I will be blunt. I am currently not intending to backlog-update my blog. I know I promised and I'm dying to show the world and keep my memories of Thailand, Malaysia, China, Stonehenge and prehistoric civilizations, the gardens and castles of the UK, and my lonely trip through Scotland. But I currently can't. I miss this blog so much, but I cannot listen to my passions right now. No more enrichment for the time being, which is sad because I know procrastinating on life choices and things that mean the most to me will probably be regretted. Oh well...I've already accepted that my spirit and personality has become muted.
This weekend I've decided, I hate Los Angeles...I hate it so much it hurts. It's ugly, disappointing, and gaaaar. Now, the ugliness...whatever. I embrace ugly. To the contrary, I would love to dance amongst ugly. But alas...I cannot.
L.A., you're so disappointing. Everyone hears so much about L.A. It supposedly has everything. This is supposed to be the place where there's cool shops, nice beaches, chill people, a glittering nightlife, you know...something. But where are they?! I don't know.
All I do here is sit in my little piece of the ghetto, dying to explore, to be free...but am trapped in location as well as in spirit. Even when I do try to explore this city, I draw upon utter disappointment. It frustrates me because I know that L.A. is so cool, with hidden spots of intrigue and an integration of unique cultures. But I can never tap it. I can never find it. My high expectations are never fulfilled. The last few times that my experiences exceeded expectations feels like so long ago...Laie, Hawaii/Yorkshire, England/Beijing, China/Mongkok, HK. I miss those times so much...where I just feel like skipping around, reflecting about life, or gasping, "Oh my goodness. Why are you so beautiful?"
And I mean, I get that some. Friday I went to the famous Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles, where trans fat in arteries meets diabetes. And it was amazing to sit under those pink florescent lights amongst obese minorities, dipping fried chicken in maple syrup while talking about life, manwhores, and creating ephemeral beauty within an art piece, like drawing on the shower glass after a hot shower just to watch its message dissipate slowly. Friday was a day of disappointments, but also of inspirations to pull myself back out from it. I will skip over the disappointments because I hate hating L.A. It's not my personality, but it's what I've become...a hater. I must remember that there have been a few inspiring times coming back in this ghetto home. The complaining must stop...at least for awhile. I've had some good times?
- Immersing myself in ghetto fab at the cheap, gold sequined store across from Roscoe's with girls equally enthralled with, I want to say ugly, but it's probably more accurate to say "culture" (aka. L.A. sweatshop clothes stolen/sold out to vendor stalls run by a 40 year old man who truly thought this stuff was currently fashionable.)
- Narcolpsying under California's golden rays and getting a tan (more like multiple, weird tan lines) after smelling roses instead of reading my cases as intended.
- Eating the best, cheap burrito in another ghetto, (randomly located between Hollywood and Melrose Place) while slopping on "guacamole" and being serenaded to by two men in sombreros.
- Finding a B-ranked, Thai restaurant after walking for 40 minutes after getting off the incorrect bus stop, taking two wrong buses and misinterpreting that most of Melrose is not full of vintage shops.
- Seeing the passion of being a Trojan, from its poor and intoxicated students, to its highest donors and celebrities who get their hot dogs and pretzels delivered by an idealized, bronzed and brilliant Trojan student (me) through the watching of a sport of dancing to protect an animal-skin-covered, oblong object.
- Experimenting with culinary talents...if you ever eat my food you probably don't want to know how I made it. My last ingenious culmination included oyster sauce, peanut butter, oranges, vegetables, and (peach) yogurt...
- Pretending to speak British again with the use of words such as mingin' (butt ugly), wagwan (hello, ghetto British), and righty-o. In the same sense, inserting random Chinese like waaai? (hello?), wo hen ben (I'm obtuse), and random las (i.e. I am ok, la. You are weird, la.) to unsuspecting people in conversations. Now, however...I have been adapting to my Mexican Spanish surroundings to say mui caro (way too expensive, mister) and my all time favorite, no bueno (no good!).
- Communicating with people that I'm missing or will miss. Whether it's people that sleep two steps away from me or people that sleep 7,500,433 steps, 640,500,000 freestyle strokes and half a day away from me. It's nice to hear your vocal mannerisms or read your one-person-in-the-world-type of humor.
- Realizing that I'm going through something that I keep telling myself will make me stronger.
I cross my fingers. But now realize that I should've been researching my future (Peace Corps vs. domestic job vs. work abroad vs. golddigging), and implementing good student qualities. Crap, I just re-realized that I'm behind in life. Hasta luego!
