I went camping with twenty-seven people over the weekend, remind me to never do that again. And now I’m achey all over because I tried doing the Soran Bushi one evening and played the Wii the next evening. And I have vodka in my lungs, ask me how it happened (great story).
I’m using one of school’s new iMacs and it’s so beautiful so I went to Vimeo’s HD channel to watch a couple of videos in hi-def and it almost had me in tears and I am breathing so I hard because my heart is pounding so fast because I’m so happy and now I don’t know if anything else can make me feel this way.
A girl I went to school with recently made fourth place in the 2008 Puteri Indonesia pageant. This will do absolutely nothing for my Anti-Stalker Device! She’s a very sweet girl with absolutely no airs about her, and she is every bit as gorgeous (if not more) as she appears in press junket pics. Congrats Raline, your SSV cohorts are proud of you!
“Me? Oh man, no way. I hate kids.
Dig.
“How many do you want?”
Set.
“Uh, none. Weren’t you listening?”
Dig.
“I think you’d be a great mother.”
Set.
“Whatever.”
Spike.
The volleyball hits the ground and rolls to Akiko’s feet. My attention to our session of physical activity is compromised when I get the feeling we are being watched. I take a quick survey of the backyard and my vision stops its wandering ways when I make eye contact with the the neighbor’s kid. She is staring at Akiko and me through a small parting in the fence.
I let out a sigh. I know I have to say hello, because it’s common courtesy. I don’t want to, but I have to save face—if not for me, then for my brethren.
I tighten my vocal chords so the pitch of my voice will not make me come off as the man-lady I am. “Hi,” I say through a smile. “Do you want to come play with us?”
The girl nods and jogs as quickly as her stubby little legs can take her to our open backyard. She approaches us cautiously, one hand tangled in her short golden curls and another fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
“Hi,” I come down to my knees and tilt my head slightly to the side (I read somewhere that tilting your head gives off the impression you are interested in the conversation). “I’m D, and this is my friend Akiko. What’s your name?”
She frees one hand from her hair and fidgets with her pink shirt. “Jasmine,” she says quietly.
“Jasmine, that’s a pretty name. How old are you?”
“Seven.”
Akiko and I spend the next twenty minutes interrogating the child on her family—seven brothers and two sisters!—they live next door, can her brother come over and play when he gets home?
I hear Akiko coo and see her shoulders relax through my peripheral vision. I take it she is taken by the combination of Jasmine’s soft curls, bright blue eyes, and chubby cheeks (I read somewhere that the reason infant humans and animals come out looking conventionally cute is so the alpha male will not feel threatened by it, and therefore will not view it as competition and kill it).
Speaking of alpha males, a young man in a three week-old beard saunters into our backyard. “Jasmine! Do you know your daddy’s been looking for you?”
Jasmine waves goodbye and dashes into her father’s arms. Akiko and I smile at the father, who nods us a thank you. I make a mental note of how young he looks.
I pick up the volleyball and throw it into their air. “Man, I hate kids.”
Set.
Something I seem to excel at is having good-looking people gravitate toward and propagate friendships with me (it’s a polar opposites thing). A side effect of befriending such good-looking people is the amount of gawking and occasional stalking by strangers when we go out. My cohorts are gawked at because they are attractive, and I am gawked at by association. This is a re-telling of one of those moments.
I was with my sister Alana, my friend visiting from Japan Akiko, and my housemate May when we went shopping for barbecue supplies, and barely five minutes into our expedition two men had already set their gunsights on us.
May and I are picking out watermelons when I hear a whistle, a creepy-sounding coo, and what seemed to be a nonchalant “Hey.” I look up to make sure it wasn’t meant for us, and lo and behold, Grandpa Redneck Bob and his early-twenties grandson Crazy Billy are looking in our general direction. Hoping they were looking at someone standing behind us, May and I return to our duties of selecting watermelons.
We hear another “Hey,” and footsteps coming towards us. “Did you have to weigh these?” Grandpa Bob asks, his eyes lingering and moving slowly at us, the melon in my hand, and the melons in the basket.
No, I tell him, nodding towards a sign. Two eighty-four apiece, standard price for everything.
Grandpa Bob nods and keeps a hand in a pocket. “All right.” After staring at the watermelons for a few more seconds, he turns around and walks away slowly, Crazy Billy in tow.
Supergrass Lipdub from tantedhoek on Vimeo.
We jumped on the lipdub bandwagon, yay. Someday I will jump on the Don’t Forget To Deinterlace Your Bloody Video Before Uplading bandwagon, super.
Is the computer a friend or enemy of man? Will it cause hopeless unemployment by speeding automation, that disquieting term that it has brought into the language? Will it devalue the human brain, or happily free it from drudgery? Will it ever learn to think for itself?
I find it absolutely remarkable how we are still asking the same questions. Are we? I’ve linked this 1965 Time article on this site before, and I am doing it again only because it’s such a fascinating read. It amazes me how in the relatively short time that has passed between the publishing of this article and today, we have allowed the computer to progress in leaps and bounds while humankind is still exhibiting some truly backward caveman behavior.
(I wonder if the author thought the year 2008 was going to look like something out of The Jetsons)
I’m at my gate in Singapore, waiting for my 8:00 PM flight to Bangkok! I’m going to see my dear N and spend the night at her place before catching that plane to LAX at 8:00 PM tomorrow night. Good night!
A telephone conversation I had before I left the States for the summer in Singapore.
Me: “Hello?”
J: “Oh god, yes! You’re still in the country! I’m so happy you’re here!”
Me: “…Okay, but you know I leave next week.”
J: “Yeah, but you’re here now!“
A telephone conversation I had before leaving Singapore for school in the States.
Me: “Hello?”
M: “Eh, why are you still here?”
Me: “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
M: “WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS LEAVING ME!”
Dear gents, I’m sorry I couldn’t get to your comments these past few days; it’s poor netiquette and I know better, but I’ve been busy making preparations for my flight back Stateside. It’s been another good month in South East Asia—had plenty of good food, met up with old friends, met up with new ones (Hi Id!), and played a healthy dose of CounterStrike. Boy do I love CounterStrike.
I’m going to travel with something new: a wheelie-rolling-luggage-thing. It’s a pretty big bag, I’m going to have to check it in. I haven’t checked in a bag since September 2007, so this is a pretty momentous occasion for me. Let’s hope I don’t take this habit come Austin City Limits!
Okay. I’m absolutely spent, I’m not sure I have the energy to fall asleep. I’m absolutely spent, I’m not sure I have the creativity to weave a coherent close to this entry.
My Macbook is talking to me and it won’t shut up! What the hell.
