cruel and unusual

First midterm of the semester: October 8.

Last midterm of the semester: November 24.

By my calculations, that’s over a month and a half of studying, stress and sleep-deprivation. I think Columbia is out to get me.

many returns

This past couple of weeks, Carsick Cars has been touring the USA. They’re a Beijing rock band that I discovered during Summer of 2008; a plan that goes as far back as 2006, when Big D and I were making plans that were bigger than ourselves. I had asked Big D to come study Chinese with me in China for the summer, not really knowing what I was hoping to accomplish with that awkward invite. He responded by sending me a thick guidebook and a note – cordial and brief.

I read that guidebook cover to cover for weeks leading up to my trip, studying it as if it were a dense Physics textbook. Beijing is a city full of culture and history and yet my #1 place to visit was a virtually unknown music bar, D-22. Big D was the first to introduce me to the underground music scene and the thrill of moshing with strangers. D-22 was a return to that kind of elation, an excuse to lose myself in the pounding of the speakers, an intoxicating promise of the smoke-filled locales where most of the sweat on your shirt isn’t your own.

Hey, B? How do you deal with break-ups…?
Relationships are nice, but not necessary.
Now, you could do all the things you want to do.

I confess the need to do things to impress him. Things that will serve as a reminder that yes, I am still awesome, and yes, you were stupid to let me go. Carsick Cars and D-22 were always some kind of relic from summer past, a throwback I can’t help but send to him, in hopes of getting something (anything) in return.

Carsick Cars performed in NYC on four separate occasions in the past three weeks, and for each performance I could never make it there in time to catch a glimpse of my summer romance. Perhaps the fates have finally seen my twisted motivations and decided to purge me of my heavy baggage. I’m not sure when Carsick Cars will return to NYC, or if I will be able to catch them live ever again. But when “Zhong Nan Hai” comes on and I shut my eyes at the right moments… it’s like I never left that summer behind.

asian lesbians, WHAT.

I haven’t had a good Friday night for a long time. This weekend was a lifesaver.

Indie C and I were itching to do something, which turned into movie night. With Ajisen Ramen. And Magic Hat. To top it all off, the movie was fabulous, aside from the cliche’d ending. It was great to be able to relate to a movie so closely, and we had a jovial (yes somewhat saddenned) hypothetical conversation about how our own parents would react if we told them we were gay or pregnant. (Pregnant would go over so much better. Clearly the lesser of two evils in the eyes of an Asian parent.)

all the single ladies

Today is International Singles’ Day. Best invention ever, right? There is so much about that Wikipedia article that makes me happy.

First of all, leave it up to China to come up with something like that. I’ve always admired the way Chinese culture, despite repressions/oppressions of many kinds, has been able to handle Western taboos with such blunt honesty. You could always count on Chinese people to ask you about your salary, your health/weight, and your relationship status. All within 15 minutes of meeting you for the first time.

I also love the bit about the traditions for this “holiday”.

The main way to celebrate Singles Day is to have dinner with your single friends, but it’s important that each person pay their own way to show their independence. People also hold ‘blind date’ parties in an attempt to bid goodbye to their single lives.

Chinese people have always had the habit to congregate at any occasion. The collective nature of the Chinese people has been… well, troublesome, most of the time (see: Great Leap Forward, Cultural Revolution, etc). When it comes to relationships, it’s not uncommon for people to mobilize friends, family and colleagues to find that suitable mate. My parents have often hinted that, should I run into any issues “finding someone”, I should go to them for help. I dread the day I have to sit through a date set up by my parents.

-ace

I can no longer look at words that ends with “-ace” without trying to pronounce it as “-acé”. (see: Dr. Beardfacé from Scrubs)

Other words that work well with this pronunciation:

1. subspace (thank you, Linear Algebra)
2. nerdface
3. whoreface
4. shoelace
5. interface
6. disgrace (thank you, J.M. Coetzee)
7. fireplace
8. hyperspace

rock, rock on.

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.

everything is illuminated

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.

hide and seek

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.

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