I hit a bird yesterday with my car. I hit the bird in mid-flight as I was driving home across the 56. The first though then went through my head was, shit, did it crack my windshield? The second thought that went through my head was, fuck, there must be blood over my car. At a distant third was, gosh, there is no way that bird survived that.

I guess I expected to feel more remorse or distress about the situation. However, instead of feeling somber for the rest of the way home, I felt more relieved than anything else. Relieved that my car hadn’t suffered any damage and relieved that I didn’t end up hitting the cars around me with useless swerving. I mean, it wasn’t really my fault, but at the end of the day, no matter how you look at it, there’s one less song bird in this world.

I felt guilty about failing to be sincerely sad that something innocent had died. Could it be I’m changing?

I think I’ll spend time this weekend at balboa park to feed some birds to make myself feel better.

[ esca | 5:49 PM | ]

 

Random thoughts for previous week:


Ate at Roppongi’s last week. Trendy chic asian food that doesn’t taste like asian food, and doesn’t cost like asian food. When I think of asian food, I’m thinking of some sautéed beef strips laid out on steamed rice with runny egg yolk over everything, all for less than 3 bucks from Chinatown.

Graduations are sad. They mean for a lot of people, a chance to move on to different things, and for a lot of people, the signal of an end to an era. Well, you know what they say, you have to lose it all to get it back again.

80% of asian girls that I meet randomly now have ethnic names. Like Sakura, or Mei-ling. I remember a long time ago, if you didn’t have a romanized name, that you made one up specifically for introductions, if nothing else, so they wouldn’t forget your name later in the conversation. Now its almost as if it’s the other way around, and you either give your ethnic name to strangers or you choose one you like. Maybe I should start introducing myself as Kai more, you know give into the crowd, much easier than thinking for yourself.

Whiskey is actually a very subtle drink, easy to down and packs a nice kick too. Very recently, its become my bois du jour, but then again it seems like everything has been my bois du jour lately.

I think thought transcends emotions. People are not inherently happy nor are they inherently sad. Rather, one makes a conscious choice to be either happy or sad by choosing what to think on their mind. It may just be, a person can’t help being sad because almost everything in their life, everything that they can and do think about makes them sad. I need to think outside the box.

Started picking out furniture for my new place and realized I have little clue or background in this. Help! I need a woman’s touch. Taking applications. So far, I’ve established that with my light colored carpet I should aim to create an open setting that exemplifies space and serenity. I asked if a dark colored sofa would work, only to get a few startled and aghast expressions. I mean what was I thinking? Black would immediately close up the space, and contribute to an overly stern and structured living room. How faux pas.

Hmm, I’m working in the French phrases here. Funny how I’ve spent six years studying it(minus one year of productivity actually, due to teacher leaving to become stewardess), and yet all I can do is use minor catch phrases here and there. Oh, and root for the Zidane and the French national football team. Except they got rocked. Actually, they got their balls snipped off and handed back to them in a little glass jar, pardon my French.

Ma cherie, comment je te manque. Je tout plains et maintanent, j’ai besoin de toi.

My life is a fabrication. It’s a complete collage of the nonsensical. I went out everyday last week, but only to see a different group of people everyday. Last Monday, it was with my softball group, then Tuesday it was with my old high school girl crew, and then Wednesday it with was with my very special dearest, and then Thursday with my party inclined med schooler, and then Friday with my other-worlders, and Saturday with my ex, and Sunday with my family introduced golfers. Maybe I can bludgeon myself into not caring by slamming my head against a piano. Yeah, I think I’ll go do that.

[ esca | 1:14 PM | ]

 

I’ve realized why girls get along better with assholes. One, girls don’t expect anything out of an asshole(but expect the world from nice guys). Two, girls aren’t shocked if an asshole does something bad(however its excommunication for a nice guy). Three, that blank expression “you better know exactly what is going on in my mind” doesn’t fucking work unless the guy cares(and nice guys care).

[ esca | 5:35 PM | ]

 

Hey I guess its summer time now, the days are long and the nights are getting warmer. For the first time in my life, summer time doesn’t really carry any great or significant meaning. For me, summer’s has always meant a time to be carefree and blissfully ignorant of the complicated issues that surround life. Most importantly, its a time to take a break from school and all the seriousness that comes with it. But then I’ve already been on break from school, extended break really, as I guess I probably ought to decide once and for all soon what approach I will take to graduate school. Maybe I need just a break from life.

Anyways, as I was saying, its summer time now, because people that I know who are still in school, are finishing up tests and their projects and are beginning to trickle back into San Diego. Here’s to hope of you all having a memorable one.

Last week has been a blast, last couple of weeks actually. Jon has come back home…gimpy as ever. He has been a constant source for witty yet keen observation about the trivial. Frank has come home too, and I’m waiting for the rest of my beloved bunch to arrive as well.

I ended up spending time with Frank last week and we were able to catch a day game down at Qualcomm, where sadly the padres got romped. It was very disappointing actually, as we had not even finished tailgating outside in the parking lot, and heading in the middle of the 1st. I looked up on the scoreboard and noticed to my horror that Bobby Jones had given up the worst gopher ball of them all in the top of the 1st, a grand slam home run which would prove be to more offense than we could muster for the rest of the day. Its like waking up and getting sick from something you had at breakfast, ruining the rest of what could have been an enjoyable day. Anyways, it was still fun, Frank and I ended up going to the batting cages/driving range after the game to wait out traffic. I think I did alright, after sucking it up big time in the beginning. I had actually bruised my hand earlier so I had difficulty grasping my bat. I think though, that it ended up eventually helping, because it forced me to extended my arms and really shorten up my swing, which then in turn gave me more time to stay back on the ball. Frank was impressive as he hit the ball well from both sides of the plate. Afterwards, we topped off the day by taking out our aggression on little white golf balls.
Fun stuff.

There’s one more story of note I wanted to mention too. I was downtown Friday with Kien and we were trying to figure out a good way to spend his 2-3hrs study break. Poor guy, he’s enslaving himself to his studies in order to spend the next 8 years in relative poverty. But he’ll get an MD out of it. Anyways, we’re walking toward E from 4 ave when we see this completely inebriated idiot standing in the middle of the street and jumping in front of cars screaming incoherent phrases. The good Samaritan bystanders meanwhile are trying to coax him out of the street and out of trouble. The guy looked youngish probably vacationing from college, and probably was not used to being drunk in public. As we tried to needle our way through the crowd, you could hear people making comments along the lines of the, “oh my god, what an idiot,” “he’s going to get thrown in jail,” “I hope he doesn’t hurt himself,” variety. Sure enough, as when we passed back in that direction, the guy had drawn the unfortunate attention of San Diego’s finest men in blue. Poor guy, he was bawling like it was nobody’s business as the cops were definitely roughing him up. He was being held face down in the street with one cop elevating his arms high behind his back in cuffs, while another cop had the heel of his boot mashed down on the side of the guy’s face into the nasty gutter. Maybe the cops just wanted to teach him a lesson, and I’m pretty sure he learned something behind bars too. Poor dumb bastard.

[ esca | 1:34 PM | ]

 

My friend described me as a disgruntled Socrates trying to become a simple pig. I sorta like that. He was telling me that I end up concerning myself with too many things, especially things I have no control over. Consequently, I become disenchanted with what I feel powerless to change. The simple pig though, is really just the person who is blissfully ignorant of the sadness in this world, and gets by on by what makes him happy inside. Have you ever felt that you’ve been happier when you really were just less aware? Clueless even, but comprehending and understanding of what little that you did know? As with all things, the best is probably to find some optimal balance, and chip away at the world.

[ esca | 1:29 PM | ]