friday, March 13, 2009

Oh, bother.

I am feeling devastatingly nostalgic tonight.

ABC

"ABC" by Robert Pinsky

Any body can die, evidently. Few
Go happily, irradiating joy,

Knowledge, love. Most
Need oblivion, painkillers,
Quickest respite.

Sweet time unafflicted,
Various world:

X = your zenith.


I am so restless. I can't wait for next week to be over!

Friday, March 6, 2009

GRANDMA

Here is a poem I'm tweaking. I want my Abuelita to read it. I wonder if my aunt can translate?

Grandma

The tablecloth was plastic and yellow;
we ate sliced watermelon in cups with tiny spoons
in the ventilated dining room. It was March.
In my best Spanish, I asked how Grandpa was.
We sat in silence,
smiling.
I wish you could have heard me thinking—
the things I wanted to say.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Dinner Time by Russell Edson

Michelle shared this with us today. It's a good one.

Dinner Time
By Russell Edson

An old man sitting at table was waiting for his wife to serve dinner. He heard her beating a pot that had burned her. He hated the sound of a pot when it was beaten, for it advertised its pain in such a way that made him wish to inflict more of the same. And he began to punch at his own face, and his knuckles were red. How he hated red knuckles, that blaring color, more self-important than the wound.

He heard his wife drop the entire dinner on the kitchen floor with a curse. For as she was carrying it in it had burned her thumb. He heard the forks and spoons, the cups and platters all cry at once as they landed on the kitchen floor. How he hated a dinner that, once prepared, begins to burn one to death, and as if that weren't enough, screeches and roars as it lands on the floor, where it belongs anyway.

He punched himself again and fell on the floor.

When he came awake again he was quite angry, and so he punched himself again and felt dizzy. Dizziness made him angry, and so he began to hit his head against the wall, saying, now get real dizzy if you want to get dizzy. He slumped to the floor.

Oh, the legs won't work, eh? . . . He began to punch his legs. He had taught his head a lesson and now he would teach his legs a lesson.

Meanwhile he heard his wife smashing the remaining dinnerware and the dinnerware roaring and shrieking.

He saw himself in the mirror on the wall. Oh, mock me, will you. And so he smashed the mirror with a chair, which broke. Oh, don't want to be a chair no more; too good to be sat on, eh? He began to beat the pieces of the chair.

He heard his wife beating the stove with an ax. He called, when're we going to eat? as he stuffed a candle into his mouth.

When I'm good and ready, she screamed.

Want me to punch your bun? he screamed.

Come near me and I'll kick an eye out of your head.

I'll cut your ears off.

I'll give you a slap right in the face.

I'll break you in half.

The old man finally ate one of his hands. The old woman said, damn fool, whyn't you cook it first? you go on like a beast — You know I have to subdue the kitchen every night, otherwise it'll cook me and serve me to the mice on my best china. And you know what small eaters they are; next would come the flies, and how I hate flies in my kitchen.

The old man swallowed a spoon. Okay, said the old woman, now we're short one spoon.

The old man, growing angry, swallowed himself.

Okay, said the woman, now you've done it.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Snowboarding

I think snowboarding is the only thing that excites me during the winter months while anticipating summer. I've gotten so much better since I got over my fear of getting hurt and going toeside. My favorite runs are hilly and I got air off a jump. :) This summer I think I'm finally going to learn how to surf. When I think surfing I think longboarding and cruising. When I think snowboarding I think jumps and tricks.

I want to be back on the mountain already.
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