Dear Life

Here I am. Still slightly weakened from last night's rendezvous with food poisoning (yes, again) along with the world's biggest cramps. So weak, I am. So unhealthy, I am. So full of contempt for myself, I have. complain complain complain. I am currently keeled over my computer, wincing in pain, and still furiously attempting to finish this godforsaken essay. I have roughly about fifteen minutes to crank out 5 more pages. and yet... I still have time to blog. fascinating how my mind works.

The idea of food disgusts me. I still have two more sandwiches in the fridge.... Aubrey has advised me to throw them away, but, I feel like I should save them for tomorrow (lolz). idontgiveafuck.vietnamese sandwiches ftw!!!

Despite everything, in the midst of all this hustle and bustle (and physical pain), I have been once again proven wrong about life. It's a strange and unpredictable little ho... and kinda beautiful. You sure know how to fuck with me, don't you universe? You got one hell of a sense of a humor.

I checked my email in the whee hours of this early morning and discovered to my surprise that my gal pal/homegirl/BFFL/stank whore, Christina (lovely gal, fellow war comrade from high school) had sent me a plane ticket home for Thanksgiving via travelocity.com. The tears were coming man, they just couldn't be stopped. I was inundated with a series of emotions. I shall be flying out next Wednesday to LAX, to spend the holiday with a few good friends; the only family I've ever known in California. I know you are reading this, so I thank you Christina, from the bottom of my heart. Homegirl, I have no words for you. The fact that I used the word "homegirl" should sufficiently express my gratitude for you and for giving me this... strange overwhelming feeling in my heart at the sight of seeing a plane ticket in my inbox booked for home (i.e. to you). What's that feeling called? Oh right... happiness. It's an unfamiliar emotion. I kinda dig it. And I kinda dig you. See ya next Wednesday. Don't forget to pick me up from the airport.


I have been in fact, proven wrong several times this weekend about my theory/outlook on life. All I really need is few good people to survive.



aw christ, I guess I have something less to complain about. does this mean I shouldn't walk around with a scowl etched on my face anymore?

anyway, I am clearly just dicking around yet again. I'm debating about skipping class and just telling my teacher I have hella cramps, mouth cancer, food poisoning, a couple of STDS, a retarded older sister, a roommate that has seen me throw up sober, drunk, through several cases of food poisoning, anxiety, and often times just for the hell of it, and maybe a serious case of self-deprecation that just cannot be cured (though I may take some painkillers tonight. just cause I can. bitch)

Okay, I've decided. I'm skipping. 4/10 pages of essay is being emailed to her along with a hearty explanation of my current physical state that isn't being bullshitted for the first time. I really did have food poisoning this time. ironic, no?


Your Pal (only clinging onto you out of curiosity about your next move)
Carolyn K. Huynh




P.S. Thanks.