I see that you once again awoke this morning with crusty eyes, a pounding headache, mouth reeking of champagne and Pabst Blue Ribbon, and clutching your baby pillow with all your might. You disgust me. However, I congratulate you on Obama's win - I know how much that meant to you. Although, I see you have gone back on your word and did NOT show up to class again this morning for the 4th straight week. Do you have no shame? Did Obama's win not inspire you to get up and do good in the world? What the fuck happened? PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER FOR FUCK'S SAKE. Look at your sorry state. NO MAN WOULD WANT YOU NOW.
I would also like to comment that you have regained peace with Seattle - although there is still tension in the air over issues that are currently sans resolutions - you and Seattle have come together through nonpartisan means to live in peace together. For right now. It's very big of you. Until you bomb the space needle in a fury of outrage for still being single after 19 years. But you know, that's between you and Seattle.
I would like to apologize though, on behalf of California. For Ellen and Portia and for all your lesbian/gay friends that are currently drowning their sorrows with a guy named Jack Daniels and are slowly losing hope for their future back in your home state (and in Washington). I just wanted to tell you - don't lose faith. Obama's win was great for the country (and the world), but I am fairly confident that things will be different from now on; he won't let us down. California was a setback and I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to vote NO on Prop 8, but you got a chance to vote for Obama - baby steps, baby. Baby steps. Your friends deserve a chance to be happy, to be in love, and I know you'll fight long and hard by their sides until they get that equal footing as everybody else (as it should've been in the first place).
By the by, I thought it was hilarious that for someone in your sorry state of appearances - you are allowed to walk right into bars and order drinks. Just LOOK at you! You don't look anything at all like your fake i.d. picture! You look like you are twelve! And yet! And yet! You were able to order a Barack Attack and consume it in under 5 minutes. Then, oh, I laughed so hard when you walked right into Neumos and ordered a sour whiskey and watched the election briefly yesterday. The bouncer even called you out on your fake! He laughed, you laughed, he let you in, you got stinkin' pissed out of your mind and roared with the crowd whenever Obama appeared on screen and booed with the crowd whenever McCain appeared. Oh, it was so hilarious. Although, I am slightly concerned for your liver. I think you may be a little bit of an alcoholic. Just a little. And, you're kinda racist. You're a racist, alcoholic consuming little Asian girl. Who cannot hold their liquor.
But no! You didn't stop at the many bars you went to! You scurried home right away to break open some champagne with your gal pals, didn't cha? Then you went to see the play DRUNK as hell. You had absolutely no idea what the play was about, did you? You make me sad. Alas though, such good news rang in the air when you recieved a text message from your pal that confirmed Obama's win. SUCH JOY! You quickly scurried back to the apartment, passing people honking their horns, shouting, laughing, popped a bottle of champagne and toasted his win with the people you love the most. Then you got stinkin' drunk again. Oh, but this time it was so much better. You were drunk with your amazing friends. You guys thus proceeded to tallyho out into the world, get into the car, play Forever by Chris Brown on repeat, drive down Broadway - and because you were so pissed out of your mind, you stuck your head out the sunroof and screamed OBAMAAAA!!!!!!! and the people responded! Oh, I have never seen such joy! The peoples were laughin', dancin', singing', pissin' in the streets. The people were JOYOUS and they had come together for one night to celebrate the victory of not just one man, but for the victory of the citizens of Lady Liberty. Seattle truly was amazing last night. Admit it, you kinda love Seattle again, don't you? Yeah, I know you do.
Chin up, kid. Life ain't so bad, now is it? Last night proved it. I'll tell you why you're so happy. It's a little thing called hope. Don't let go of that feeling - it'll save your fucking ass one day.
Just do me a favor, will ya? Start going to classes. And for fuck's sake, clean yourself up and pull yourself together. You look like a homeless man.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Dear Lisa Chang
Hello, Lisa Chang.
I just wanted to preface this by saying that even though I'm not quite sure what you think of me sometimes; I know that deep down you really lo** me (I won't actually type out the emotion). Despite the eye rolls, the glares, the sarcastic comments thrown in my direction, the guffaws at my incapability at being able to make anything edible (i.e. almost burning the apartment down by trying to microwave bagel bites/ eating plastic and raw bacon because I was so hungry) - I know you think that even though I am a strange creature still stuck in the 90s - you find me absolutely delightful. I brighten up your world with my paranoia and drunkeness.
I am glad that you are my roommate. It makes things a lot easier to have you a few feet away. For some reason, my body is wired to be able to fine tune when you are cooking something - even if I am outside smoking or in my room in the dark watching anime - I can ALWAYS tell when you turn the stove on. This causes a chain reaction, making me get up quickly, put some pants on, and run out to the kitchen and awkwardly hover by your side until you sigh really loudly, turn around, and ask "would you like some?" - and I go, "what? I didn't know you were cooking, Lisa Chang, of course I would like some! Thank you very much for asking!"
Not only does your cooking keep me alive and slightly more healthy then usual, but you are just so damn clean. I have NEVER met anyone so obsessed with being clean. I have never met anyone that sprays perfume on their sheets before going to bed. Of course, being the goofball that I am, I take your perfume bottle and instead of spraying only two small sprays that allows a lovely smell to float and linger - I spray half the bottle - thus causing Aubrey Jackson, the person forced to live with me within the confines of our small little room - to start coughing wildly and unable to breathe properly.
I admire you, Lisa Chang. You actually get up in the morning. This baffles me. I haven't left the apartment in weeks - including going to classes and going to work. I will occasionally get up to smoke a cigarette (maybe); but you have trained yourself with your fucking alarm clock system that wakes everybody up in the house. As annoying as it is, we are all scared shitless to confront you about this obnoxious system. So, you may continue Lisa Chang, with your 5 different alarm clock system.
As my only Republican friend, I must say you certainly exude all the symptons of a gal from a Republican family in LA. Everyone in the house often jokes about your obsession with prescription pills and collecting magazines. Do you just hole yourself up in your room and pop pills and go through magazines while cutting pictures out? Even though you have stopped drinking and smoking - you have found other methods to escape the world. While it may not be as obnoxious as Aubrey and I's filthy drunkeness or Sarah's addiction to pot (yes, I used the word addiction because it is true) - it's still pretty damn funny.
I am often reminded of one of the very first things that you said to me in the beginning of our friendship: "I don't know why I like you." I constantly bring this up even though you hate it when I mention that line bcause it just rings with truth. We have nothing in common. You are fabulous. And I? I am merely a lowly peasant. Alas though! Opposites attract! You find me strange and entertaining and I find you an oddball of miscellaneous quirks that I just don't understand. For example, we just don't understand why you don't just walk outside in your lingerie all the time. The world needs to see you like everybody in the house does - in La Perla panties and bras. It's just such a waste on us. Instead of turning us on, you make us feel ashamed of our unhealthy habits and our inability to be as fabulous as you. I am reminded of the time when Cherlaine opened the bathroom door to find you in your bra and she cowers in fright! She screams! And she averts her eyes because she knows if she stares any longer at Aphrodite she'll crumble into dust!
But Lisa Chang, not only are you a pill-popping lingerie-wearing neat freak, but you also have balls. You actually went outside in your bathrobe (the fucking bathrobe!) and confronted the neighbors and told them to be quiet. Best sleep of my life. Sometimes I truly wish you were a man. You'd make an awesome guy - even in your bathrobe (the fucking bathrobe!).
Even though you hate sharing, I am reminded of the one night you allowed me to crawl into your bed and sleep with you. I shivered the entire night because everytime I tried to pull the blanket over me, you somehow shift positions and take the measly little corner I was able to nab away from me. As much as you despise sharing, I awoke that morning fully wrapped like an eskimo in your blanket. I have never felt so much love for you then at that moment. You knew I had shivered the entire night and was shoved against the wall - but alas! I awake to find myself fully covered in your blanket! Such an act of kindness from Lisa Chang is possible!
I was thus able to form an understanding about our relationship from that night:
I shall willingly suffer throughout an entire night in the cold just to be able to awake in your blanket. Because it smells so damn good.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
I just wanted to preface this by saying that even though I'm not quite sure what you think of me sometimes; I know that deep down you really lo** me (I won't actually type out the emotion). Despite the eye rolls, the glares, the sarcastic comments thrown in my direction, the guffaws at my incapability at being able to make anything edible (i.e. almost burning the apartment down by trying to microwave bagel bites/ eating plastic and raw bacon because I was so hungry) - I know you think that even though I am a strange creature still stuck in the 90s - you find me absolutely delightful. I brighten up your world with my paranoia and drunkeness.
I am glad that you are my roommate. It makes things a lot easier to have you a few feet away. For some reason, my body is wired to be able to fine tune when you are cooking something - even if I am outside smoking or in my room in the dark watching anime - I can ALWAYS tell when you turn the stove on. This causes a chain reaction, making me get up quickly, put some pants on, and run out to the kitchen and awkwardly hover by your side until you sigh really loudly, turn around, and ask "would you like some?" - and I go, "what? I didn't know you were cooking, Lisa Chang, of course I would like some! Thank you very much for asking!"
Not only does your cooking keep me alive and slightly more healthy then usual, but you are just so damn clean. I have NEVER met anyone so obsessed with being clean. I have never met anyone that sprays perfume on their sheets before going to bed. Of course, being the goofball that I am, I take your perfume bottle and instead of spraying only two small sprays that allows a lovely smell to float and linger - I spray half the bottle - thus causing Aubrey Jackson, the person forced to live with me within the confines of our small little room - to start coughing wildly and unable to breathe properly.
I admire you, Lisa Chang. You actually get up in the morning. This baffles me. I haven't left the apartment in weeks - including going to classes and going to work. I will occasionally get up to smoke a cigarette (maybe); but you have trained yourself with your fucking alarm clock system that wakes everybody up in the house. As annoying as it is, we are all scared shitless to confront you about this obnoxious system. So, you may continue Lisa Chang, with your 5 different alarm clock system.
As my only Republican friend, I must say you certainly exude all the symptons of a gal from a Republican family in LA. Everyone in the house often jokes about your obsession with prescription pills and collecting magazines. Do you just hole yourself up in your room and pop pills and go through magazines while cutting pictures out? Even though you have stopped drinking and smoking - you have found other methods to escape the world. While it may not be as obnoxious as Aubrey and I's filthy drunkeness or Sarah's addiction to pot (yes, I used the word addiction because it is true) - it's still pretty damn funny.
I am often reminded of one of the very first things that you said to me in the beginning of our friendship: "I don't know why I like you." I constantly bring this up even though you hate it when I mention that line bcause it just rings with truth. We have nothing in common. You are fabulous. And I? I am merely a lowly peasant. Alas though! Opposites attract! You find me strange and entertaining and I find you an oddball of miscellaneous quirks that I just don't understand. For example, we just don't understand why you don't just walk outside in your lingerie all the time. The world needs to see you like everybody in the house does - in La Perla panties and bras. It's just such a waste on us. Instead of turning us on, you make us feel ashamed of our unhealthy habits and our inability to be as fabulous as you. I am reminded of the time when Cherlaine opened the bathroom door to find you in your bra and she cowers in fright! She screams! And she averts her eyes because she knows if she stares any longer at Aphrodite she'll crumble into dust!
But Lisa Chang, not only are you a pill-popping lingerie-wearing neat freak, but you also have balls. You actually went outside in your bathrobe (the fucking bathrobe!) and confronted the neighbors and told them to be quiet. Best sleep of my life. Sometimes I truly wish you were a man. You'd make an awesome guy - even in your bathrobe (the fucking bathrobe!).
Even though you hate sharing, I am reminded of the one night you allowed me to crawl into your bed and sleep with you. I shivered the entire night because everytime I tried to pull the blanket over me, you somehow shift positions and take the measly little corner I was able to nab away from me. As much as you despise sharing, I awoke that morning fully wrapped like an eskimo in your blanket. I have never felt so much love for you then at that moment. You knew I had shivered the entire night and was shoved against the wall - but alas! I awake to find myself fully covered in your blanket! Such an act of kindness from Lisa Chang is possible!
I was thus able to form an understanding about our relationship from that night:
I shall willingly suffer throughout an entire night in the cold just to be able to awake in your blanket. Because it smells so damn good.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
Monday, November 3, 2008
Dear Childhood
Ella told me about this great website: http://www.seventytwowords.com/
It's basically a story in 72 words - and only 72 words. I've been obsessed with reading all the works that people have submitted. So, I decided to try it out instead of actually doing anything productive... like homework.
Carolyn quietly took her shame in small doses. Walked instead of ran, back into her room, changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth without being told to, and crawled into bed. It would take her another eight years to realize that she didn’t have to be so lonely growing up. She could’ve been different. She could have been friends with her mother, who turned out, was just as lonely as she was.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
It's basically a story in 72 words - and only 72 words. I've been obsessed with reading all the works that people have submitted. So, I decided to try it out instead of actually doing anything productive... like homework.
Carolyn quietly took her shame in small doses. Walked instead of ran, back into her room, changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth without being told to, and crawled into bed. It would take her another eight years to realize that she didn’t have to be so lonely growing up. She could’ve been different. She could have been friends with her mother, who turned out, was just as lonely as she was.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
Dear Universe
I realize that I have been really hard on you lately. I blame you for my sad little existence. Okay, maybe it hasn't been lately. Maybe it has been 19 years that I've shitted on you. But you started it first. Everybody knows you did!
Tomorrow is the deciding factor. Obama vs. McCain. As a journalism major, I've been terrible at following the election process. I admit it wholeheartedly. Yes, I read the NYtimes (it is my homepage), yes, I've watched a good chunk of the debates, I curiously YouTubed Tina Fey's impression of Sarah Palin, of course, thoroughly enjoyed it, had many discussions about the election in my journalism class, yes yes all that good stuff. However, I will also admit that everytime I get an email from Barack/Michelle Obama - I delete that shit. I have also hung up on every Obama supporter that has called me at the oddest times during the night to ask for money or ask for my support in voting for Obama. If it's 2 a.m. in the morning, I'm not really in a patriotic mood and gunho about Obama. Also, I apologize for my cursing. You must realize how late it is. You must also realize that I have always been a supporter of Obama. There were times where I wavered and wasn't quite sure about all his grandiose plans. I mean, where is he going to get all the funding/money? But for some odd reason, I have faith. I need change. I think the world needs change.
I've been selfish lately. I've been thinking mostly of myself. Where is my earthquake shattering moment? Me me me. I realize now that I am just one in the many that need change. I have neglected my duties as a citizen, as a student, and as a friend. America needs change. America needs Obama. I have been apathetic for a very long time. Uncaring, unresponsive, unrequited towards those that have reached out to me. I saw Obama speak in Seattle last year. Riveting. I have never felt more alive and more "American" as I did that day. It also felt pretty college. Oh, you know, the freshmen in college talking politics over cigarettes and coffee. It was also all bullshit. Talking about politics isn't going to get anywhere. It's called action. Taking initiative. Baby steps for me.
I realize now that tomorrow's decision is what should - no, what will make me stand up; make me get up in the morning, go out and do good. This isn't some crap New Year's resolution either where I say I'll quit smoking and not quit smoking - this is called "promise". If the junior Senator of Chicago can make it all the way to a showdown to be the leader of the free world - I need to start going to classes. It's called showing promise. It's called being a citizen, a student, and a friend. I have been slumming for far too long. I realize now that my earthquake is tomorrow. I am voting for Obama not because he's popular, charismatic, African-American - but because I realize that he is my earthquake. I have faith - and honestly, that's saying a lot for me.
I really don't care who you vote for. Why should I reprimand you for who you believe will help benefit this country more? In the end, we all want what's best. And I just so happen to believe in Obama. Although, I must say, the only Republican friend that I have is actually voting for Obama (cough Lisa Chang). When she told me she was voting for Obama- that was it. My vote for Obama was officially sealed. If you guys know Lisa - you KNOW she is the biggest Republican the world has ever met. (fast cars & monies rawr rawr)
I remember in the 90s when I was in the 2nd grade and we held "fake" elections and cast our ballots for either Clinton or Bob Dole. I remember voting for Clinton because Bob Dole looked scary and Clinton looked like a nice man. I realize now that appearances aren't everything. (Although Obama is vry vry seksi and Clinton was an excellent preseident. slutty. but good) I am very proud to be 19 and to be apart of the biggest presidential race ever. There are times when I talk about leaving America and renouncing citizenship - but I realize that I always run.
I think I should stop running.
I won't be drinking my sorrows away tomorrow night, instead, I shall be celebrating with good friends and a bottle of champagne. I am alive to see a young and intelligent man with a gameplan of changing the fate of this country become President of the United States tomorrow night. And I will be a proud citizen, student, and friend tomorrow.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
Tomorrow is the deciding factor. Obama vs. McCain. As a journalism major, I've been terrible at following the election process. I admit it wholeheartedly. Yes, I read the NYtimes (it is my homepage), yes, I've watched a good chunk of the debates, I curiously YouTubed Tina Fey's impression of Sarah Palin, of course, thoroughly enjoyed it, had many discussions about the election in my journalism class, yes yes all that good stuff. However, I will also admit that everytime I get an email from Barack/Michelle Obama - I delete that shit. I have also hung up on every Obama supporter that has called me at the oddest times during the night to ask for money or ask for my support in voting for Obama. If it's 2 a.m. in the morning, I'm not really in a patriotic mood and gunho about Obama. Also, I apologize for my cursing. You must realize how late it is. You must also realize that I have always been a supporter of Obama. There were times where I wavered and wasn't quite sure about all his grandiose plans. I mean, where is he going to get all the funding/money? But for some odd reason, I have faith. I need change. I think the world needs change.
I've been selfish lately. I've been thinking mostly of myself. Where is my earthquake shattering moment? Me me me. I realize now that I am just one in the many that need change. I have neglected my duties as a citizen, as a student, and as a friend. America needs change. America needs Obama. I have been apathetic for a very long time. Uncaring, unresponsive, unrequited towards those that have reached out to me. I saw Obama speak in Seattle last year. Riveting. I have never felt more alive and more "American" as I did that day. It also felt pretty college. Oh, you know, the freshmen in college talking politics over cigarettes and coffee. It was also all bullshit. Talking about politics isn't going to get anywhere. It's called action. Taking initiative. Baby steps for me.
I realize now that tomorrow's decision is what should - no, what will make me stand up; make me get up in the morning, go out and do good. This isn't some crap New Year's resolution either where I say I'll quit smoking and not quit smoking - this is called "promise". If the junior Senator of Chicago can make it all the way to a showdown to be the leader of the free world - I need to start going to classes. It's called showing promise. It's called being a citizen, a student, and a friend. I have been slumming for far too long. I realize now that my earthquake is tomorrow. I am voting for Obama not because he's popular, charismatic, African-American - but because I realize that he is my earthquake. I have faith - and honestly, that's saying a lot for me.
I really don't care who you vote for. Why should I reprimand you for who you believe will help benefit this country more? In the end, we all want what's best. And I just so happen to believe in Obama. Although, I must say, the only Republican friend that I have is actually voting for Obama (cough Lisa Chang). When she told me she was voting for Obama- that was it. My vote for Obama was officially sealed. If you guys know Lisa - you KNOW she is the biggest Republican the world has ever met. (fast cars & monies rawr rawr)
I remember in the 90s when I was in the 2nd grade and we held "fake" elections and cast our ballots for either Clinton or Bob Dole. I remember voting for Clinton because Bob Dole looked scary and Clinton looked like a nice man. I realize now that appearances aren't everything. (Although Obama is vry vry seksi and Clinton was an excellent preseident. slutty. but good) I am very proud to be 19 and to be apart of the biggest presidential race ever. There are times when I talk about leaving America and renouncing citizenship - but I realize that I always run.
I think I should stop running.
I won't be drinking my sorrows away tomorrow night, instead, I shall be celebrating with good friends and a bottle of champagne. I am alive to see a young and intelligent man with a gameplan of changing the fate of this country become President of the United States tomorrow night. And I will be a proud citizen, student, and friend tomorrow.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
Dear Christina
I was so excited to hear your voice for a mere 5 minutes last night. I apologize for calling you while you in bed with your man. I keep forgetting you have someone to love and hold at night now (even though you guys have been together for over a year now; I still secretly wish you were still single so you can be bitter with me. I'm kidding. Kinda.) I saw that you had commented on my blog at 1:49 am in the morning and in my haste I eagerly picked up the phone and dialed your number very quickly. Even though you were slightly irritated and tired, the tears almost came to my face when I heard that irritation creep into your voice. I miss that. I miss you slapping sense into me. Actually, I just miss you in general.
I am saddened that I won't be seeing you and Crystal this Thanksgiving. I would've loved to see your stupid face and Crystal's stupid face again. I am completely burnt out on Seattle. I've been up here for so long, I can't even remember home anymore. You guys were always home for me. California is just a place that houses the Hughes sisters and I wish I were back there again - just to see your stupid nasty-ass faces.
It has been a very long time since I've heard any news from you. I understand that you are very busy. You know, being fabulous and all in LA. With your fabulous friends and your fabulous city and all that shitz. But I really miss you. A lot. I have decided to take a "Carolyn" day and skip classes. I am currently sitting in the library, drinking Stumptown coffee, and dedicating this entry to you. I was just thinking of that time when you heartily skipped school with me and we flew in haste to San Francisco to see Conan O'Brien. Only you would do that with me. Only you understand my sad little obsession for the red-headed man. Even though we didn't get to see him, you waited in line with me for hours; and that has meant the world to me. Although, I am still kinda pissed that you didn't stop me from running into on-coming San Francisco traffic just to get a Conan hat. You just wanted a hat too - so you were willing to sacrifice me to recieve one. It's okay, I really wanted a hat too. And I'm still alive. So it all worked out in the end.
I am pretty sick of Seattle, not gonna lie. I have nothing going for me. I am a loser. I never finished that novel, you know. I know... I know.. you have always encouraged me to be a writer. You always believed in me. But, for right now, at this point in my life, I would rather play World of Warcraft and be the same old self-deprecating piece of shit like always. Never changing. I have always meant to dedicate my first book/novel/screenplay/whathaveyou to you. I even have the dedication all worked out:
To my friend, Christina (Minh Minh) Hughes - for teaching me how to put on make-up.
Like it? Before I met you, I was in an even worse slump then I am in now. You took me under your wing and showed me how to be a girl and clean myself up. Sadly, I have let myself go. I have no one to put makeup on in the morning. I look like complete shit on a daily basis. That's okay, I'm fine with that. It's not like I actually go anywhere. I still sit in the dark, staring at my computer screen for hours on end. I have grown disgustingly pale. Even paler then I was in California. But you know, I couldn't escape the sunshine there. There's simply nothing to escape here. I have been called malnourished by Lisa Chang and Albino by a homeless man. I hate Seattle.
I hope everything is going well for you back home. Give my love to Crystal. I hope you are still being charming, intelligent, and still retaining that gusto of yours. You know the gusto. "I want to change the world, I want to save the environment, I want to live in Africa and volunteer, I want to be fabulous for the rest of my life." I have always admired that in you. You make me want to be a better person. But, alas, I am still an ass and I've grown somewhat dick-ish. This city makes me want to punch babies and kick puppies.
I love you and miss you terribly.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
P.S. You weren't wrong when you said that all the losers come to Seattle cause they never made it anywhere else. I'm here, ain't I?
I am saddened that I won't be seeing you and Crystal this Thanksgiving. I would've loved to see your stupid face and Crystal's stupid face again. I am completely burnt out on Seattle. I've been up here for so long, I can't even remember home anymore. You guys were always home for me. California is just a place that houses the Hughes sisters and I wish I were back there again - just to see your stupid nasty-ass faces.
It has been a very long time since I've heard any news from you. I understand that you are very busy. You know, being fabulous and all in LA. With your fabulous friends and your fabulous city and all that shitz. But I really miss you. A lot. I have decided to take a "Carolyn" day and skip classes. I am currently sitting in the library, drinking Stumptown coffee, and dedicating this entry to you. I was just thinking of that time when you heartily skipped school with me and we flew in haste to San Francisco to see Conan O'Brien. Only you would do that with me. Only you understand my sad little obsession for the red-headed man. Even though we didn't get to see him, you waited in line with me for hours; and that has meant the world to me. Although, I am still kinda pissed that you didn't stop me from running into on-coming San Francisco traffic just to get a Conan hat. You just wanted a hat too - so you were willing to sacrifice me to recieve one. It's okay, I really wanted a hat too. And I'm still alive. So it all worked out in the end.
I am pretty sick of Seattle, not gonna lie. I have nothing going for me. I am a loser. I never finished that novel, you know. I know... I know.. you have always encouraged me to be a writer. You always believed in me. But, for right now, at this point in my life, I would rather play World of Warcraft and be the same old self-deprecating piece of shit like always. Never changing. I have always meant to dedicate my first book/novel/screenplay/whathaveyou to you. I even have the dedication all worked out:
To my friend, Christina (Minh Minh) Hughes - for teaching me how to put on make-up.
Like it? Before I met you, I was in an even worse slump then I am in now. You took me under your wing and showed me how to be a girl and clean myself up. Sadly, I have let myself go. I have no one to put makeup on in the morning. I look like complete shit on a daily basis. That's okay, I'm fine with that. It's not like I actually go anywhere. I still sit in the dark, staring at my computer screen for hours on end. I have grown disgustingly pale. Even paler then I was in California. But you know, I couldn't escape the sunshine there. There's simply nothing to escape here. I have been called malnourished by Lisa Chang and Albino by a homeless man. I hate Seattle.
I hope everything is going well for you back home. Give my love to Crystal. I hope you are still being charming, intelligent, and still retaining that gusto of yours. You know the gusto. "I want to change the world, I want to save the environment, I want to live in Africa and volunteer, I want to be fabulous for the rest of my life." I have always admired that in you. You make me want to be a better person. But, alas, I am still an ass and I've grown somewhat dick-ish. This city makes me want to punch babies and kick puppies.
I love you and miss you terribly.
Your pal,
Carolyn K. Huynh
P.S. You weren't wrong when you said that all the losers come to Seattle cause they never made it anywhere else. I'm here, ain't I?
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Dear Jewish Boy
I can cite two incidences towards Jewish Boy that confirms true love. I have loved him since freshman year. I think he may be slightly mentally retarded though.
Incident #1:
September 29, 2003
Carolyn steps into the elevator and pushes the 6th floor button. She realizes that she isn’t alone in the elevator. She looks up and sees a scrawny, Jewish kid with huge curly afro-like hair, and Harry Potter-esque glasses.
She is immediately captivated.
Is this love at first sight? She asks herself.
He coughs.
I blink.
He coughs louder.
I blink twice.
Eventually, this cat and mouse game gets old, so she gets the courage to speak.
Hey, she says.
He nods his head.
Which floor do you live on?
I live in a realm unbeknownst to mankind, he says.
She falls even more in love. “Crazy Love” by Bob Dylan begins playing in the background.
I’m Carolyn. What’s your name?
He muses. Do you want my slave name or my real name?
I can feel a smile forming at the corners of my mouth. It was taking all the effort I had in my little body not to jump this kid and kiss him right then and there.
He answers the question for me. My name is *******.
What’s your real name? I ask.
It’s…*****.
I see.
Ding! Elevator opens.
I’ll see you later, he says.
Marry me, Carolyn thinks silently to herself as her hand is poised and ready to slap his ass.
Incident #2:
January 14, 2004
Carolyn walks into the cafeteria. She is so hungry she is willing to eat the shit that the school spews out. As she is waiting in line, ****** pops out of nowhere and her heart begins racing dramatically.
Hey.
Hey.
So, what are you up to tonight?
I shrug. Probably slaying some dragons.
He laughs. As if you can find any left in Seattle! I’ve slayed them all!
He walks off and Carolyn is left alone, shocked, standing in the pasta/salad line.
My heart hurts, she thinks to herself.
I realize now that love at first sight only works out when it’s reciprocated.
I still love you though, Jewish Boy. Keep on making me awkward every time we bump into each other on campus. I apologize in advance if I attack you. I am prone to do this every now and then.
Incident #1:
September 29, 2003
Carolyn steps into the elevator and pushes the 6th floor button. She realizes that she isn’t alone in the elevator. She looks up and sees a scrawny, Jewish kid with huge curly afro-like hair, and Harry Potter-esque glasses.
She is immediately captivated.
Is this love at first sight? She asks herself.
He coughs.
I blink.
He coughs louder.
I blink twice.
Eventually, this cat and mouse game gets old, so she gets the courage to speak.
Hey, she says.
He nods his head.
Which floor do you live on?
I live in a realm unbeknownst to mankind, he says.
She falls even more in love. “Crazy Love” by Bob Dylan begins playing in the background.
I’m Carolyn. What’s your name?
He muses. Do you want my slave name or my real name?
I can feel a smile forming at the corners of my mouth. It was taking all the effort I had in my little body not to jump this kid and kiss him right then and there.
He answers the question for me. My name is *******.
What’s your real name? I ask.
It’s…*****.
I see.
Ding! Elevator opens.
I’ll see you later, he says.
Marry me, Carolyn thinks silently to herself as her hand is poised and ready to slap his ass.
Incident #2:
January 14, 2004
Carolyn walks into the cafeteria. She is so hungry she is willing to eat the shit that the school spews out. As she is waiting in line, ****** pops out of nowhere and her heart begins racing dramatically.
Hey.
Hey.
So, what are you up to tonight?
I shrug. Probably slaying some dragons.
He laughs. As if you can find any left in Seattle! I’ve slayed them all!
He walks off and Carolyn is left alone, shocked, standing in the pasta/salad line.
My heart hurts, she thinks to herself.
I realize now that love at first sight only works out when it’s reciprocated.
I still love you though, Jewish Boy. Keep on making me awkward every time we bump into each other on campus. I apologize in advance if I attack you. I am prone to do this every now and then.
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