What's love got to do with it?
My trip to Philly was nice, and Amal got me the fantastic milk frother that's been on my wish list forever. So I got my dose of urban culture, not to mention some decent Indian food at Cafe Spice, but today I woke up so cold and the weather looked so miserable outside that I just stayed put, which led me to waste good many hours on the Waste Land, i.e. the Internet.
I've always been sort of a random suff(surf)erer [sic]--and to my credit I discover some of the most interesting tidbits of knowledge/insight from this habit of mine--but today it was just flat-out depressing and as a consequence you are reading my semi-coherent vent below.
There was the journal of a 28-year old Asian architect from Los Angeles that I randomly clicked through from my LJ friends' list, fairly good-looking, in a tortured-artist kinda way, but apparently utterly incapable of finding love because of his incredible shallowness. I was sorely tempted to write him a note and tell him that on top of my list was a guy who can spell...because you guessed it, he can't...but that would have been unjustifiably vicious--blame my unstable hormones.
His endless chronicles of clubbing and womanizing (or at least obsessing about them) hit a little too close to home, because he happened to bear a slight resemblance to my puppy love Jason, and I was all too aware that his k-town club-hopping, #-stats-gathering, bashing-ugly-girls nightlife was exactly what my former friends must be doing with their time back in Orange County, even as I write this. He inadvertently saddened and frustrated me, because I firmly and idealistically believed that everyone would move on, grow up, and realize there's more to life than that (although I couldn't tell you just what that may be, I just know there's much more). I thought it was all in adolescent fun, something we'd grow out of and chuckle about in our more self-indulgent moods.
I shouldn't be judging anyone, certainly, because I've been there, and I've been one of the worst. After a school dance, which was just a pre-packaged excuse for us to fool our parents and get royally pissed and fuck like bunnies (activities I did not participate in, but witnessed plenty of in my teenage years), we'd go to a local Korean club--Five Seasons. We had our token "Ugly" girl (I know, and it gets worse) of the group, who had arrived at the club early and seated herself and her friend with a group of older (I guess they were about 19...heh) Taiwanese "gang" members...I forget all those acronyms now, except for KPB (Korean Play Boys)and ABC...no longer remember what that stands for...doubt it's "american born chinese," though.
The boys in our group got angry that our Korean girls were sitting with these "Chink mofos" who had no business being in a Korean club in the first place and demanded their return to our table, even as they were cracking jokes about how ugly the girls were. Hearing their insulting remarks, the *strapping* Taiwanese men revealed that they were, indeed, strapped. Our idiotic dates, including mine, were immeditely backing out and looking scared and, well, very 16. So we fairly ran out, got into our cars, and drove the hell away as the scary Chinese men stormed out of the club and began banging on our car windows with their fists as we were backing out of the parking lot.
My date, Charles, punched the car window in staged fury-, skinning his knuckles in the process. I nursed his hand, whispering sweet-nothings into his ear which I no longer remember how to do. He then switched gears to a valiant, wounded hero, kissing back my hand and assuring me that everything was gonna be fine.
At the moment, I thought this was all pretty damn dramatic and sweet and, that's right, kinda cool.
But goddammit, I was sixteen, and the silliness of the situation struck me not long before the night had passed.
So...reading about this architect's misadventure of meeting a drop-dead gorgeous girl, "5'7 or 8, 110, long ass legs, nice fake boobs" (only Asian men from S. Cali will describe girls like this without a hint of irony) who turned out to be a 19 year old, was fucking DEPRESSING.
Ho-hum. Time for some chocolate... =/
I've always been sort of a random suff(surf)erer [sic]--and to my credit I discover some of the most interesting tidbits of knowledge/insight from this habit of mine--but today it was just flat-out depressing and as a consequence you are reading my semi-coherent vent below.
There was the journal of a 28-year old Asian architect from Los Angeles that I randomly clicked through from my LJ friends' list, fairly good-looking, in a tortured-artist kinda way, but apparently utterly incapable of finding love because of his incredible shallowness. I was sorely tempted to write him a note and tell him that on top of my list was a guy who can spell...because you guessed it, he can't...but that would have been unjustifiably vicious--blame my unstable hormones.
His endless chronicles of clubbing and womanizing (or at least obsessing about them) hit a little too close to home, because he happened to bear a slight resemblance to my puppy love Jason, and I was all too aware that his k-town club-hopping, #-stats-gathering, bashing-ugly-girls nightlife was exactly what my former friends must be doing with their time back in Orange County, even as I write this. He inadvertently saddened and frustrated me, because I firmly and idealistically believed that everyone would move on, grow up, and realize there's more to life than that (although I couldn't tell you just what that may be, I just know there's much more). I thought it was all in adolescent fun, something we'd grow out of and chuckle about in our more self-indulgent moods.
I shouldn't be judging anyone, certainly, because I've been there, and I've been one of the worst. After a school dance, which was just a pre-packaged excuse for us to fool our parents and get royally pissed and fuck like bunnies (activities I did not participate in, but witnessed plenty of in my teenage years), we'd go to a local Korean club--Five Seasons. We had our token "Ugly" girl (I know, and it gets worse) of the group, who had arrived at the club early and seated herself and her friend with a group of older (I guess they were about 19...heh) Taiwanese "gang" members...I forget all those acronyms now, except for KPB (Korean Play Boys)and ABC...no longer remember what that stands for...doubt it's "american born chinese," though.
The boys in our group got angry that our Korean girls were sitting with these "Chink mofos" who had no business being in a Korean club in the first place and demanded their return to our table, even as they were cracking jokes about how ugly the girls were. Hearing their insulting remarks, the *strapping* Taiwanese men revealed that they were, indeed, strapped. Our idiotic dates, including mine, were immeditely backing out and looking scared and, well, very 16. So we fairly ran out, got into our cars, and drove the hell away as the scary Chinese men stormed out of the club and began banging on our car windows with their fists as we were backing out of the parking lot.
My date, Charles, punched the car window in staged fury-, skinning his knuckles in the process. I nursed his hand, whispering sweet-nothings into his ear which I no longer remember how to do. He then switched gears to a valiant, wounded hero, kissing back my hand and assuring me that everything was gonna be fine.
At the moment, I thought this was all pretty damn dramatic and sweet and, that's right, kinda cool.
But goddammit, I was sixteen, and the silliness of the situation struck me not long before the night had passed.
So...reading about this architect's misadventure of meeting a drop-dead gorgeous girl, "5'7 or 8, 110, long ass legs, nice fake boobs" (only Asian men from S. Cali will describe girls like this without a hint of irony) who turned out to be a 19 year old, was fucking DEPRESSING.
Ho-hum. Time for some chocolate... =/