ZAnPon

Dear ZAnPon,

though your name is case sensitive, i forgive you. i even made a trip up to NYC to see your exhibit at the joshua liner gallery. i was too shy to approach you but i'd like to think you received the love auras i was mentally sending over. well, in case you didnt- i was the girl who screamed ZANPOOOONNNNNNN before being escorted out by two hipsters (damn those hipster) i love your creative mind. please marry me. i realize i am a bit older than you but i believe in botox.

xoxo

GIrLnINja in love

your firsts

you never forget your firsts...

the first kiss from the sweet lips of your very first real REAL boyfriend (age 13)

the first time you experienced the exhilaration that is hooking school (age 14)

the first time you used a fake ID to hit up a club. rip avalon. the place had no ac. it was disgusting and sweaty. i still remember brushing up against one of the walls and feeling the fascinating sensation of something that can only be described as slime. it was unpretentious and had no velvet rope complex- hence every weekend was something of a cretin/douchebag convention. however. it was the first place chill enough (some would say criminal, i say chill.) to let a 17 year girl who looked 12 get in with a bad ID. and for that, avalon you will always have a place in my heart. (age 17)

the first time you got piss drunk, vomited all over yourself and fell asleep in a pile of your own retching. (age 18)

the first time you realize that dressing up like a slut is fun, yay! (age 19)

the first time a lesbian offered to give you a mindblowing orgasm in the bathroom (age 20)


the first time you realize that dressing up like a slut is well.. slutty. you like to keep your slut tendencies discreet. (age 21)

the first time you realize you might possibly not want kids (age 22)

the first time you read twilight. (age 25.5)

the first time you broke your louboutin cherry. in fact, u slut u went off and brought 3 pairs! magenta horatios, tortoise prive, and black leather criss cross <3 momma loves you! (age 26)

and

the latest FIRST to be added to this monumental list.

the first wrinkle. 'nuff said. all is lost. (age 27)

Grub Street Workshop 1a

I realize i forgot the most important moment during my grub street workshop.
per our instructor, we had to go around the table and introduce ourselves.

so off the round table it went:
one was a teacher's assistant for english at an university
one taught french creative writing @ harvard university
one went to harvard divinity school
one went to MIT
one was a grad student/scientist

and there i was... the random blip on the screen.
so i started off by telling everyone my name. and then my occupation.
"i work in finance. doing analyst work @ jpmorgan. it's not the most funnest job but it pays the bills"
alas.
i caught myself too late. those words did indeed pass these lips of mine.
i had uttered 'most funnest'.
yes. most funnest. bastard child of Bad Grammar!
finer artists (pronunced arteeste) have died a more noble death by words.
it is the most amateur grammatical faux pas to ever be uttered in that room, im sure.
polite smiles all around.
i was branded before it began... i am the workshop's official street urchin from da streets.
while everyone was listing their favorite authors, (a myriad of unheard of authors whom everyone was nodding in affirmation at, the only name i recall is toni morrison), i listed nick hornby and dave eggers as my favorites.
so i didnt fit in.
but you know, maybe a younger more immature me would have lied and tried to bluster myself up to something im not. but at this point in my life, i dont care- i will occupy whatever ragamuffin title they give me with confidence. this world would be too boring if everyone was the same. i can be the eclectic yet adorable step daughter of the group. klutzy, delightfully in tap with popular culture. not quite an intellect but i make up for it in charm.

signing off:
the riff raff. much love. <3

Grub Street Workshop 1

so in a valiant attempt to really anchor my decision to take my writing seriously i signed up for a six week workshop with the fabulous boston based grub street writers community.
The course i am taking is called 6 weeks, 6 stories. as you can guess, the concept is to write six weeks in six stories.
today in class, we were introduced to the concept of the six word story and the hint fiction: 25 words or less.
our instructor started out with an example of a famous 6 word story: Ernest Hemingway. his friend bet that hemingway couldn't write a six word story. he did. and he won the bet. his story is: For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Another example:

Longed for him. Got him. Shit.
by margaret Atwood

to me, the whole concept of the six word story is to try to think of very archetypal words, phrases, things that are very emotionally charged, deeply implicit that even though you're not writing out a full story, those short six words tell a whole story.

this is my six word story:

i love him cz he's rich.

as for my hint fiction: 25 words or less:

she was the surgeon that performed my heart transplant. i fell in love with her and she broke my heart.



next class: flash fiction:
List story: write a story in list form 250 words or less.
Write a "complete" story that is one sentence long.
stayed tuned!

btw, this is the coolest!
The world's shortest horror story: the last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door.
(author unknown)

gluttony is one of the seven sins

Our company has a corporate sponsorship with LA sports club, sports club of choice for trophy wives, bottle poppin girls and other assorted members of the Females for Labor Liberation Union.
We had a seminar today on healthy living. As I'd do just about anything to get out of doing actual constructive work, I was the first person to sign up.
Upon entering the seminar, they took my body fat percentage. The lady administering the test was making small talk, saying "you gotta love technology. this little machine though small and portable can give you an accurate reading in seconds!"

Then upon seeing my results, she kinda went "huh..."
silence.
then said, "there must be a mistake"

She proceeded to announce to the entire room that "in the entire time i've been a trainer, i've never seen someone of those proportions with such high body fat." then she emphasized quite soundedly again, "there has to be a mistake."


Actually, indeed such a feat can happen. I do indeed possess that high of a body fat %.
i took the same test a few years ago and had similar results. not to mention, i was warned by my doctor that i have dreaded high cholesterol! woe is me- no more fried oreos!

my friends, there is fat girl inside of me. tis true.
i eat cake like an asian girl eats rice. and im an asian girl so i know what i'm talking about.

So i had to awkwardly interrupt and confirm my bastardly 27.5% body fat.
everyone was aghast.
thankfully im not the kind to get offended.

how obnoxious is my bday invite?

Titled: to my wondrous friends and karaoke lovers

In commemoration of fourth of july, the joys of karaoke and the bday of yours truly, I would like to invite you to a night of DK, Drunken Karaoke. this isn't karaoke, this isn't singing, this is Drunken Karaoke. this is indeed the drunken (wo)man's official sport and past time.
I will be cohosting this little shindig with my cohost Sake, native of Japan. Sake will be joined by his cousin, Vodka, of the Russian Vodkas.
i wish to enjoy that wondrous night with everyone here who has touched my heart in one way or another, or in the case of henry, just simply touched me. so please for the sake of our country as it is fourth of july, come out and sing.

ghetto love

so i just finished reading the brief wondrous world of oscar wao. boy can write. i love that he has this very distinct voice. and i love that he's this ghetto intellect and i love me some ghetto intellects. they are intensely fresh and clever and can talk wheelies around any subject, slipping in and out of street vernacular slang like it's a second language.
junot diaz is definitely a new generation of hip intellects. and like i said, i love me some hip intellects.
his voice is so distinct. as a fellow writer, i am colored GREEN with envy at his ability to articulate such a clear and contemporary voice. his words are pure madcap dexterity. he is a ghetto fab hyperkinetic spitfire ninja throwing words like daggers, a verbose motherfucka who can talk an item to its death. he spins words like tornadoes and loops you for a ride. and it's a crazy ride. diaz, i bow down to you. i hate you so much.
now i must make my leave so i can turn the lights off in my bedroom, curl up in fetal position and sing creep by radiohead softly to myself as my teardrops soak my pillow.

be back

currently trying to recover my Fighting Spirit and Idealism.
they went missing when i let myself get seduced by that tempestuous vixen Discouragement.
expect a long and bloody battle. i plan on beating that bitch down.
will return victoriously, w/plans of hanging her severed head over my doorway as a cautionary tale for those that dare follow.
and her entrails? i will brew a stew and feed it to my dogs.
ok. enough. i don't even own dogs.
correction: will feed to stray dogs. heh heh.



ps. we can't forget tiananmen square.

female fixations

she is one spicy kimchee. yummmm
has there ever been a more korean name than... grace park?

sometimes when i'm bored...

i take my shoes out of their boxes and look at them.

in fact, right before this entry, i was traipsing around my room w/two different pairs, which was what prompted this little entry here.

i love being a girl <3