Monday, March 23, 2009

Dear Ella/Ben

Thank you.

Your Pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Dear Ella

I have my cheerful disposition on right now. Thanks for the blog entry (it was funny) and thanks for having us over today. It has cured my blues temporarily.

What a queer day this has been... I wake up drunk, putter around the house at 5 a.m. consuming tangerines, pacing around, trying to rid myself of my hangover - I eventually crawl back into bed with the BF. I awake with a start only a mere two hours later to the sound of my phone vibrating angrily. fuck me. must take BF to airport. So, I trooped on, splashed some water on the face and unwillingly took the BF to the airport. I use the word 'unwillingly' because I was more than happy to keep driving and take him hostage for a week.

Cherlaine and I putter around some more, wondering what to do. We eventually decide to go to Ella/Ben because they were making paper. I don't remember why, but they were making paper. Something to do with art. (I'm kidding, I know why.)

We dick around with Ella/Ben. I watch Ben/Ella/Cherlaine do impromptu epic jam session in the sunshine. We then get thai food. social interaction - it's a funny thing. it only really works when you like the people that are around you.

Cherlaine/Carolyn leave for Wayward Home. We put on loud ostentatious fist-pumping music as background noise as we cleaned up the couch/living room area. The living room looks very college - we dig it. (You'd like it very much, Sarah.)

Cherlaine/Carolyn then decide to smoke a bowl. Then we did something silly and made music together. Cherlaine Guitar. Carolyn Dulcimer. We both took turns with tambourine. It sounds sloppy and uncoordinated - and most definitely out of tune - but towards the middle we felt sound move in our body and if you listen to it without judgment - it doesn't sound too bad. We just need to practice more (it's been a while since I've played anything) - get Aubrey to do some vocals, add in a harmonica, etc etc. Hella baked though.

We have a love/hate thing with this. Feedback would be nice. (Note, it gets progressively better after I shout a hearty ' fuck me'):

CRAP - Carolyn & Cherlaine

We ended the night watching the Last Samurai and had a few laughs.

Overall, a nice day. It reminded me of summer.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Dear Cleveland

I am a lazy sack of shit. Writing in this blog has become almost become a duty. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I think I may be slightly depressed... but I can't really tell for sure if I am. I'm either really fucking lazy or I've just given up on life completely. I have become a hermit, a recluse...horseshit. I shit on the sunshine by sleeping through the day, watching anime at night and obsessively playing Pet Society. I just bought myself a $2,000 bowler hat. It took me three days to save up for that money. Soybean looks pretty dank. This is my life.

I think my saving grace is Cleveland. What an odd city to pick.. I've been somewhat obsessed with it over the years... I think I may move there after college. Try my luck over there. I don't know why I'm a journalism student. Everybody in my major classes are fucking doing shit with their degrees. Going to shows, snapping pictures, writing reviews, becoming the next fucking traveling reporter for Rolling Stone magazine, writing articles for the Spectator (some career)... worst journalism student ever. No, I'm not depressed... I think I'm just lost. And it's becoming inherent and a taking a toll on me. I have replaced real life with a society of pets. They're not even real pets. They're virtual. Cleveland sure sounds nice, doesn't it?

My plans for spring break include doing keg stands with Cherlaine and Aubrey (also to celebrate their joint bdays - but mostly to attempt to consume an entire keg between the three of us), eating out with Aubrey's mom, oh, and having Catherine Tran aka C.Tran aka skank ho come visit me for a week (pleasant surprise). spring break 09... it shall be.. queer.

I am in complete slump. Thinking about my future makes me queasy and nervous as fuck. So far:

-graduate in a year
-mayhaps acquire art degree in graphic design?
-open the bar (gimli's)
-study environmental law
-stop sucking

ugh. my head hurts. I think I may be depressed. I'm getting a headache debating if I am or not. It's hard to tell because everyone here is fucking depressed - so you don't know if you're just subconsciously imitating their behaviors or if it's all just a facade and at the end of the day - you truly are just yuppie shit.

I think it's the latter. I am yuppie shit. complain complain grumble grumble parents help me out on rent. my god. That's the answer. I'm not depressed. I am just Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted- young, talented, smoker... and spoiled little girl that went mentally insane because she's full of herself and had to write a book about her 'experiences' and tell the world about, again, herself. This blog is the thesis of Girl, Interrupted. fuck me.

Someone slap me.

My worst fear is finding out that Cleveland wasn't the answer after all. Just like NYC isn't. Or Chicago. Or Prague. Or anytime I run away to a new city to try and 'fix' whatever is wrong with me. I don't think I want to be wayward my entire life. It's a funny character flaw now - but in 50 years when I am god knows where and alone in some dingy apartment, I think I'd be in agony about how much I miss these days.

It is also 4:14 a.m. You read this and agree that everything I just said was full of shit. Or, you could say 'fuck it' and join me in Cleveland. Your call.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Dear Christina

You have convinced me to write more in my blog. It truly didn't take much to make me update - I have a project to work on and some communication theories to memorize. You just happened to be the instigator that provided another procrastination route I can take besides reading articles from The Onion and Facebook stalking my boyfriend (just kidding, Austin... but not really.)

I have decided to change majors. I hate journalism. Farewell ghastly and bleak future of writing obituaries and wedding announcements! I am switching to Napology. It has promise... though, it's a lot of hard work. I estimate that I would have to study (i.e. take an outrageous fatty nap) around 4-5 hours a day. I don't know if I can handle it... I don't know how good the department is at Seattle University. I should contact some professors and set up a few meetings so I can learn more about the philosophy of Napology; the problem is that I can never contact them during the day... they're always out in the field taking naps. It is just such a brand new profession, I am worried that I won't get a job right away after college. But, it's a chance I'm going to take because I am so impassioned about Napology. I figure I can just get an internship at the local kindergarten school. There's no pay, but I'll be able to get experience at Nap Time.

Nothing really new and earthquake shakin' has happened in my life. Well, I went in for my second interview as a waitress at Pho Tai today. Let me just tell you about the little Vietnamese restaurant on Pine St. across the street from Bauhaus Coffee + Books... it's hella sketch. The first question the guy asked me "would you prefer to be paid in check or cash?" Now, my ignorant yuppie middle-classed ass was confused and responded with, "whatever is easiest for you..." Turns out it was secret immigrant speak that basically decodes to "do you have a greencard and if not, we can pay you under the table and you won't be taxed for it."

After that, I am pretty sure my sad little future has been sealed. That was the defining moment for all future jobs I will take in my life.

Listening to some music of the indie-girl rock persuasion and am debating doing a big fuckall to gross pile of horseshit in front of me. It isn't hard since I hella skipped this morning and am not quite sure what exactly is in the pile of horseshit nor do I really care to sift through the pile to figure out what I have to do.

I cannot wait for this week to be over. My only wish right now is to be able to score free food at the dumpster behind Trader Joe's and to be blessed with sunshine, puppies, and Jews.

Hope you are doing well, Aphrodite... I mean... Christina.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Dear dirtbag in the mirror,

-being sober
-my cruddy mattress
-being fatty unemployed loser/bum
-crazy ICP clowns that parade around being poets that are preventing me from going back to old crummy job of delivering pizzas to yuppie scums of capitol hill area
-being forced to debate between wearing shoes or sandals every morning when I take a look at the weather. there's no point, rain, I'm always gonna pick sandals.
-school/hardwork. either or
-my sociology group
-constantly waiting for spring break to come - but finally realizing that it is NEVER going to come. my dream of taking the MOST obscene perverted nap ever is being dashed repeatedly by the titties
-thinking about the future
-job hunting

-napping with you
-experimenting with vegetarian dishes
-squatting by the reflection pool for fatty ciggie break
-making futures plans about the bar. aka 'gimli's'
-simple living
-the occasional rare rays of sunshine on my back
-D.H. Lawrence
-sneak-attacking dogs at the dog park
-being awake at night when everyone is asleep

Aubrey is talking in her sleep again. She just asked me 'did you want blue for your background picture?' I laughed uproariously because I knew she wasn't directing the question at me. It's never directed at me. I just prod her along asking her mindless questions hoping to get some kind of interesting response. I once asked her: "do you like to touch penguins?"

Enough procrastinating. I must write this paper. fuckin sociology.

Your very irritated pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh

P.S. Put some ice packs underneath your eyes. The whole 'haven't slept in days' look is disgusting. You are scum. How you ever got a man is beyond explanation.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

you are my sunshine

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love WUB you
Please don't take my sunshine away.

I sang this song to a dog today. An old lady stopped, stared, and asked Cherlaine if I was singing to the dog. She said yes, and took a puff of her cigarette. The nice old lady said that was her kid's favorite song growing up.

I hella skipped, bought a new pack of marbs, sang to a dog, melted some brie on top of Danish bread, ate it, smoked a ciggie, and I sat by the church and soaked in the sunshine. Oh, and I contemplated having an affair with my communications professor - only because he is brilliant and (personally) very attractive (hella old though).

It was a nice day.

I'm sorry about your loss though. Hope I somewhat cheered you up with my small but meaningful gestures. You are my sunshine.