living the dream...

<----------my drafting table, how i love thee!!!!!-------

since i was a wee little girl i have loved to draw. my father would bring home scratch paper from the office for me. i would sit for hours, filling the pages with adventures, great and small.

my dad told me recently that i still have what he called and still calls my "forever-ever" box in his garage--a HUGE cardboard box stuffed with thousands of my scribbles from childhood. i think it's really tender and sweet that he never threw that shit out.

i've always been figurative with my art, drawing adult people in particular...i cant draw a dog worth shit, and even my human babies end up looking like creepy 50 year old men who are two feet tall....and speaking of men, i would ONLY draw men, up until high school. i would draw men camping, and fighting, and super heroes, gladiators, aviators, circus conductors, prison wardens....

i never drew women when i was young. i tried once or twice but i hated it. they looked like freaks of nature. it was men that i loved, men that i loved to draw. i believe now there was something psychologically fucked up about it...or very natural.

i finally began drawing females when i reached high school....and now, most all of my drawings, even when i draw men---they either look like women or are super androgynous.

needless to say, as a child it was one of my dreams to someday be a young adult, living in a loft, sketching at a drafting table above a busy street, sipping some java or vino with edith piaf or some sort of heart breaking operatic score playing in the background. (either that or buried in books piled 15 high at a desk of mahogany with one of those little green lamps, puffing on a pipe sherlock holmes style)

there are few things more romantic to me, than an artist crouched over said table doing said craft of some sort.

i realized recently that these days, these very days, i am already living this particular dream.

what the fuck. gawd damn im already here and i didn't even know it.

now to draw MORE...DO more, and maybe get some gigs.

what dreams are you currently living out?...you tell me.

upon leaving this treehouse? barcelona or bust?

my roommate is moving out in a month...i've been debating between finding a new person to move into this insane one-of-a-kind-circus-called-home with all of my colorful housemates.....or leaving this creaky old victorian which i've grown to love over the past 4 years...and finding a place of my own where i can have privacy for the first time in my life.

both aspects have huge pros and cons. god, i'd miss my bedroom. look at it, so tranquil.

one of the pros to staying put is the cheap price on my current rent. i'd be able to afford returning to spain with the girls in october. (see the silly above video...it might not have uploaded correctly though...we were staying with an adorable clothing designer named blanca in barcelona, and in the video we were at a very small but chic bar named 'vinilo' which projected old movies on the walls and served absinthe by the barrelful---hence the intoxicated singing...)

one of the cons to staying is that i'd have to break-in yet another new potential roomie into this very different sort of living situation. this place is not for everyone, that's for sure---but that's why we love it, i guess. nonetheless, it's a fucking pain in the ass, getting used to living with a complete stranger.

one of the pros to leaving would be that i could take the opportunity to purge myself of all the things i no longer need. i would have a fresh start in a new location and it would be so freeing to have space to call my very own.

but i would be hurting financially and there would be no return trip to spain---and portugal, france and berlin!

sheeeet.

we are the upper class

sitting at the cafe, a group of 5 young mothers approached with their children, ranging from babies in strollers to kids that were about 2 years old.

the women were well dressed, very mainstream, sort of banana republic meets some overpriced boutique in Lohman's plaza...very "the real housewives of greater sacramento"--if there was such a show---and there isn't, thank the lord. it was clear they were having a "girls afternoon out."

my initial thought process was that it was cool, the mothers going to have some coffee together downtown with the kids...the entire thing was quaint. let's make a day trip to downtown, fix up our hair, put on our heels, bring the kids....i always consider it a good thing to see hetero women spending time together away from their men.

fast forward to when they were exiting the cafe (i was sitting outside)...i picked up on the fact that they must've been letting their younguns run all about the place, because evidently they had been told to keep them in check.

clearly they did not like being told what to do, because from that point, i silently sat, listening to every horrible thing that they had to say, pouring like french manicure diarrhea out of their christian dior glossed lips....

"that white trash cashier told ME to watch MY boy?? how dare he???" (who else is supposed to watch your child but you?)

"they are all beatniks anyhow, sitting all hunched over their books, they think they are all european but they sure aren't!" (as if beatniks still exist in great numbers, and what the hell does any of it have to do with europe?)

"i make more money than ALL of them combined!!" (that's good, now go back to granite bay)

the trash talking kept on for awhile, and it was really bad. it was embarassing. i didn't know adults talked like this on a regular basis. call me bright-eyed and stupid but hearing their words really weirded me out. fuck artists this, everybody is so ugly, all of you broke losers, at least i dont work at a CAFE, go listen to your snobby 'cool' music that (i actually thought that one was funny because it's true) it was complete racism (they were all white)/class ism on a financial status level....prejudice obviously, really low shit. great. and to think of all the clientele i have to serve on a nightly basis......i always feel like i know what they are thinking, but until now ive never actually heard it.

it was really tragic, because most all of their insults had to do with how much money they make and how much they assume "people like us" do not. wealth....what has been said is true--you really can't take it with you when you die....so why dont you spend a little less time belittling people less wealthy than you. we dont want your ugly coach purse. we dont. but we are happy that you are happy with it before you rot away into a pile of bones in the earth, slimy and smelly.

the highlight of all the insults came when the obvious leader of the pack said:


"well, whatever. WE are the UPPER class and WE are off on a WEEKDAY AFTERNOON!!!!"

may god have mercy on your soul, and just for the record, i never, EVER have to work during the afternoon, and i'm not rearing a child that is sure to grow up and be a chauvanistic, sheltered menace to society.

good luck....

the darkest hour is just before dawn

<----------(self portrait)-- last night my treehouse home was surrounded by a magestic lightning storm. as the thunder crashed and the entire sky was engulfed holy and bright i was almost certain a huge fireball was going to swallow my bedroom. the storm was INTENSE. i pictured the other thousands upon thousands of people in this here city lying awake in their beds listening to the rain. in my mind's eye i envisioned from an arial perspective, people small as ants, with the rooftops of their homes ripped off, with covers pulled up to their chins, blinking into the black which then would strobe with white as the lightning struck again and again, relentless and spectacular!! we were all in this together.

at some point my entire body broke out into some sort of hive-like situation, perhaps from the electricity in the air (more likely from a food allergy...?) it was very bizzare. very alien.

today my 3rd floor neighbor said last night during the peak of it all she had made her way to the patio at 4 am to wait for me. i didn't know; i never arrived.......and tonight it is i whom is sitting here alone, the weather is still. i am listening to the silence.

table of humiliation

today was my brother's wedding. he married his high school sweetheart whom he has known for almost 15 years. heralding from the days at summer camp where as teenagers they would flirt by throwing sweet-and-low packets at each other to these currents times where they are beginning to settle down in the bay area i have observed them grow, of course fight, and always, be in love---or maybe just obsessed with each other in those passive aggressive sick ways--whatever.

the ceremony was quaint. outdoors in saratoga, peets coffee and fresh fruit was served, the flower girl ran screaming down the aisle not shedding a single rose petal.....my cousin escorted my 95 year old grandmother to her seat, walking so slow, so slow....i was wearing a green and yellow dress from the 1950's; perfect lucille ball at a cocktail party if you will.

i had taken special preparation to look my best---or presentable at least. in the weeks leading up to this day i had been feeling increasingly nervous. i am not close with my family nor any of the church going family friends that i grew up around, and i was not looking to be singled out or judged. ive always been the weird one, etc. the lesbian, the wayward daughter, the list goes on.

needless to say, i had grown my hair out, took care to apply minimal makeup because my mother has been guilty of calling me a whore...you know----just trying to not attract too much unwanted attention. blah blah blah you can say what you will about being yourself, being strong, but shut up i don't wanna hear it. this was my only siblings wedding and i didn't want to be the goth kid in the corner. i wanted to be the bright-eyed happy sister of the groom.

after the marriage stuff went down and all of the chinese traditional activities such as the handing over of family treasures such as gold jewelry and the emotional tea ceremony where the bride and groom knelt before my father and mother and received their blessings....we headed to the restaurant for the chinese banquet dinner.

round tables were setup around the large hall, with people being assigned seats. there were perhaps 300 people in attendance. the tables were numbered. my immediate family was assigned to a prime table with beautiful crystal glassware and proper settings. the table was labeled # 2.

i looked at the chart and i could not find my name at # 2.

with a sinking heart i found my name at the bottom of the list at number # 17.

***in chinese culture this must be pointed out that this is a huge snub***

i went over to my assigned table. it was in the very back of the room against a wall. there was another wall blocking my entire view of the hall.

it was the fucking worst table in the entire place.

i dont know why my brother did not have a place for me at my family's table. it embarrassed me and confused me.

in chinese culture family is everything. i've never been the daughter my mother wanted me to be but i've always tried to do what i can to cause her the least shame as possible. my friends have sometimes asked me why i dont stand up for who i am, and the truth is that they cannot possibly understand because they are not chinese.

the worst part of the night was when my uncle stood up and had the honor of announcing the entire groom's side of the family. first my grandparents where announced, then my father and mother. each time a name was called, the person would stand up and the entire hall would acknowledge them. it was a moment of honor, of being proud to be affiliated with the groom.

when my name was called there was a long silence. nobody could see me. i stood, embarrassed, probably one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. finally when i waved my hands around a bit, people noticed where i was and i knew what they were thinking---why wasn't the only daughter sitting at the honorable table? tables tables tables you might be thinking...why do i care about tables? ahh but i do, but i did.

after dinner in chinese custom the bride changes from her white wedding dress to a red chinese silk gown. she then will go from table to table with the immediate family from both sides to toast champagne and take photos. i should have been there by the side of my father but in the hustle and bustle i wasn't invited. there is not a single photo of me to prove that i was present. during this time i went to my grandmother's side to visit with her and my grandfather whom i hadn't seen in months. they were as confused as i was as to why i was at such a dishonorable table.

finally i approached my brother to congratulate him. he had hardly spoken to me all day. i dont know if he was ignoring me or if he was distracted, but he hardly said a word...so i left quietly as they were cutting the cake and now i am sitting on my porch home from damned saratoga feeling pretty damn depressed.

i feel as distant from my family as i have ever. i will never have a proud wedding like he. i will never have a chance to put him in a dank corner...nor would i do something such as this to him, ever.

family is about saving face. it's about honor. it's never about love it seems. not with my family. it really breaks my heart because up until the dinner, i was thinking for the first time in years how proud i was to be called a chang not a tanaka.

bearded ladies, floods, and blood

gorgeous afternoon, maybe 80 degrees.

where have all the bearded ladies gone?

you tell me.

last night was fairly ridiculous. first at work the bar began to seep water followed by a FLOOD gushing out from both bar drains, destroying the entire ambiance of the restaurant at the time and emptying us of customers. we were feverishly armed with a shop vac, buckets, bus tubs, and two mops to no decent avail. water was there to destroy. still, the show had to go on, as the entire courtyard and patio was bustling with merrymakers and hookah-aholics.

pathetically the girls and i slipped and slided, carrying our trays far above our heads, lighting the damn flaming tetilla fireballs, feeling sorry for the damp belly dancers. it was disgusting but at least it wasn't boring.

after a plumber was called and the catastrophe subsided i eventually clocked out and went to get a night cap with my roommate.

after last call we made our way back towards home only to pass a dark parking lot on J st where there was a lot of screaming and commotion.

we observed a stocky man shove a woman to the pavement where she struck her head on the concrete and lay still. another woman was on the man's back trying to pull him away as he turned and hit another male in the face repeatedly.

erin and i intervened, told the offending male to leave, the whole time saying "hey we are not involved, just get in your car and scram"...finally they did so, 2 males and 2 females.

the remaining people left were of the victim's party, 2 women and the bleeding male. he had a broken nose surely, and there was plenty of blood to be had. both women had been punched or shoved in the process, and the man was sobbing, out for the count. he was shirtless as was one woman.

erin had taken the license plate of the offenders and i ran to luigi's to get some water and napkins. as i pushed my way through the throng of intoxicated pizza lovers, people laughed at me as i took as many flimsy paper napkins as i could snatch.

once back at the parking lot it took over half an hour for a reluctant squad car to approach the scene and only after he was flagged down on k st.

long story short, charges were pressed and i hope tonight will be better than last.

damn santogold brings the crazies.

im joining the throng

greeting to all of you out there in cyber space. im giving a shot to this blog page in honor of having purchased my first laptop a month ago. it's 5:21 am and i'd give anything to be back in berlin jumping on a trampoline with lauren instead of lying in bed unable to sleep while hearing the birds chirp outside my window. im feeling a need to travel.........goodnight. -cheers!-