very early twenty-first century

I wasn’t going to write about this, but earlier today I changed my mind.
Last Saturday I was at a party at Lauren’s sweet new Tremont apartment, and it was fun, but I’m not going to write about what went on.  I’m going to write about the fact, or mention the fact, that there were six bloggers in attendance, some of whom I only knew from their blogs.  A blogospherically cosmic happenstance, very early twenty-first century, or something like.
So, a list of the blogs in attendance:





time and change

The question of the week, as far as my life is concerned, has revolved around where I might be going to film school in the fall.  The answer to this seems to be leaning heavily towards SCAD, although I have given myself until August 1st to make my final decision.  My recent emails to the school in Paris have gone entirely unanswered, and this indicates a disregard that I’m not eager to be a part of. 
Beyond contemplating my film school decision, I have been spending too much time these last few days dealing with computer problems.  I’d go into details here, but I doubt anyone reading this really cares enough to read them.  I could be wrong about this, but I really hope not… for your sake, and for mine.
I hung out with Becky tonight.  It was the first time we’d seen each other since I dropped her off at the airport on New Year’s Day, almost SEVEN months ago.  It was good to see her, and we got along as we did then, albeit without the tattered remnants of our relationship hanging over us.  Well, no… remnants of our relationship will always hang over us, but time and the change it brings have and will smooth them, sew them together, whathaveyou.  That being said, it did make me happy to find out that she has repeatedly called her new boyfriend "Jef." 



born in this silhouette


(I was born in this silhouette.)


Tonight was a mid-summer night drinking beers outside with old friends.  It was a good night, and now I am back home in my parent’s basement watching The Weather Channel for no apparent reason.  I like weather, and all, but The Weather Channel at three on a Tuesday morning is a bit much.
Ahh… "Local on the 8’s."
I suddenly got very tired, so…

What's that Mr. Fisty?

I am now back home in Cleveland, surrounded and slightly overwhelmed by the piles of media I forgot I owned.  In Korea, there was always a relative drought of English books, films, and (kinda) music; this recent monsoon has confronted me with a glut of choices, leaving me unable to choose. 

Also confronting me here in Cleveland is my parents’ dial-up internet access, the speed of which has kept me from posting until now.  The back of my head remains worried that I am going to lose this whole post in some phenomenal touch-tone-related tragedy, and yet I press on.

Despite my strife, it has been good to be back home.  My familiarity with this place is comforting, as is the fact that it doesn’t really change all that much–there are still two trees in my front yard, there is still a lake (Erie) down the street, there are still many white people about.  My parents did remodel their kitchen while I was gone, and I find myself going to where the garbage can used to be to throw garbage away, like some gambling amputee trying to shuffle cards with a hook.  I challenge you to come up with a more abstract and unclear metaphor than that.

Since returning to America, I’ve been at a loss for words to post, as I am terrified of becoming one of these bloggers who writes about the mundane trivialities of their life.  Living in Asia always justified my existence as a blogger, at least in my head, as most things about my life weren’t "normal."  Now, though, I am just another American living in America doing this trendy blogging thing that I’ve heard so much about on MSNBC.  Perhaps I’ll rename this blog "LAND OF MY ANXIOUS KITTIES!!!" and write pages and pages about the antics of my nonexistent cats…

"Today, Mittens went to the bathroom FIVE TIMES, and poor little Mr. Fisty got feisty with a paper towel!  Mitten’s first poop was five inches long, and it smelled of tuna.  I stared at my kitties for twelve straight hours today, and now my eyes are bleeding!  Oh, happy day!  I wonder what my kitties will do tomorrow?  God is my kitties!  GOD IS MY KITTIES!  BOW DOWN TO THEIR SOFT FURRY POWER!  What’s that Mr. Fisty?  You want me to bring you the head of the neighbor’s dog?  OK!  Yes, Mittens?  Who is all against me?  Them?  You want me to do what?  But I like having fingers!"

…and so forth.

Amsterdam hole