snooze smacker

the hotel lobby

2008-11-23T10:03:00.000-08:00

I was at a really fancy hotel. I walked through the revolving doors and noticed there was a baby sitting there in a pretty dangerous location. They weren't designed well and there was a space that created a corner. I imagined many people could get things caught--fingers, coats, bags, etc. This certainly wasn't a good place for a random baby to hang out. The child was quite content. I wondered why no one had done anything. Everyone kept going, and I did the same, while I thought that I should do something.

I went to the concierge. It was the nice front desk guy from the St. James that I see a few days a week. I told him about the baby in the revolving doors. He asked if it was crying, and I told him the child seemed quite happy. As we went into the revolving doors the older woman in front of us picked up the baby and held it so it was like the child was flying. This wasn't her kid, but I felt a lot less responsible now that someone had done something about the baby. I also felt dumb that I didn't just pick the kid up in the first place. I had to go get the concierge...

later I remember...

I went to the dessert table to get some tiramisu. I made a mess trying to get it on my plate because some woman said something to me while I was transferring the spoonful to my plate. I was distracted and looked away at a crucial moment. Then I realized that the woman had said something completely racist to me. She was really old, possibly a little crazy. I told her I didn't appreciate her commentary and walked away.

phone mess

2008-10-18T08:09:00.000-07:00

I got a call from the Pratt people. They thought I was on the phone, but it was my voice mail. They forgot to hang up after and I could hear them discussing the lackluster selection of candidates they had for this position. They were also getting high and giggling a lot.

I was walking through some artist's studio while listening to the message. I walked into one studio/gallery with a piece of my father's work. It was a film he made when he was in Paris as a young man. It was so unlike his style. I wondered what was different about that time for him that he had created work like that.

art room

2007-07-02T10:32:00.001-07:00

I had a dream that disoriented me for the rest of the day. I woke up in what I thought was my room. This often happens. I'm not really awake yet, it's not my real room--it was a large gymnasium type room with high ceilings--but I think for a second that I'm actually awake and that it is my room. You know what I'm talking about.

My bed was in the center. I'm not quite sure but I think it was more like a yo, a Korean style mat bed. I looked around my room which had been completely transformed into a site specific installation piece. I had painted the walls and made sculptural elements that bulged out out the floor and walls. Piece of burlap were layered and painted over in a messy way with white paint. Crazy writing covered the walls, things I can't quite remember, but they were juvenile scribblings with my name repeated over and over. There were burns in the sculptures and the whole room looked like the disturbed creations of a mentally ill artist--like someone who had been locked in a large studio, and this was the result of months of solitude. It looked like the kind of art piece I'd say is total crap, but other people might think it's deep because it's big or red, or depressing.

I was at first I was a bit impressed, then suddenly I was terrified. I hadn't remembered staying up all night and doing any of this to my room. What was worse was I realized I was a kid again. After some time of trying to tell adults that something crazy had happened to me and my room I gathered that I was at a boarding school for creative and performing arts. I was an art major. I spent the morning trying to explain that I wasn't crazy, that I was very scared, and I tried to get an adult to look at the work that had been done. Finally, I had two women come, but they didn't really look at the room, we were in the elevator and saw the room through the reflection in a mirror--through a window into my room, one I never knew was there. They looked at the room for like three seconds and then turned and walked away.

I was disoriented and couldn't find my bedroom again. I decided to go to the main office. I wanted to get someone to help me, I wanted to talk to someone in the Residential Life Department. I asked the woman at the desk who was in Res. Life, and she wanted to know why I needed to talk to someone so important. I didn't have an appointment, I was just a lowly student. I lost it. I started getting angry.

Finally I said that I have a problem and I want to talk to them about. Mrs. Cornblatt, my 4th grade teacher, was there. I ruined her carnations. Her and her husband had just planted a new tree or something and her husband sent her flowers because of this lovely event. I wanted to destroy something. I wanted her to understand that she needed to take me seriously. My mother sent me some potted roses and someone else sent me some flowers because they knew I was under some stress. A woman sitting in the cubicle next to Mrs. Cornblatt turned my flowers into a flower arrangement with a radio and we got some soup and went upstairs.

Finally someone was going to look and listen to me. By this point they had painted my room over. It was now much smaller than before. It had dark navy walls and had ugly clouds on it. Everything about what had previously happened to my room was being kept a secret. Up to this point I kept thinking I was crazy. I didn't remember why I did it or doing it at all. I was ashamed and devastated. Going over to the elevator with my tray of chowder and my flowers I thought to myself, I just don't want to be that girl. You know that crazy one. Then I started coming up with a theory that I must have been drugged. And I realized that maybe I hadn't done all that crazy stuff. Someone used my hand, or copied my signature all over. I was then convinced. They drugged me. While eating soup--I'm sure it was like a lobster bisque from Duke's in Seattle, we caught a guy taking photos of us. I put the bowl in front of my face. It was the woman's brother or something.

Then he was down in the school yard. I started banging on the window and saying "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" the other kids joined in and we were cursing. The man retreated into the school building and I felt like finally something would b done. He drugged me and he was a perv! And all the kids knew, and the lady knew it was her crazy brother. Then I woke up... I rolled over thinking that I meant to go back to something I was just doing--what? what was it? ...oh, the lobster bisque. I was so disappointed waking up that after all that stress I couldn't finish the lobster bisque.

Technorati Tags: dreams

little baby

2006-08-03T06:17:00.000-07:00

I had a dream that I was babysitting Zach's kid. His baby was really small. So small that I held her in my palm. I was taking this baby with me on some kind of excursion with a group of other people. The baby was agitated by the other people. We put her in her carrying case. The case resembled the one for my sunglasses.

**I think this has something to do with my most recent purchase of a tiny digital camera. It came with a small case that it slides into. I love my new camera.

chi town prep

2006-06-06T18:14:00.000-07:00

I was on my way to Chicago, but only for the weekend. Despite the short duration of the trip, I decided to pack almost everything I owned. I had a whole suitcase for my shoes. And I decided to bring my cat (I don't really own a cat). The cat was all black. It was the white cat from my childhood, Sam, but the complete polar opposite. This cat was sleeping quietly, Sam was a beast--wild and always active. I had a strange suitcase/carrying case with a litter box attached. I thought this was gross.

A drag king, Rick O'Shae was at my apartment. Rick was coming with me to Chicago. We were just packing our last items. We were going to miss our flight. There was no time. My grandmother, who suddenly was in my apartment, called my mother to talk to my uncle over three way. She couldn't get in touch with him so she wanted my mother to call. At first I was going to see my friend Matt Dicke, but then later in the dream I was going to see my Uncle Steve. In waking life he doesn't live in Chicago, and Matt just moved to Philadelphia...

I was embarrassed and had anxiety about the amount of stuff I was taking. I didn't want to carry that much, but if I didn't bring it I knew I would have regretted it and wished I had.

last day in nyc

2006-06-06T00:59:00.000-07:00

I was in New York for a visit. I was leaving later that day, but I didn't want to. I wasn't meant to spend so much time in the city anyway. I was supposed to be somewhere else, with other people, but I was hanging out with Jeff. In my dream I knew him much better and had a much longer history with him than I do in my conscious world. He had taken on the form of (and represented) a collection of people from home. We were in the back seat of a taxi. I didn't want the taxi ride to end. The driver pulled into a gas station and Jeff pulled out a coupon from his wallet that looked like a dollar bill. On the back it was said something about how the offer is good for black people, since they are full human beings "as advertised." It was like a funny bad English t-shirt. I joked around saying that I think it has been some time since black people had to market themselves as a full 5/5ths. The taxi driver came back and I was just going to pay him and get out at that point. He had stopped the meter even though we were still some ways away from Jeff's place in the LES. The driver insisted on taking us the rest of the way free of charge. I was pleased because I got to spend just a bit more time there with Jeff.

I woke up at this point because my phone was ringing, and strangely enough, it was Jeff.

the river

2006-06-03T05:32:00.000-07:00

I was going to walk to town. I had to get there for some reason. I was afraid I’d be late. I remember that there was a train station. I was walking near the river when I thought, maybe it would be faster to go by water. I walked into the water. It was almost knee deep. Down stream were some Korean women with huge visors on. They had rolled up their pants and they were walking around in the water. I wasn’t very concerned with getting my clothes all wet. First of all, I didn’t have time to be worried. Secondly, I was quite pleased with the temperature of the water and it didn’t seem to penetrate my clothing and make me feel cold. I submerged my entire body in the water letting myself float. The current whisked me away down the river towards town. I looked to see cars and people on scooters on road alongside the river. I was going faster than them. I was so content. I was going to make it on time and everything was so beautiful. I thought about how easy it was to enjoy the present moment then. When everything was so beautiful and simple it was so easy to accept the present moment and really exist just then.

I woke up to a gorgeous day in my hotel room. The sky was clear, not the way it’s hazy even in the morning in Seoul. The blue sky and mountains, covered in lush green trees, were the backdrop for the centerpiece of my view--the river. I took a long walk, singing along to the music on my mp3. Later, I went into town, ate a nice lunch with friends and decided to stay another night in the country.

bathtub

2006-05-26T01:22:00.000-07:00

Chocolate, melted and warm all over my naked skin. I'm submerged. I float.

I'm watching the clouds roll by as a breeze - clean, crisp, and new - picks up wishes that dance above my nose and I feel loved again.

I then remember I'm daydreaming in the bathtub.

The bubbles, to my surprise, grow wide. Little bubbles live inside them. Inside the little bubbles there are little dragonflies whirling around fantastical ideas waiting to burst out.

They want to feed on the genius of the world and the beauty of a sunrise on a brand new day.

The light of that new day reaches me, kissing my eyelids softly.

I mush my dreams gracefully into reality.

My favorite day has begun.

my teeth

2006-05-19T05:48:00.000-07:00

My two front teeth fell out. I thought they had fallen out completely, but when I looked in a mirror and realized they were sorta still there. They didn't completely fall out, but the back segment flaked off, the way you can split mica into sheets. I held the flakes in my hand and thought to myself, well I'm really going to have to go to the dentist now.

Day Events
I don't want to go to the dentist in Korea. Looking at the dental work people get here, I'm not looking forward to my next visit.

please stop thinking

2006-05-06T10:06:00.000-07:00

undressed and exposed
not completely comfortable, but almost
behind closed lips I moan and mumble,
"Shut the front door. Go to the park."
I said, "Go to the park,"
over and over again.
these words lost their original meaning
now, redefined, they are the hottest mistakes my tongue has ever made.
I lick them, nibble on them, eat them,
until they mean ecstasy

a night out

2006-04-30T07:06:00.000-07:00

There was a special city wide fireworks/laser light constellation show in the city where I lived. There were static images laid over the stars in the sky outlining the constellations and making up new ones. I was going to a special theater to see it all really well. It was on the top floor of a building. On the way in we bumped into some people we knew. One guy was laying on the steps next to the escalator. He was collecting himself, so we left him there.

There were two parts of this theater. We went to the back theater and looked for seats. The lights were still up and people were getting ready for the show. The theater was already pretty full. No one had saved me a seat. There was one seat next to my ex and his roommate. Though the view was better from there, I didn't want to sit near them. Moreover I wanted to refuse the seat he had offered me--as to say, "No I don't want/need/desire to be close to you anymore." I walked down the aisle and sat next to Alana Finkle. I went to grade school with her and haven't seen her since. She was arranging a blanket and a pillow in her oversized seat like it was a bed. I had a burgundy comforter from my childhood with me. I fixed the blanket in the chair so it would be more comfortable, then I sat down.

Everyone was in their seat waiting for the show to begin. People were chatting and eating snacks. Mike, the cute film guy I dated for a bit a couple years ago, walked in wearing a basketball jersey. We started to talk and everyone around us became a bit silent so they could hear what we were saying. He was telling me how college turned out to be much different than he expected. I was kind of uninterested in the conversation, but I enjoyed how I had captured everyone's attention.

Then I had to go to the bathroom to pour milk out of my sneaker. I had a sneaker full of milk. I wanted to drink the milk. I imagined how it would be refreshing--a bit sweet, thick and cool. The problem was that the sneaker had a bit of a foot smell and I knew people around me would find it strange that I was drinking the milk out of a stinky sneaker. I really wanted to drink the milk, but decided I would have to dispose of it. I went to the bathroom to pour it out.

When I got to the bathroom I took off all of my clothes. My body was all wet, like I had just finished taking a shower, so I took long pieces of brown paper towel to dry myself off. Just then, my old boss walked in. There I was completely nude, trying to cover my body with paper towels, and freaking out. I apologized and tried to have some kind of normal conversation like it was nothing. Meanwhile, she hardly noticed. She was too busy interrogating me. She wondered if I was in some kind of trouble because no one there was calling me by my real name. I explained that my students called me Teacher, some of my friends and people I knew through my artwork called me Koco, and that some of my Korean friends called me by my English name, Sally, though I don't feel that the name suits me.

earth woman

2006-04-29T09:55:00.000-07:00

I was the surface of the earth. Dense green forests covered the flesh on my arms. My nipples were erupting volcanoes. Lava erupted from them mechanically, like a neon sign illuminating a series of lights. There was a large lake that sat from just above my belly button to mid thigh. I thought about the water cycle. Condensation, evaporation, precipitation. This is why we have clouds.

I woke up hot and sweating.

art

2006-04-21T21:07:00.000-07:00

I was looking at some online work. The artist had just kinda blew up as a new media artist. I got some link from some place noting how this artist was recently getting a lot of recognition. He had made a couple short movies. They were simple animated outline drawings. Accompanying the work was a written description of the work and his influences/inspiration for the pieces. One mentioned was Ghostcatching. This was probably the most memorable and inspiring show I've ever gone to. Without a doubt it's a favorite. I was impressed and pleased.

The first work was of a couple having sex while floating. It was me. It wasn't graphic or detailed, I mean it was only outline drawings, but I knew that it was me. I felt a bit flattered and a bit embarrassed. The second was a series of impossible positions and mergings of two people. It looked like a woman flopped out of his spine and was giving him a blowjob, but then morphed and blended into his butt as he somersaulted forward. It had really graceful movements and was much better than the first movie mostly because it was so strange. I liked it more that the first, despite the fact that it was much shorter--and that I had a feeling that it wasn't me. I realized how much had changed, and how much my feelings had stayed the same.

It was some point far in the future. Things were different. I thought about how we used to be really close. Checking his new work was like looking at an old friend's profile after not talking for a while. It was like getting the update without actually contacting the person. There was some heavy nostalgia, a thick longing, and joy... for him.

one image

2006-04-10T21:42:00.000-07:00

olive oil and spreadable chocolate from a tube (like toothpaste), together.

smell like cheese

2006-04-09T18:05:00.000-07:00

I was with a girl I used to dance with. We were good friends there, but only there. Outside of dance class we couldn't really relate to each other. In this dream we were in a small room with white walls, florescent lights, and only one small window. We were in the basement. It was somewhat dingy and strange (actually a bit like the lobby of the building where I had dance classes in high school). She kept talking about how lesbians smell like cheese. I wanted to argue with her, but... I woke up thinking there was no point and that she would never understand.

2 songs

2006-04-08T10:05:00.000-07:00

There were two versions of the same song released at the same time. They were by two completely different artists. I distinctly remember that one was Ghostface Killah. The other I can't remember but it was someone like Tori Amos, or Ani Difranco, or some ultra-female-singer/songwriter with a bit of a tortured edge. I was trying to come up with a fair method of comparing the two in order to decide which one was better. I was making lists of criteria and forgetting what I had just listed and then had to start over again.

I got some music news in an email a couple days ago that perplexed me. I'm in the middle of grading all these papers and creating a fair rubric for the upcoming midterm exam. My mind needs some silence.

dive in

2006-04-07T08:08:00.000-07:00

I'm at a bar with a woman that I used to date. She's blonde. I never treated her right when we were together. She always loved me more than I loved her, and I was always busy doing something else. In addition, when she would call me on my bad behavior or the lack of attention, I'd somehow twist it back on her. I was manipulative in the relationship, but really I was a mess without her. Somehow we're back together. I'm happy about this, but I'm kinda upset at myself, because I know I'm no different than I was before. It's just going to end up the same way as last time and I'm just going to feel shitty about it.

She wants me to dive into a small square shaped pond filled with murky water. It's the entrance to another bar. The pond is no wider than one square foot and probably no deeper than 6 feet. There's some kind of magic with this entrance, but it's all very normal and logical in the reality of my dream. When you dive into the water you get sucked into another place, and exit completely dry. This place is special, only for certain people who dare to question a part of themselves, or truth, or something like that. There is danger in going to this place--a dark danger that I'm aware of and very much afraid of. I want to dive in, for her, to follow her. She does it all the time. She is so brave and open, and she just doesn't care about things like fear.

I get up on the bar and do a hand stand over the pond, preparing myself to dive in head first. Everyone around me is egging me on and being supportive, while at the same time wondering if I'll have the guts to go in. But, I can't do it. I get really upset that I can't go after her.

I sit at the bar with some guy who's searching for sedated cats. I know that there are some sedated cats in the closet. They don't want to be found by the man. I can see them with my mind. I open the closet and see them, not really, but like I'm visualizing the reality. I don't tell him about the cats.

Later, my girlfriend comes back from the other dimension and I try not to make eye contact with her. I actually kind of duck behind some people so she won't see me. First of all because I've failed her and secondly because Ian Love just walked into the bar.

family vacay

2006-04-06T02:15:00.000-07:00

I was in the backroom at our old house, 703. I was fighting with Janine. I put a handful of small razors down her shirt. She tried to stick pins in me. I didn't want to play anymore at that point, so we stopped fighting and continued arranging colored tiles for some kind of art project.

Then I was on a family vacation. We went to some tropical island with a very small community of people living there. There were very few houses, but they were all big and beautiful. There were a lot of nature walk paths between the houses and roads.

Janine was dating some very handsome guy with long dreads. They looked good together. He was wearing a knit hat in the summer, in the water. Janine was on his shoulders in the water taking pictures with his friends. Then he was on her shoulders. My dad was cool about having him and his friends around. We were discussing how he seems nice and they seem to get along well, but he's not fantastic, not good enough.

We drove up and over a hill to get to the beach. At the beach there was some kind of film shoot. A friend of mine who went on vacation with us. She went up to the people working on the photo shoot who were passing out knee pads and grabbed a pair. She was acting like she was supposed to have them and I was her assistant, but really she was stealing for no reason other than to be mischievous. We quickly ran off and down a grassy hill. She trained for marathons, so she was a good runner. I'm not sure how I kept up with her, but I did. We ran back to the house where we were all staying. When we arrived at the house I turned to her and said something like "You go on vacation and turn into a thief!" I was shocked and exhilarated by this display of bad behavior.

Later a crazy couple drove up to the house and were trying to come in. At first I thought they had come about the stolen knee pads, but it turned out that they were just crazy, and lonely or something. The woman tried to barge into the house saying that she had to search the place. I stopped her by telling her that this was private property and she needed to present a warrant. duh. Then the guy wanted directions to the beach, so my father and I together gave directions. I retraced the way we took to get to the beach earlier that day, visualizing the hill, the street where we turned. Then we were at the beach again, with the crazy couple. The woman was laying next to me, somewhat intertwined in my body, outlining parts of my arms and legs with her finger. We were talking about something while my father continued to give directions.

dance night

2006-04-05T18:06:00.000-07:00

There was a big theater . I was back stage preparing and trying to talk myself into a calm state of mind. I was in a pale peach chiffon dress. In the large practice studio I tried to run through the piece. I was going to be in Fragile, a piece I used to perform with Traci Hall & Co., but I couldn't remember the choreography. I sat in the opening pose, repeating the first few notes of the song in my head over and over, but nothing came to me. It was going to be a disaster.

This is a recurring theme in some of my anxiety dreams. I'm about to go on, I have the costume on and everything, and then I realize that I'm completely unprepared.

little pieces

2006-04-04T06:13:00.000-07:00

gay guys in the subway smoking cigarettes
playing a game

I kept peeking
it seemed unsafe
it was desolate
why would you go over there
I want to see what they are doing
What are they doing? What kind of game is that? Are they on drugs?

lifetime of man

creeping through people to get to the exit of the subway
so crowded and everyone is walking slow
get out of my way
up and down steps
walls covered in aging wood painted over white
white halls and stairways
completely whitewashed

I have no idea what's up with me and the dreams about gay men lately. I do miss queer culture. I've never been around so many straight people in my entire life, but regular dreams of gay men... I'm not quite sure why. Dave Pugh told me once that there's a geeky teenage boy that lives inside me. I think there is some truth to that and I often wonder what it feels like to be a man. I like the idea of performing gender and sexuality. When I want to be "woman" I put on my woman costume and my woman make-up and put on the show of "pretty," "cute" or whatever it is that day. And to a certain extent it's the expression of the little gay man inside me through that too. It sounds funny, but I feel like the femininity and womanly beauty I display in these moments is more informed by drag queens than it is by mainstream female archetypes. There's something about the drag queen attitude, the style, the illusion they create, etc. that feels and looks to me more like being a woman. At least, maybe, it's the kind of woman I enjoy--fierce, fabulous, outgoing, bold, confident, uninhibited, bitchy, but still sensitive, mysterious, humorous, and the center of attention. Maybe it's the fact that it is a completely fabricated version of a woman, and created from a male point of view... (just like models... but better? because it's actually a man?) and then I feel like I'm all fucked up in my head. Could I believe that being a woman is only truly defined by male ideals of beauty? Don't I have my own secure sense of what it is to be a beautiful woman? The ideal female beauty (to me) is created best by men? The only thing better than being a woman would be being a gay man being a woman? oy. I think I'm tired.

grandma tanya

2006-04-03T07:52:00.000-07:00

I was at my grandmother's old apartment with my mother. It was her old place near the art museum. She hasn't lived there since I was little, but I dream of it often. We were in my grandmother's apartment and my great grandmother had an apartment not so far away, but not in the same building. My mother told me that they moved Grandma Tanya to a new place so she could be closer to Grandma Vera. She told me it was the old smoking room down the hall. They had moved her in earlier, and hadn't told me because they thought it would upset me. I hadn't ever seen "the smoking room" before so I didn't know what to expect. We went down the hall Grandma Vera's to a cabinet door. She unlocked it to reveal a small room that looked like no more than an enlarged closet. It had nothing more than a bed and a tall wardrobe inside. It was dark and only had a small window. The blankets on the bed were messy and held the shape of a person who had recently been laying there.

I thought, and said out loud to my surprise, "She's coming here to die. She's going to die in here." I buried my head in my mother's chest and began to cry. I made short wailing sounds. She just held me. I was concerned that I'd have to leave Korea early, that it was too soon and I wasn't ready.

Just then, while I was still covered in tears, Grandma Vera and Grandma Tanya came around the corner. I didn't want Grandma Tanya to see me like this. I wanted to be positive like my mother who was saying that it will be great for her to be closer to Grandma Vera. I wanted to be excited that she had moved to a new place, even come up with something good to say, like that it was sort of like a secret sleeping nook... but when I looked up at her, all I could think about was her dying in there. And wanting to. And accepting that this was her last place.

When I woke up I was so sad thinking about how my great-grandmother, Grandma Tanya, was going to die one day. When reality finally took over, I remembered that she died over a decade ago and I was so upset with myself that my dream wasn't more lucid, that I didn't allow myself the chance to say things I never had the chance to, that I didn't ask her something--instead of standing there in tears.

I try to piece together the images and emotions to make sense of this:

The smoking room was from the signs at the palace I went to on Sunday. They had specific places on the grounds for smoking that were pointed out on the maps with red X at each location. The only English on the sign said something like SMOKING ROOM.
The size of the closet and the idea of death in a small space comes from the anxiety I feel in my new apartment. I've been aching for spring so I don't end up spending as much time inside my sleeping closet.
I often have dreams in my grandmother's old apartment near the art museum in Philly. I have no idea why. It always reminded me a bit of a fancy hotel and it felt a bit special. I don't ever remember my father at my grandmother's old apartment so it was time I spent with my mom's family. These times with four generations of Brook women were filled with food, stuffed with laughter, dominated by complaints, sprinkled with Yiddish, and all involved some kind of "to-do."
My grandmother sent me a letter this past week. At the bottom she wrote that the 18th of March would have been Calvin's (my grandfather) 95th birthday. He died exactly a year, to the day, before I was born. I was born a whole month later than I was due, maybe I was waiting. I always wondered what he was like. She said I would have liked him. I never had a grandfather. Not on my father's side either. However, I did have a great-grandmother, and that's kinda cool.
Clyde died this past week. I was devestated to hear the news. I cried and cried and cried. I'm still crying, though I should be happy to have known him. I wish I was there for the memorial--to honor him, to say goodbye. I should have been there. I worry I'm missing out on too many of the important things by living my life abroad.
I worry about having to leave Korea for some unexpected reason, and though I'm ashamed to admit it, I've wished for an excuse to come back. I'm not ready to let go of things here or back home. That's created a bit of conflict inside, some stress, and mostly a feeling of isolation. I'm neither here, nor there.

tennis lesson

2006-04-02T07:51:00.000-07:00

There was a a steep hill with a long street. It was Olney Ave. in Philly, the street I walked down to get to school, but it wasn't. I had to return a comforter from a professor who had left a comment on my blog. The drop off place was on this Olney Ave., somewhere in the middle. I was being very productive and busy. I was at a writing class that Ms. Wolf was teaching. The class was filled with all these super queer people. They were acting ridiculous--hooting and hollering, being loud and outrageous, as well as overly sexual about everything. One guy unbuckled his pants and danced around giggling and rubbing his bare ass on some guy in the corner who was laughing hysterically at the whole thing (like Jules would laugh--a full open mouth joyful laugh that came from... who knows where). He thought no one saw him, but I did. It felt just like the good old times at Hayden Hall. I was having such a time that I missed my tennis lesson.

I don't play tennis. Ms. Wolf was my art teacher.

grad school, again

2006-03-12T07:49:00.000-08:00

Laying in bed, trying to breathe, I float in and out of consciousness. I dream a bit, wake up and write it down, read my book a bit, fall asleep again, wake up, mark a few papers, fall asleep.

Lately my dreams have been vivid and bizarre. I woke up frantically looking for a pen and paper to write down the name Rucker Ruenberger before I forgot. I told myself to google him later. I have no idea what I was dreaming about, just that this was extremely important.

I was in grad school, again, getting another design related degree that I'd never use. I was being a lazy student and I hadn't completed my homework. I was turning red, overheating, and sweating. I didn't know how this could have happened. I got the sense that was such a huge fuck up and I couldn't stop failing. The strangest part was the collection of students in my class. Notables included: Merlin, Greg (a new co-worker who's been there for 12 years now), and some woman, who I actually went to grad school with. I can never remember. All I know is that she was a hardcore lady who used to do tv production, I liked her winter boots, and she was from New Jersey.

The homework assignment was to come up with a product, interactive tool, or event that combined two seemingly unrelated user groups. For example, Merlin had designed some kind of fragrance line that had to do with the alphabet. That made no sense, but in my dream world he had done a very good job with his homework. I was impressed by his rendering skills and his whole presentation. But, I heard next to nothing he said. I was too busy being completely embarrassed and trying to come up with something, quick.

In the back of my mind I kept recreating a Simpson's episode where Homer had said "ahhh... what if we got people who like beer and people who like music together?" Then they pan out to a Duff sponsored music festival that looked like Woodstock 2. If that's an actual episode or not, I have no idea. I kept racking my brain trying to come up with something interesting, but everything was too general. I kept going back to the Simpson's episode hoping I'd haphazardly stumble upon something genius. "Food and music," I kept saying to myself, trying to brainstorm. I came up with two lame ideas that didn't completely make sense--a recipe book that was on a cd with songs that go together with the dishes and an online-based travel game where you went on a food/restaurant/eating scavenger hunt from China, through Russia, to Europe. Somehow it was loosely related to geocaching. No one was impressed. Merlin looked at me blankly and I heard his thoughts that sounded something like, "Stupid bitch. What are doing you doing in grad school?" Of course, these weren't his thoughts, but my own. I woke up still trying to think of something innovative.

I have a lot of anxiety about my new job. I'm the youngest in the department. I'm not sure that I'm qualified, have enough experience, or even know enough about the English language. I feel like I'm bluffing all the time. At my most insecure moments I convince myself that: I barely got through high school, but got into a good college by mistake (or because I put that I was African-American on the application); I only got into grad school because I was in the only interview group that Red Burns hadn't attended; and that I only got this job because I got a master's degree from NYU. Everything else was nothing more than a glossy front. I never feel on par with my peers or co-workers. I'm always admiring them for all the things that come easily to them. I was always intimidated by the super smart design freaks of ITP. That was a time of failure, and I fear experiencing that again.

in a car, outside myself

2006-03-03T07:41:00.001-08:00

I was driving around somewhere in the mid-west in a blue mini-tuk-tuk. I picked it up at a convenience store and was driving it around for some time looking for my parents and "town." I followed signs that looked like the ones all over Seoul pointing to different subway stations. It's late, sometime in the early morning hours of a new day. I kept zoning out and dozing off while driving, like the way I do sometimes in the back of a cab coming home after a couple drinks.

Finally, I was almost there and then I ran out of gas. At the front of the tuk tuk--that now suddenly resembled a cheap plastic machine half way between a vacuum cleaner and a swiffer--there was a compartment that held an aerosol can filled with fuel, like those single gas burners they have in Korean restaurants. It was empty so I went into a store to see if they had another. They informed me that they didn't have any and that I had somehow gotten away with not paying the equivalent of $5 as a deposit at the pick up spot. No one had mentioned anything to me when I took the tuk-tuk, they just seemed to be there. I figured it didn't matter, I'm a foreigner and I honestly didn't know.

A couple at the store/gas station gave me a ride to "town." Their car became van-like. Then I'm in my parent's mini-van and I'm with my parents. A short time passes but it feels like we have been riding together for a while having many discussions about many things. They park and get out, but I'm staying inside to take a nap. My mother rolls down the front window on the passenger side so I won't die of carbon monoxide. I find it strange that she would even allow me to stay and sleep in the car. I'm not even tired, but I stay.

It's night. Looking at the open window I'm nervous that it's open too much. I imagine that someone could reach in and open the door. I worry that someone is going to steal the car, or me. The van becomes a Winnebago/tour bus. My parents walk away a bit and a tall white dude starts reaching into the car. I tell White Dude that if he reaches anymore that I'm going to cut off his arm. White Dude's friend, another tall white guy is suddenly inside the van. The van is open now like the bus has an open atrium. He's asking me, "With what? A serrated knife?"

At this point I don't feel safe. I go to nod my head, knowing that I can't deceive him. I'm defenseless. I have no weapon at all. I see my father out of the corner of my eye, but I'm locked inside of the car. The window is still open so I calmly say out loud, "Dad, there are three very tall white men inside the van." this is when I realize that there are three big white dudes in the van and that there isn't much my father could do to protect me outside. I start to panic.

There is some kind of anxiety rushing over me and then suddenly something happens. The next thing I know I'm a policewoman outside the van, which is parked at a gas station. The wheels are turning inside my head. I felt the same rush of anxiety as when I was myself, but now I'm trying to figure out what to do to save the young woman (myself) inside. I'm standing next to a couple (my parents) who are standing there petrified. Suddenly I charge through the glass window with the plan to reach in and grab the woman. The glass breaks into shards that soar behind me in slow motion. I have a momentary thought, that I've seen too much anime... and everything fades.

Chocolate Man

2006-03-03T07:36:00.000-08:00

I found myself at Chocolate Man's house, again. I've been there before. He offered me a bar of chocolate that time, but he's since forgotten that incident in the store. I'm sitting on the bed with him and his wife. The bed seemed to be in the store, but then turned into their master bedroom. It felt a little funny, like it was going to get kinky, so I laid it on thick when I mentioned that I was gonna get outta there soon. My mother was going to call me any second anyway.

The bedspread had a silky lush sheen to it. The room was dim and everything had a burgundy or a deep reddish wine tone to it. It was like some kind of lair of pleasure, a den of sorts. Chocolate Man offered me a scrumdiddlyumptious (like in Willy Wonka). I was making a mess eating it. It wasn't at all like I imagined a scrumdiddlyumptious. I thought it would be a bit more gooey, possibly with some nuts on the inside. Instead it was like a dried up Coffeecrisp, which I've only found in Canada (they are what a Kit-Kat wished it could be).

The pieces were crumbling all over the place. All over the bed. I felt bad about this, but I couldn't help it. Chocolate Man got a bit pissed, but the bed had already been soiled with the delicate cocoa powder from the truffles he had been devouring earlier. He swept them off the bed and onto the floor.

We continued to eat luscious treats when suddenly some geometric grey, white, and black, 1/2 hamster, 1/2 rat pet of his emerged with a happy dilophosaur-like caw (you remember that crazy dinosaur in Jurassic Park that killed Denis, the fat programmer dude) from a little green triangular bag on the bed. It looked nothing like a hamster or a rat though. It looked a lot more like a Picasso influenced lemur and flying squirrel hybrid.

I wasn't afraid, but like disgusted by it. He had two toys, little balls that looked like Chinese health balls, but lighter. One was matte grey and the other was a metallic black. The creature carried one over to me and handed it to me. Then it started speaking Japanese. Not that I understood the Japanese, but I could identify that it was Japanese. Apparently, Chocolate Man had picked him up on his travels--sorta like Gizmo from Gremlins. The little "rathamster" pet was very affectionate and funny. I was grossed out and fascinated.

He had a puzzle box it fit into that you cranked a wheel to scramble the triangular pieces. Then the "rathamster" would have to shuffle and squirm through them to get out.

Meanwhile, Chocolate Man was getting ready to watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the new one. He said everyone always thought that he watched it all the time, but he said that it wasn't true and that he needed a batch of pot brownies to truly enjoy it.

Instead of Willy Wonka some really twisted sex tapes of Chocolate Man and his wife came on. They were all Nam June Paik (Global Groove) style. There were flashy disco colors and the face of the wife would morph into the face of Chocolate Man so he was fucking himself while the outline of their bodies turned fuchsia and became them in another position.

I wasn't really trying to watch. I mean besides having to keep a sharp eye on the questionable mutant pet, it seemed inappropriate, I didn't know Chocolate Man like that, and I wasn't interested in getting freak nasty with him and his wife. I mean she was hot, but I wasn't into him.

Then the weird pet came and sprawled out behind me, extending it's paws towards my limbs. The home video was starting to get racey and the "rathamster" suddenly started pricking me with its teeny tiny nails. They felt like little electric shocks on the end of an exacto knife. I screamed out, "OW! HIS NAILS!" Then the thing asked me in Korean, "His nails? What are nails?" It was English, but I understood it as Korean. As I tried to think of how I would explain and show the creature what nails are I drifted...

balls at the bank

2005-06-27T07:46:00.000-07:00

multiple use blanks, to be painted on location

I went to a Korean bank to take out some money. I had to take a tiny piece of yellow construction paper, put it in my mouth, make a perfect ball, then take it and hold it between my thumb and index finger while I waited for the teller. This was the only way to get money out of an account. I remember that it specifically had to be YELLOW CONSTRUCTION PAPER. I had an immense fear that I was going to have the wrong color. Maybe I was supposed to eat pink at the bank.