Sometimes I feel stuck in this abomination of a container- this body. I feel like I cannot connect with anyone or anything and it makes me angry and frustrated at everyone and myself.

I think I was upset at the latter birthday party that I had to attend this evening because I felt that great disconnect. And it made more and more self conscious and uncomfortable to the point where I had to keep my head down to avoid a massive nervous breakdown. I was afraid to look at people in the eye because I felt they could sense that inherent awkwardness – that alien feeling of forced socialization where I cannot even pretend to enjoy pithy conversations about random things that don’t interest me. Sometimes I can do it, but for some unknown reason, I just couldn’t do it.

In an effort to figure out why this happened, I retraced everything that happened today. It could have been that extremely greasy meal. Maybe because Steven hadn’t made the plans very clear (also there was a last minute change of plans to the first birthday dinner). Perhaps when I was talking to Katayoun, I realized how enjoyable it was to be with someone who was intellectually stimulating (even if at times she was painfully neurotic) because I didn’t feel forced to put on any of my social masks. I feel like I connect with very very few people, and it is so sad that Katayoun, being one of them, does not live in this area.

At the end of the night, I just felt very upset at everything and everyone and wanted to go home. I don’t feel like a fit member of society, and it’s an awful feeling to have.

Did you guys know that there was a Supermoon last night?

The biggest Supermoon is supposed to occur about 39 years from now. I will be 67 years old by then. It makes me sad to think about a time so far into the future. Will I even still be alive? What about my brother and dad? My dad will be about a hundred years old by that time.

I have a huge test tomorrow and I don’t know what I’m doing. People have been telling me, “you’re a smart girl, you can do this” and “I have faith in you” etc, but the truth is, when you’re fighting off a heavy cloud of depression, it’s not so easy to memorize things and maintain a clear head for learning. People don’t factor that in when they are thinking “oh you can do this” – don’t they know that I just want to hide under my bed and never go out again?! It’s so hard to push those irritating feelings aside and focus. I can’t focus even under pressure.

I am frustrated with myself for the lack of concentration and focus.

No need for any explanation, get your friends and family to sign the petition!!

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/956/648/940/save-futurama-again/

Things feel like they are caving in – it’s hard to describe, but I feel like I’m too tired to keep going. I just want to give up. I know I shouldn’t though.

My dad bought me a new car last Sunday because he said that my previous car will be worth close to nothing in two years. We traded it in for a Prius C, which I’m very happy with. I’ve already driven 200 miles in it and I still have half a tank of gas left. Normally I’d have to fill the tank again, or very soon. So amazing! Plus it’s nice to finally have Bluetooth and be able to talk on the phone through my car instead of ignoring calls during long commutes.

I got this email from one of my best friends from Holland named Katayoun saying that she just landed in LA this morning. I am so excited beyond belief that I can barely study now!

I think I almost started crying because I thought about how much we went through together in Amsterdam – we were so broke and destitute and we were always mending our broken hearts over shared cups of cappuccino. I’m not sure how she’s doing nowadays, but I am just so excited she’s here in LA so that we can catch up and talk!

The only time I feel alive is when I believe he is thinking about me.

I went to eat dinner with Helen tonight and she asked “Have you seen the Bubble Butt video yet?” 

When I heard the “Bubble Butt” song by Major Lazer a few weeks ago, I thought it was a very weird song and told all of my friends about it. Apparently the music video is out for it now. 

My internet has been lagging like insanely badly for the past few days, so I it took me forever to watch this video. I’m not sure what I just watched. I guess I’m just amazed at how different some people’s bodies can turn out – from ectomorphic flat assery to a full on…well, fully fleshed out bubble butt.

This video was very unique and though not quite my musical taste, I have to appreciate the artistry that went into displaying bubble butts. It reminds me of a few other wacky and weird music videos…

Prodigy – Smack My B*tch Up (uncensored, NSFW!!!)

This is the uncensored cut from one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite childhood albums, The Fat of the Land by Prodigy.

Marilyn Manson – Beautiful People

MM has a lot of controversial music and beliefs. I don’t necessarily agree with them, but I think his inherent personality is quite similar to mine (upon reading his biography, Long Road Out of Hell). The Beautiful People mv reminds me of the 90′s when MTV was really all about cool music videos. Now all they have are dumb reality tv shows. I wish and would rather they had some interesting documentaries interspersed with music videos instead. That would be my perfect channel. I’ve been really into documentaries lately. 

Yeah, I’m sure there are a lot of other weird music videos, but those were the ones off the top of my head, or the ones that really made an impression on me to make me remember them. Nirvana’s Teen Spirit also comes to mind, with the melancholic janitor dancing along to the song. I think those videos have always struck a chord within me because I feel like that weird outsider that can only connect with other weirdos. 

Helen was telling me that on the bus the other day, a guy came up to her and asked her, “How long have you lived in the U.S.?” She was a bit shocked at the question having already made some polite small talk with this guy earlier, and then later got mad about it. “Do I look like a fob?!” she asked me. No, actually, Helen looks like any other American Asian. That question infuriated her because she felt that the said guy only asked her that question because she was Asian. “I was born here!” She told him. “Oh!” He was surprised.

I immediately asked her “Was he an old white guy?” to which she said “No, he was an old Asian guy.” His question made her mad because she felt that the only reason he asked her that question was because she was Asian. Given his fluency in English, he should have understood inherently that it’s a large possibility that she was born here. We realized it was annoying because not only was it racism, but it was racism from our own kind. That question by itself is already annoying on so many levels: what do you imply by asking this question? Do you know that this is the only home I’ve ever known? Some of us have never even set foot in Asia. It’s not that we don’t want any connection with our “roots” but it’s like asking an African American if he’s been back to Africa lately. No? And why would he? This is his home! This is when I realize that the typical image of an American is not as inclusive of Asians or Brown people (aka Mexicans) as they are of ethnicities on the extremes of the color spectrum (black or white). Not sure about that? Next time watch when you ask yourself “how long have they been here?” and then find out that they are (shockingly) born and raised here – maybe even their parents too!

I can’t say that I’m free of racism against other Asian people either. In particular, I get very annoyed when people from China or Asia come here and act like this place is an extension of their homeland. No, this is America, you should learn English, learn the culturally accepted norms of public behavior (aka not spitting everywhere in public), stop talking so loudly everywhere you go, etc. I’m all for diversity, but it really bothers me when people live in another country permanently and don’t try to integrate.

I think that’s what really annoyed me when I lived in Holland, which is not really a culture used to immigrants (as much as they’d like to believe they are). Everywhere I’d go people would ask me what part of Asia I was from. Well, I’d tell them, I grew up in Los Angeles and I was born in Louisiana, but my parents were from Taiwan if that’s what you mean. Telling people that, you’d have thought I was telling them the biggest secret of the universe. Their eyes would get all big and then they’d ask “so what language do you speak? Taiwanese? Thai?” That is when I mentally shoot myself with my internal rainbow pistol.

Helen was telling me that she wanted to move to New York, and I was saying that I would go with her after I finished my studies. However, I get very depressed when I think about traveling (actually when I think about anything), so perhaps I should just not go. I’ve already told Steven that if I fail everything, I’m going to move to an island and never see or talk to anyone else ever again. He gave me this sad and fearful look and asked “what am I going to do without you?” I replied “I guess you could come with me.” “But what would we do there?” “I don’t know…throw coconuts at each other?”

My dad says when you wake up everyday, you should look in the mirror and laugh a hearty laugh. I know I’m misinterpreting, but I feel that I do laugh at myself whenever I look at the mirror. I see a woman scorned, someone who lost all hope in life, doesn’t want to be around anymore, and just a tired old fool. Why am I even still around?

I have a test today (it’s 1:33 am) and I can’t sleep because I’ve had too much caffeine.

I was wondering how many people out there ever think about people they once loved. I was thinking about a Greek ex boyfriend who lived in Germany. I wonder if he ever thinks about me and how often. I wonder about my Japanese ex whom I not only loved but idolized intensely for almost a year. Do these people ever remember you at all? Because sometimes the love is so unfair and unbalanced between two people. In the case of my Greek ex, he loved me so much more than I loved him that I felt as though it pushed me away. The opposite was true of my Japanese ex: he could decide not to talk to me for weeks whereas I felt that I could not breathe if I did not talk to him at least once a day.

My mom told me that it is better to marry someone who loves you a little more than you love the person. At first, I felt sad and disagreed with her, but now I understand what she means. In fact, a woman I respect and admire recently told me the exact same thing using almost the exact same words.

But I wonder what it’s like to be a man who marries a woman he knows doesn’t love him as much as he loves her? I know I would probably feel uncomfortable with the situation. I want to be madly in love with the person and I also want the other person to feel the same way towards me.