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Wed | August 31, 2005
bah
I have started to read the Tale of Genji. It's actually quite interesting.
I don't think I need to read, though, as much as I need to write. I mean I think my reading skills and critiquing skills are much better than my writing skills (sad, but true) and I should really just be writing more. Yet I feel obligated to read. So I will. I'll do it all. Whatever. I am resentful, though, because I think the advice is not really so relevant to me.
I have more to say but I have to go now.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:50 PM | comment
Mon | August 29, 2005
lunatic in my writing class
There is a woman in my writing class who is such a lunatic. She finally turned in a story last Saturday, the eighth class out of ten, and the story is disjointed and sketchy, and it is just sentences. I mean, the sentences don't connect. She probably thinks they do but they don't. They don't disconnect in any particular way either. I mean they are about a person's life-- a thinly veiled version of herself, no doubt-- and it's just a list of random memories, I think. There is all this crazy stuff in her piece. I can't even say it. Some of it is just disgusting things I don't want to know about her.
I always give people too much credit, too much benefit of the doubt. I thought she was clueless but I never committed to it because I thought there was a small possiblity that she could be a genius. In retrospect there was no possibility. Her comments on stories have always been awful. In class we go around the room and each say one positive and one negative thing about the story. It's my least favorite part of class but I go along with it. Her comment always is, "I liked it." She says this about every story. I mean a lot of people say that in class and it is just really annoying, and the main reason why I don't like that part of class. I think of it as the "torture" segment because I have to listen to one uninsightful comment after another. But it's even worse with her because she says it in a deadpan voice. She says it as if she really thinks it is an informative comment. Or I don't know, it's worse just because she is saying it. Then she reads random phrases from the story without commenting on where they are or why they're being read. "I liked it," and then as she flips through the story, "peeling away like weathered paint." flip, flip. "glistened with sweat." flip. "ignorant but comforting reply."
When it's my turn to critique this I'd like to say, in that same voice, "I liked it." Then flip through and repeat some of the disgusting things she said.
She looks crazy too. Her glasses are always askew. Her mouth is always gaping. I try not to make eye contact with her. She just stares at you for no reason. One day she brought a can of pineapple— the large size, like a 16 oz can, not the little serving size— and ate the whole thing during break.
Speaking of crazy, my teacher told us for the second time that we should read a book a day. That's just a different sort of crazy. I hate it when people give me bad advice. I can't read a book a day and I don't think I should feel obligated to. If I read a book in a week I would pat myself on the back and take a break for two weeks to gloat over my accomplishment. But I can't help listening to people, and now I am afraid I will feel obligated to read a book a day, and feel guilty when I don't. And I don't need any more guilt. I feel guilty enough already for all the time that has passed. I really don't need any more of that. She said all these things on Saturday that sort of appeal to this work ethic that I no longer have. Like that it might be years before we get any success. That it takes 2-6 years to write a novel. Or something like that. It was years, I know that much. What if that many years passes and you realize you haven't done anything? I feel like that estimate is how long it takes someone, looking back after they're finished, but do you really plan for that? It makes me feel like just waiting the time out and a novel will magically appear. Except it won't and then I'll be like, dammit. No, I will keep on writing my little stories and occasionally putting them up here or there, and I don't know about the whole publishing thing, but I can't think about it. I just can't deal. I will do my best to forget all she said.
journal | Posted by Lily at 12:44 PM | comment
Sun | August 28, 2005
the new jersey party
Went to a party last night in NJ, the culmination of which was that three Irish dudes moved a couch from the upstairs apartment (where the party was) to my friend's apartment below. The host was moving to England and was giving stuff away, apparently. He was one of those guys who is so nice you worry about him getting taken advantage of. He said his boss was Taiwanese. I thought that is why he is still such a nice guy. I don't know more than that. I wonder what his job is. There was not much chance to find out. The party was like Napoleon Dynamite. But with Irish dudes-- one with a legitimate Irish accent-- and a handful of random people. It was sparse. Very suburban. Even the parties remind you of sprawl. Kind of spread out, and not very pretty. The apartment itself was awesome though. It had lofty ceilings, and was formerly the gym- a basketball court with hardwood floors- at a church. There were two small bedrooms in a balcony above and most of the space in the apartment was the living area below.
In deciding whether to go to this thing, I had asked my friend how old the host was, and she said in his late 20's. He was in his late 30's or even early 40's. And I am not one to mishear "twenties" for "thirties." I have never heard of someone lying about someone else's age. Or, perhaps, misjudging someone's age so grossly. I am not the best at judging people's ages but this one was easy. He had a combover, or the beginnings of one; at any rate his hair had grown thin. His skin and complexion were well into their thirties. There was no doubt about it.
journal | Posted by Lily at 11:39 AM | comment
Fri | August 26, 2005
town website
so I discovered that my town has a website
http://www.chathamborough.org/
and it is way better than the township's website
http://www.chathamtownship.org/
liens | Posted by Lily at 05:48 PM | comment
so you think you can dance
I think you should either follow a show or not. There is no point in being only vaguely familiar with what is going on. So I was at the point on Wednesday of either going home to watch the show or deciding I didn't really want to see it, and I decided to go home and watch it. I have also done just a bit of research on the internet on my favorites, Melody and Ryan. And added my own bit of the internet in the form of this blog entry (which I don't think comes up on search engines). In short, I am committed to this show ^_^
I didn't have much of a choice, because the other option would have been to swear it off completely. Which I don't think I could have done. At best I would have still watched once in awhile, which is that worse position of being vaguely familiar with a show. Because then you've wasted your time. You haven't seen enough that you can really analyze it and know what's going on. I think that is why I ended up following the apprentice but not survivor-- I just didn't catch any of the survivor episodes when it was beginning, and it was too hard to figure it out later. with the apprentice I have watched it from the beginning, so I can follow its development. i don't think i will watch martha's apprentice though. Anyway-
Melody Lacayanga was so misguided in her solo dance at the end. It was way too sexy. or tried to be. but whatever. I don't want to analyze it too much. The show is just fun to watch. If they made a dance exercise DVD I'd be so into that. I have this one dance DVD by crunch and it's my favorite exercise video.
Livres, films, TV | Posted by Lily at 12:59 AM | comment
Thu | August 25, 2005
Field of Flowers
This assignment was to write the story in a painting.
Claudia sat on the fold-up stool and looked at her daughter in the field of flowers. Her daughter Veronica had retained her figure despite having had a child. The boy, now four, played with Marie's six-year old daughter. They tumbled in the grass. They wrestled, and the girl straddled the boy in pure innocence.
Her daughter wore a pastel blue dress which flattered her graceful figure. Claudia had helped her choose the dress when they were at the shop in town. It matched the blue lavendar in the field. She could not make out her daughter’s facial expression, however. It was a blur. Claudia’s sight was deteriorating. The children were mere shapes in the grass. She saw that behind them, there were three slender trees with tall, dark trunks, but the leaves were indistinct patches of green and blue.
Veronica carried a parasol which completed the picture for Claudia. But for Veronica the purpose of the parasol was not to look beautiful, but to shield herself from the sun. Veronica was practical. She had been told since a young age that she was beautiful, and thus thought little of it.
"Veronica," she called. "I am getting old," she said as her daughter approached. She knew that this bothered her daughter but she could not help it. It had become as natural as 'hello' or 'how are you' and she could not open a conversation otherwise.
"Stop saying that," said Veronica. "You are the healthiest sixty-year old woman in the world."
"What would you like to have for dinner?" Claudia asked.
"I’d like to try that bistro we saw in the town," said Veronica.
"Ah yes. I am going to order the duck. And afterwards we can go to the theater. Marie will take care of the children."
An artist had come to the field and the children gathered around to observe him. Soon their little hands grasped at the pastel charcoals and the frenchman courteously prevented them. "Désolé," said Veronica as she swept both of the children up in her arms and took them away.
As they departed Claudia remarked, "When I was young I wanted to be a painter."
"I never knew that your appreciation of art had that connection," said Veronica.
"I was very young. Until I was ten, twelve, and a little beyond that. I liked to draw. I drew and I painted all day, for hours on end. When I was not drawing or painting I was imagining how I would draw or paint whatever was around me."
"And what happened?"
"Nothing. I was a child. My mother told me I spent too much time with my drawings and I should spend more time socializing with friends. So I did."
"I liked to draw a bit too, when I was a child."
"I was pleased when you took that on. But you did not continue. Did you ever want to be an artist?"
"No, I thought of it as a small hobby."
"I would have given my life to it, and not known it had passed."
"I am sure you would have made a fine artist, mom." She had not received the intended impact of her mother's statement. Like many people, Veronica did not take the talk of elderly people very seriously— especially not her own mother's. This is how Claudia knew she was getting old— she could say anything.
"If your child shows any inclination for art you will encourage him."
"Of course."
They walked through the field of flowers. The golds and the greens were like an enchanted land in a fairy tale. She marvelled anew that her daughter, herself so exquisite, did not feel inspired and uplifted in the presence of beauty. Veronica did not notice things. The frenchman had thrown her a mischievous look but she had barely seen him. They progressed slowly. The mother and daughter walked in a straight line, and the children ran ahead and around them in all directions.
Claudia and her daughter had taken this trip to France for her sixtieth birthday. They were in Provence, away from the asphalt they saw daily in Pennsylvania. At the edge of the field they sat waiting for the car that would take them into town.
"I am weak," said the mother.
"You've had too much sun," said the daughter.
"That's not what I mean," said Claudia. "I am weak in spirit. I never had the audacity to do what I wanted. I found a decent man to marry and I married him. Then I lived a mundane life of petty, trivial problems. How to arrange the furniture in the living room. What kind of toaster to get. The things to cook for dinner. How to liven up the salad. I know a million variations on the theme of dinner."
"That's what life is."
"I wonder if I could have been a painter. A great one. I was afraid to even try. And you- have no such desire."
"I have a great appreciation for art but I have no desire to create it myself. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"No, nothing at all," said Claudia. She saw the car approaching at a distance and nodded towards it. "Let's go have that duck."
Histoires | Posted by Lily at 02:23 PM | comment
C said on Feb 6, 07 03:15 PM:
I thought the story would more interesting if you focused more on the theme of the child missing the point of most of what her mother is saying. A commentary on how we often hear but do not listen. But, don't point this out in the story. Make the reader figure it out.
Or maybe that's what you are trying to say. That last line with the mother saying - Let's go have that duck - is her giving up trying to get her point across to the child.
Tue | August 23, 2005
journal
I have been doing ok, despite not having much social contact. All I ask of myself is that I write a little every day and improve bit by bit. And I try to have fun and enjoy it, because that is a better motivator than anything. Last week I wasted some time being anxious about things, and that is never productive. I think part of it was my K class, but I think I should just not worry about them. The more I can marginalize that in my mind the better. I actually perform better when nothing is at stake. I have class tonight, we'll see what effect it has on me. Last week things were going fine until K kicked in.
So far I have had an ok day, and yesterday was fine also. I 'finished' a story and even did an exercise video just now. Tomorrow I will go to the city in the morning, I don't know whether the very early train or perhaps a little later (prolly a little later) and I will write in K-town for a few hours. I need to get out of the house every so often. Plus I have an errand of sorts to run, and it's kind of a waste of time, but I will make the most of it. At least it will be a change of pace. Then I will come home in time to watch tv. I have decided to let myself watch tv, occasionally, without guilt. But watching tv to kill time or avoid doing other things is not acceptable. It's a fine line between giving yourself a break and just wasting your time.
journal | Posted by Lily at 02:53 PM | comment
Sun | August 21, 2005
roommates
I don’t know why I wrote this. It has no place except here.
Whenever Shawn had a disagreement with Lauren, he said, "we’ll flip for it." Lauren always called tails. She always lost. The coin was double-headed. Shawn had gotten it awhile ago from a street vendor on Houston Street. When he saw it, he knew it would be good on her, because she always called tails.
"Let’s get a new couch," she had been saying. When he got home he went over to the couch and exaggerated his search for a good spot to sit. He sat demonstrably on the worn springs, letting his feet up in the air to show how low he sank. Sure enough she said it again. "Let’s flip for it," he said, taking out the coin.
It didn’t happen often enough for her to suspect. In this way he saved himself a couple of hundred of dollars he would have spent splitting the cost of a new couch, a 7 am run to the grocery store for milk, and Texas barbecue instead of pizza one Saturday night.
One day she said, "you always use a penny. Use a quarter." And sure enough, she won. From then on they always used a quarter.
Histoires | Posted by Lily at 05:24 PM | comment
things I like that I'm too old to like, or are not directed at me
1. avril lavigne's "fall to pieces"
2. "so you think you can dance"'s ryan conferido
that's it so far. but that's enough to keep me going a little while. I don't need very much sometimes.
and by "I like ryan" I mean, I think he is cool and I hope he wins. he has this the-thing-I-want-to-do-is-not-approved-by-my-culture thing going.
I don't want to talk about it. I don't want a conversation. Cause I'm in love with you...
Livres, films, TV | Posted by Lily at 12:39 AM | comment
Fri | August 19, 2005
horrid week
oh well. at least it's raining. i like rain.
my maruchan instant cup o noodles, roast chicken flavor, had something like actual bits of chicken in it. this was disconcerting. where did the chicken come from?
I was going to hang out with L this afternoon but she bailed on me. I have been surfing the net and emailing. hopefully i will get some reading and maybe some writing done tonight. and i suppose I could try the 'homework' assignment for class. there isn't much sense that you really have to do those assignments though, so there isn't much motivation. i've done them all so far. last week I forgot my folder though so didn't turn it in. I guess I should try it. it is to use the length of sentences and pacing to influence the mood of the passage. two pages. fuuuunn. friday.
I tried to visit Phil the karate dude but he wasn't around.
journal | Posted by Lily at 05:29 PM | comment
Wed | August 17, 2005
today
so I slept most of the day today, though I tried valiantly to resist. it was sort of bounceback/ repercussions from being too chipper on monday. or maybe it was that I put too much pressure on myself to write, and told myself I couldn't work on the writing club blog. tonight I caved in and tweaked the blog a little, and wrote a message to the group telling them about it and other group announcements. and what else did I do... just stared at the site and thought about what could happen with it. actually I did a lot more with it. I created an 'about' page and a 'get involved' page. all these little things are easy to forget. they kind of melt into the blog. yet they take up a lot of time. I'd say a blog takes a week to set up and customize. And that's with just me making decisions by myself. There is this person I made a website for, about a year ago, and she wants me to do an update, but I am kind of dreading it, because it will take forever just to talk about it with her. It seriously took like ten times longer than I thought it would, because I had to explain everything. yeah, I am not answering her last email asking me to call her. she can call me if she likes but I'm not about to call her.
journal | Posted by Lily at 04:36 AM | comment
Tue | August 16, 2005
the whole equation
finally finished that book, the whole equation. don't know what i'm going to read next. had wanted to write a 'review' of that book but don't think i will.
then again a disjointed commentary is better than none at all? it was a very casual and sketchy book. or the positive way to say that is that it was conversational, warm, informal, friendly.
I did come away with a list of films to watch and a couple of books to read, and a stronger sense of the history of film, which is only about a hundred years old. that is a fact I would not have been able to say with confidence before I read this book. I am not so good at dates. I also learned some of the major people in the film business, especially as it grew and came of age. I just liked the words he used, had an affinity for his vocab at his book signing. some of that but not as much in his book. interesting phrases and ways of saying things here and there. At some points he blathers on for no reason about something else. like how much movies cost and how much they make. numbers mean nothing to me. Much of the book means nothing to me. If you say 10 million I don't really know what that means. Anyway I think I like the mushy approach approximate not clinical and exact. yet it was very surprising to me that it was written like that. there are LOTS of sentence fragments in this book. it's like entirely unedited. like this. and it's kind of R-rated. talks in passing about sex and uses swear words. at one point he offers an explanation of why americans are fat. it's a random, flimsy book that is generally organized and does go in a particular direction, but it's also kind of lost in space at the same time.
Livres, films, TV | Posted by Lily at 01:12 AM | comment
Mon | August 15, 2005
a new sense of urgency
I applied to a job last night and it makes me appreciate all the things I have now: I determine my own schedule; I stay up late if I wish because I don't have to get up tomorrow; I live in the quiet suburbs, where it's not polluted and grimy; I am relaxed and not perpetually stressed; I report to no one. I have time to think.
I installed MT at awc just now. I think I'm taking a break from it now; that's enough for today. Voila-- http://www.asianwriting.org. Hopefully that will stick also.
It helped, actually, that I applied to that job, because it made me think I should do this stuff now in case I get busier later. It's like if you think you might die you stop wasting time.
If I do by some bizarre twist in the universe take on that full-time job (history has shown that I won't, but you never know), I would want to retain as many of the good things in my little list of pros at the top of this post as possible. The staying up late bit I will have to give up, which is actually an enormous concession on my part because I am sort of a natural insomniac and I feel like I sort out a lot of my thoughts late at night. Actually looking at that list I suppose the only thing I could try to maintain is the level of stress. And I would try to give myself time to think during the day because that is important to me.
notes to self-- things I did for asianwriting.org
--installed mt, even though I wasn't absolutely convinced it was necessary.
--made graphic for banner-- a transparent gif
--customized/ adjusted style sheet-- some of these ideas were already thought through in my head, and in my previous experiments with mt, but there was still the actual execution of it and further tweaking
--chose colors for backgrounds
--border of these tables is 1 px grey instead of white
--added the copyright footer and created the footer style, footer image (another transparent gif)
--was unable to find the font that had the book image, ended up using the keyboard. which is fine, I guess.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:29 PM | comment
Sun | August 14, 2005
asian writing club multi-user blog
I am going in circles trying to decide whether to install moveable type in the asianwriting.org directory. I think I am hesitating because I remember it was kind of intense and scary when I installed mt at invisiblecube. the easiest thing to do would be to just use the movable type that's installed here. the only difference would be that the log in would be at invisiblecube.com instead of at asianwriting.org. that is, the website would show up at asianwriting but people would enter posts through invisiblecube. I think I know that in the long run it will be better to have it at asianwriting, but I remember that it took like two half-days to install it and it might have been just luck that I didn't do anything wrong, and at any rate it was kind of exhausting. and I am not even sure how many users you can have on the blog. there doesn't appear to be a limit. there probably isn't. I am just making up excuses to delay things until I know more or whatever and I should get over it and go.
Web/Tech | Posted by Lily at 09:48 PM | comment
Fri | August 12, 2005
net zone
the music at net zone is on the radio and it's lite fm.
[ ] bring earplugs
on the plus side, it has forced me to notice they have headphones here and i'm listening to launchcast, instead, sort of, though i can still hear the other music in the background. also they have a webcam so i've turned that on, and it's broadcast through yahoo messenger.
mostly this is negative though and the music and commercials are making me angry.
Web/Tech | Posted by Lily at 02:31 PM | comment
notes to self
http://subwaycinema.blogspot.com/
movies to watch
to do:
[ ] check for movable type in trash on my laptop, install in asianwriting.org directory.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:50 PM | comment
ack
I closed yahoo messenger while I was in the middle of writing a blog entry and it erased what I had in the box. oh well. I was only complaining about myself and launchcast.
tomorrow is a busy day and so is saturday.
I have not been to the beach this summer and now it is almost over. Maybe I will go next week or the week after. I will def try and go next week.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:14 AM | comment
Wed | August 10, 2005
my website
it's not really finished, but here is the latest lilyhuang.com: http://www.lilyhuang.com
I seem to remake lilyhuang.com every several months, and I am going to try to keep this one around. or at least save it on my hard drive instead of just deleting it. I need to polish the image a bit. or more likely, redo it more carefully.
Web/Tech | Posted by Lily at 06:35 PM | comment
Tue | August 09, 2005
Flight
Kat Galette sat on the barstool with resolve. It was not her habit to note the décor of a place, but she now noted the plush red couches and the tulips of light cast by the lamps on the wall. Thus the name Fire Bar and Lounge, she thought to herself. She counted the bottles of liquor on the wall in front of her. I know too many of those names, she thought. She could not think of much else as she focused on simply sitting in that seat.
"Excuse me," the man had said. "There’s a private party here at 10, so you’ll have to leave in about a half an hour."
"Where am I supposed to go?" she said. "I paid for this drink and I should be able to sit here all night if I like."
She surprised herself with that response. It’s because I’m here alone, she thought to herself. It’s because I’m alone and no one will catch me. She had called her friend Tara, but Tara wanted to hang out with her boyfriend. Then she had called Erica.
"Why are you still working at 8:00?" asked Erica.
"Lena came by at 5:00 with a three-hundred page document for me to photocopy and proofread," said Kat.
"Just say no. It’s like drugs. People telling you to do bad unhealthy things."
"I can’t say no. I’ll get fired."
"They won’t fire you."
"Yes they will. There are five billion people in New York who want to be paralegals. Just say you’ll come with me. I’ll have so much more motivation to finish this if I know I’m meeting up with someone afterwards."
"I can’t, Kat. I want to, but I can’t. I’m in my pajamas and I have to clean my room and do all this stuff."
"Oh fine." Kat had drawn a square with her red pen and was diligently filling it in.
"Kat—"
"Yeah?"
"I just said no just now, and you didn’t fire me."
"Well, I should fire you."
"But you didn’t. You understand, and we’re still friends."
So Kat faced the last hour with the document alone. When she reached the last page she decided that if she could face the document alone she could face a bar alone. She walked into Fire, and did her best not to note how many people were there, with their friends and colleagues, boyfriends, girlfriends and dates. She sat at the bar, ordered a mudslide, and thought, I have no friends and my job is eating me alive. Then the man in the suit told her she had to leave in a half hour, and she snapped back at him.
Kat was 24 and three years ago she would have said, "oh, okay," and left immediately. Three years ago she moved to New York City and got a job as a paralegal. Every day thereafter six attorneys and New York City drained her good will. It was a miraculous fountain that refilled fresh every day. Over time, she started to realize that she got very little back for her efforts.
Three years ago she would have said, "oh, okay." Tonight she had said something else, something confrontational, almost ferocious. She savored the words like a new dish. The minute hand moved quickly towards 9:30, the appointed time of departure, and she did not budge. She was bent on occupying that space.
She saw the man look in her direction, then again a few minutes later. She could see his shadowy eyes from across the room, and noticed his gelled spiked hair and dark suit. She observed again the lights on the wall. When she saw him walk in her direction she steeled herself for the confrontation.
He was soon next to her.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she said.
"You want to stay?"
"Excuse me?"
He held out his hand. "I’m Max. I’m the manager. You can stay if you like. It’s okay for me to have one guest."
Histoires | Posted by Lily at 12:11 PM | comment
Mon | August 08, 2005
yesterday
spent yesterday flailing over the difference between scene and exposition. eventually, finally, decided that for now it is too much for me to worry about and I should go back to day 1, plot. it is dangerous for me to try to do too much because I end up doing nothing at all. and this week is my week to submit (again?!) so I had better get moving. I am tempted to throw out the stuff I had started and start something new, but I know that that is a waste of time and I should just keep going with what I have. am debating whether to go to the library. a constant question that I rethink all the time, I should just come up with a clear way of deciding and stick to it. the dumber and simpler the better. like, the answer is always yes.
journal | Posted by Lily at 01:54 PM | comment
Fri | August 05, 2005
net zone
at net zone in k-town. I love this place. The lighting is at just the right level and the music is usu pretty good. I should just cave in and get a membership.
(more later)
Web/Tech | Posted by Lily at 02:12 PM | comment
Thu | August 04, 2005
the man who would not say "spork"
I was at taco bell and this middle-aged man in front of me was picking up the order for himself and his two co-workers. At taco bell they ask you what kind of salsa you want, and then give you a spork, I guess if it looks like you'll need one (or perhaps if you order particular things, like a salad? I have never gotten one, at any rate). They gave this guy his salsa and one spork, and he said "can I have two more --of these?" He knew it was called a spork but he could not bring himself to say it.
I wonder if I, or most people, would have trouble saying the word spork. I have been imagining myself saying, "can I have a spork?" and I am getting used to it. I could pull it off. More likely I would start laughing, because there is something funny about the word "spork." Plus the utensil itself is funny looking. I don't think they would laugh along. They would find some way of ruining your order next time, because, you know, employees at fast food places don't like to see you happy.
nonsense | Posted by Lily at 12:21 AM | comment
Michelle said on Feb 6, 07 03:15 PM:
Now who wouldn't find pleasure in saying spork. Just spit it out man...SPOOOORRRRRKKK!!
Wed | August 03, 2005
hello morning
I am up because I did not eat a snack before going to bed as I usually do. I have been typing and deleting words in this entry because I can't decide what I can and can't say about things. I have one person who calls me too much, and I think I will give him his own cell phone ring, so I know it's him. I must remember not to eat late at night if possible.
I think I am also up because I have been growing more optimistic about things. I have been adjusting my attitude to not be so dismissive about everything I write or attempt to write. sometimes I wake up and the time ahead seems so daunting, I don't know what to do with it. but if I can just trust that it will be okay and just think about the next thing I am going to do, and trust in time, that it will pass well enough, then I am better able to rise in a most timely fashion.
journal | Posted by Lily at 07:17 AM | comment
Tue | August 02, 2005
my webhost
I like them, even though I usually don't know what the heck they're talking about in their newslettery. They're always like, now you can do this and that! And I'm like, ok whatever that means. But I think I like knowing that whatever it is I might want to do in the future, I can probably do it without changing webhosts. Like this blog-- the perl modules or whatever I forgot what they were, were already installed on the Dreamhost server. I'm sure that's pretty common with webhosts but then again maybe it's not. I'm pretty sure it's not ok with my yahoo account. Or maybe it is. But no, I don't think so. I get basically nothing with that. I like yahoo for other reasons and kind of have an account with them just for the heck of it.
I haven't used Dreamhost's tech support very much but the times I've had they've been pretty helpful. I tend to figure out most everything myself though and just email them if I'm really confused. I feel like they are almost too nice and would help me even more if I was too lazy to figure it out myself. They even have this drop down menu in their tech support form where you select "I'm an idiot" "I know a little," or "I know a lot," or that's not what the choices say of course but it's something to that effect, so if you wanted to just not think at all you could be an idiot and I suppose they would hold your hand through it. Though that also takes time because often reading the explanation takes longer than just figuring it out yourself. I think in general with web stuff it is better to be smart. Which is actually not true of everything in life.
I get a referral bonus if people sign up with lily_huang as their referrer, or (so they say) if someone gets to the website by clicking a link from this site.
When I signed up it was through a link on giantrobot.com but I have no way of knowing whether they actually got anything out of it.
Web/Tech | Posted by Lily at 09:33 PM | comment
Mon | August 01, 2005
I thought I had posted
I thought I had posted that story, but I guess I started to and then deleted it. I think I need to keep posting some of these little things I write because otherwise I am in serious danger of deleting them. I tend to take on projects that are too big, work on them for awhile, and then delete them. I need to focus on doing smaller projects. and not deleting them.
yesterday I made two more bookmark icons, one for my writing club website and the other for my web design website. I think I am going to make a very simple website for my vanity site. right now it's just something I threw together while checking out yahoo page builder.
art is pretty good for therapy. I was kind of annoyed with someone yesterday and I made those little bookmark icons and felt a little better afterwards. too bad I don't have more websites.
journal | Posted by Lily at 03:01 PM | comment
the compromise
The eyebrow is of great importance-- a sign of beauty and refinement, and awareness of current trends. Plucked and arched, but not overplucked, to one extreme, or too heavily drawn, to another, good eyebrows enhance the face but are not immediately apparent. They are a sidekick, there to provide support but never to be the center of attention.
These facts were lost on Genny Waterhouse, whose unibrow was the first thing you noticed about her and the thing you then made a conscious effort to forget, but never quite could, and ended up simply not looking at her at all, talking instead to the wall, or at some object in the corner.
Genny plucked the hairs below her brow, but not inbetween. Her friend had told her that one does not pluck the hairs between the brows, and as an impressionable fifteen year old, Genny believed her. It was two years later, and she had still not realized that her eyebrows were an error. This mistake kept her at the lowest rung of the ladder in her social group.
She was already on the way there regardless of the unibrow. She was homely and pictures and portraits of her were the main decoration in her parents' apartment. Her face was round; her body was round also. It was not an amorphous blob-- it was curvy. She had breasts and hips, but they were maternal, rather than sexy.
And yet a senior asked her to the prom because he knew they could have sex and he felt safe doing it with her. She was into poetry and her brain was mushy and associative, and she would do it just for the sensation. There was no delusion of love involved. Or there was and there wasn't, on her part. She would imagine how it might feel if she really were in love. It would be like reading a poem. So she would get a certain amount of emotional juice out of it, even if it was mostly about the sex itself. It was this level of comfort with emotions and sex, that arose out of her reading of literature and poetry, that the boy sensed, and felt she would be a good date to the prom.
For her part she knew she was homely; when she looked in the mirror she saw she was not the beauty described in poetry. She had fair, luminous skin, though, and this was the one connection to beauty that she clung to and drew confidence and reassurance from. She also grew her brown hair long. She kept it in a braid because the private school she attended required that long hair be tied back. She imagined it was romantic and mysterious. She would only let it loose, she told herself, in the bedroom. But that being such a rare occasion and long in coming, she also let it out every once in awhile on a weekend.
At seventeen she had experienced many of the best things in life, or had acquired an understanding of them-- sex and relationships, mostly, but also love, and life, and careers. What was left but to execute them? There was newness but there was also jadedness. Awareness of process is a loss to those who are told, and told early, how the world works. Having the benefit of others' experience, they are denied the experience of struggle, mistake, and disillusionment. They have disillusionment but it is a letter in the mail. They never float, wondering what they are, in absolute space. There is instead always a sense of place within a system.
When she was ten she brought leftover pizza for lunch and her friends Lia and Vicky thought it was cool. They declared that every Wednesday must be pizza day, and that Genny would bring one slice for herself and one to split between her friends.
When she was twelve she was surprised to be the first to get her period. Lia and Vicky were so much more prepared for it, since they carried pads around with them everywhere they went. She waited for a month, and then another, to tell them, at which point she lied and said it had only been a month ago. It was the subject of conversation for the next month, during which Genny got practice describing things that are somewhat indescribable, or at least very difficult to describe.
She said yes when Rob Barnes asked her to the prom and she knew what it meant, or of the many things it meant she knew what was most important. It would be a strength, a contribution to her social group, for her to do it and tell her friends about it later. This is why they went shopping with her and all tried on dresses, even though they were not all going to the prom, and played most of the evening out in detail, over several shopping trips, in all its possible variations, up until the point when Rob and Genny would be alone in their hotel room. At that point things became a bit unclear.
Genny went to the prom in a black structured off-the-shoulder knee-length dress. The structure did its best to bring elegance and grace to her curves. The fabric was a textured brocade and her shoes were pointy Jimmy Choos. Her hair was down, and curled in soft waves. Her unibrow was the same as always. To avoid eye contact with the brow her date spent most of the evening dancing cheek to cheek, or talking with his friends.
Her date had rented a hotel room at the Hilton, as had his friends. They even hung out for a bit and extended the party into the hotel. The girls kicked off their shoes and those who were friends talked to each other, but not to Genny. She had no choice but to sit dumbly by her date's side. The television was switched on and it looked as if it would go on indefinitely. But Rob, for one, was determined to see it through. He wanted to get it over with, to have this experience and check it off his list. Genny, detecting his thoughts, and feeling the same way, said she was tired.
There wasn't a lot of kissing. There was touching and there was some hesitance and confusion, but then there was sex. When it happened they looked into each other's eyes and they smiled at the success.
She told Lia and Vicky what she could, as best she could, and found ways to make knowing reference to it over the next few years, in particular when she felt she might be around those who were less experienced than she was. She was ever the resource and gentle informer. Her ambition would lead her to try other things just to add them to her resume. But what she would never have was sex driven by its own force, its own need and its true nature, instead of as a deliberate experiment, act or experience.
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notes
This was sort of carelessly written, and not revised, but I don't like it enough to go back through it. There is a rush to it at points where I prolly should have written more, filled in more, especially towards the end/ second half/ last third. Perhaps some other day.