the musings of an Ivy League student in the American Metropolis
I really enjoyed the rock scene in Beijing last year, when I went to a music bar owned by a Columbia alum (D-22). It was especially cool to see Carsick Cars live; the drummer chick was so awesome.
My friends went to the Chinese Underground Invasion Tour tonight. I had to study for an Econ midterm.
I had a dream about you this morning.
We were brought together by a book, a receipt and the promise of money. Maybe we were somewhere in China; everything seemed foreign and grey. We walked into a small bookshop and returned the book to the Asian lady behind the counter. I remember that you had the receipt, somehow; maybe it was a purchase we had made when we were still speaking.
Outside the bookstore, we crossed a busy highway. It was vivid, and I remember the sticky warmth of the polluted air and the drone of motors in our ears. Maybe that’s why we had to yell to get to each other, maybe that’s why I still couldn’t understand why we broke up.
Are you kidding me? you scoffed. It was always so complicated.
But it doesn’t have to be. It didn’t have to be. Just as I was coming to terms with it…
You shook your head, because you were familiar with the barrage of tears and pleads that followed. On that narrow strip of pavement in the middle of the road, you and I stood still, entwined in a past that refuses to let me go. Me with my fists against your chest; you with sadness and pity in your eyes.
I don’t understand, I just don’t understand…
Even in my dreams, I can’t have you. Even in my dreams, I can’t get us back.
Imogen Heap is absolutely brilliant. Her music (both her solo work and that from Frou Frou) captures so many of my emotions and their complexities. These days, it’s so hard to keep myself from sending him the song and lyrics, to keep myself from expressing to him what I feel. At least I can take solace in the fact that Immi understands…
mmm what you say / oh that you only meant well / well of course you did
mmm what you say / mmm that it’s all for the best / because it is
mmm what you say / mmm it’s just what we need / you decided this
Take the left, I’ll take the right. We’ll climb and see where we’ll meet, k?
again and again
At the beginning of this year, I met a guy that I thought I was interested in. In retrospect, I think it was only because he was a nice guy and he was a breakdancer. I have a history of… looking for the “type” that I had just been with. After Big D, I would only check out tall, blond guys. Who majored in the sciences. And had a thinkpad laptop.
So, G, this new kid (Yes, kid, because he’s a sophomore) is now dating C, the girl down the hall from me. I don’t particularly like him anymore, and I can say that I’m pretty good friends with C. But everytime I see him in his PJs in our hall, a small part of me wishes I was still back with Bboy A. Because I’d like to see a bboy in PJs in my room once in a while too, y’know. I find it hard to be happy for them, even though I think that they’re a really cute couple. It’s as if their happiness takes away from mine, as if there was a set amount of “happiness” in this world and that I’ve just been robbed of my share.
I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about getting back together with Bboy A… and it’s been somehow soothing to think of that every so often and “know” that we’ll date again. I’ve also been thinking a lot, lately, about getting back in touch with him. I wonder how I’ll do it. Perhaps with stark honesty?
I miss you like a bboy mises the beat.
Or a brave demeanor?
Hey, how’re you doing? Things have been busy for me, but good.
Or the tried-and-true humour?
Yo, you never called me back like you said you would! Anyhoo…
Thinking about when we’ll finally talk again has given me something to think about other than just him, in a roundabout away. So if there really is a finite amount of happiness, then he must be ecstatic right about now.
I take far too much comfort in thinking we may get back together someday. What’s wrong with me? You weren’t that awesome to begin with.
Edit: I submitted this line to Dear Old Love. Through my Google Reader, I’ve discovered that two of my friends like the post. We are so much more alike than I had imagined.
I miss you like a bboy misses the beat.
I miss you like ska misses syncopation.
Me too.
My mother and I speak on a weekly basis, and since Bboy A and I broke up 2 months ago, she’s been asking me the same question on a weekly basis.
Have you spoken to him lately?
First off, wtf. Honestly. You’re my mom. You should be on my side. You should be the one who hates him even more than I do because he broke your daughter’s heart. You should be the one convincing me that I deserve better than that. You should be the one telling me to move on and meet “all the other fishes in the sea”.
Every week, I try to explain to you that “I really don’t want to talk about it”. No, I really don’t want to talk about it. No, I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ve even hung up on my mom once or twice because she just wouldn’t let it go. Today, I asked her why she’s still asking me about my breakup.
I want to know if either he or you changed your minds.
Secondly, wtf. I got dumped and since then, we have never talked, e-mailed, texted each other. Fuck, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dating someone else already. So no, we didn’t change our minds. I’m just waiting for you to change yours.
