If the world were made of legos most of us would be asian...
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Still here.
I was in bed...ready for sleep...but nothing happened...it's been about two hours and I can't stand it.
So here I am.
If you had a floor-plan of my house you would know that my computer is located in the kitchen. This means that I would have to trek all the way from my bed...down the hallway...passed the living room (stepping on every damn toy kyden decided to leave sprawled out on the floor...like shiny, plastic mines. One plushy plaything even started giggling as i accidentally mashed my foot into his torso)...and through the dining room.
Yes, I did all of this just so I could tell you I'm lonely...I'm lonely and I can't fall asleep. Not sad, balling, hyperventilating loneliness, just a craving for someone to lay beside me...a teddy human. The feeling reminds me of when i was little and my mom would sit on the toilet seat as i showered. I had just earned the right to shower alone--no bath, no brother, no ducky, and no mommy--but, alas, mommy was there. Everything was going smoothly...I lathered my hair, stuck my head under the water, and, suddenly, everything went black. The second I closed my eyes Chucky, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and Michael Meyers (think Halloween, not Austen Powers) were all waiting outside my shower curtain, calling dibs on my assorted body parts. It was like a horror movie monsters tea party had burst from my imagination and into my parent's master bath...so I did what any traumatized child would do: I shrieked,"mmmMMMOOOOOOoomm!," inhale,"mmmMOOOOOOoomm." In came mommy, faster than you can say "Freddy vs. Jason." She promised to stay with me until i had finished counting to one hundred (how else would I know when to stop rinsing my hair?).
Every ten seconds or so I would quietly ask:
"Still there?"
to which she'd reply softly:
"Still here."
...Ironically, my mom isn't home tonight. Not that i would be crawling into her bed or falling asleep to her stroking my hair as she sits uncomfortably in my plastic Ikea chair but...i crave her "goodnight." But mainly i crave a goodnight from any loved one at this moment...so goodnight friends.
hahaha...life is as funny as it is random, goodnight raghav.
So here I am.
If you had a floor-plan of my house you would know that my computer is located in the kitchen. This means that I would have to trek all the way from my bed...down the hallway...passed the living room (stepping on every damn toy kyden decided to leave sprawled out on the floor...like shiny, plastic mines. One plushy plaything even started giggling as i accidentally mashed my foot into his torso)...and through the dining room.
Yes, I did all of this just so I could tell you I'm lonely...I'm lonely and I can't fall asleep. Not sad, balling, hyperventilating loneliness, just a craving for someone to lay beside me...a teddy human. The feeling reminds me of when i was little and my mom would sit on the toilet seat as i showered. I had just earned the right to shower alone--no bath, no brother, no ducky, and no mommy--but, alas, mommy was there. Everything was going smoothly...I lathered my hair, stuck my head under the water, and, suddenly, everything went black. The second I closed my eyes Chucky, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and Michael Meyers (think Halloween, not Austen Powers) were all waiting outside my shower curtain, calling dibs on my assorted body parts. It was like a horror movie monsters tea party had burst from my imagination and into my parent's master bath...so I did what any traumatized child would do: I shrieked,"mmmMMMOOOOOOoomm!," inhale,"mmmMOOOOOOoomm." In came mommy, faster than you can say "Freddy vs. Jason." She promised to stay with me until i had finished counting to one hundred (how else would I know when to stop rinsing my hair?).
Every ten seconds or so I would quietly ask:
"Still there?"
to which she'd reply softly:
"Still here."
...Ironically, my mom isn't home tonight. Not that i would be crawling into her bed or falling asleep to her stroking my hair as she sits uncomfortably in my plastic Ikea chair but...i crave her "goodnight." But mainly i crave a goodnight from any loved one at this moment...so goodnight friends.
hahaha...life is as funny as it is random, goodnight raghav.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Wisdom Teeth
I graduated.
This was supposed to be the most important day of my life...so why was i in a pale yellow dentist chair clutching a clear plastic tube with the sole purpose of sucking pineapple flavored gunk from my mouth.
The trip to the dentist didn't seem special. It was like any other visit...the oral technician sands my teeth....next, she attempts to floss my gums...the bleeding stops...then the shrapnel-like instrument to check for cavities...more scraping...my choice of fluoride flavoring, its subsequent removal...and Dr. Okawachi strolls by to check my progress first hand. Like clock work...
"Hey mr. vince."
From gums to wisdom teeth, I was mr. vince. Call my life-long dentist uncreative, I loved the nickname because, as a child, it inspired maturity. It said i was too old for "Vincent" (just like Dave was too old for "David"), plus I could be married. And as my tooth count reached the thirties, the nickname's connotation became childish. Not in a demeaning way, but in a more youthful sense.
We continue with our usual small talk. Where are you going next year? What's Peter up to? When's Natalie's baby gonna visit me?...I loved hearing Dr. Okawachi talk. He was medium sized Japanese man with bright, smiling eyes. They really did grin, as if he brushed them with Crest. His voice was particularly inviting too, but with a patronizing inflection. An extensive career with children had blessed him with a soothing tone, like anaesthesia. But to anyone past the age of fifteen he came across sounding like a muppet or LeVar Burton.
The lightness of our banter became progressively heavier...and then it stopped altogether.
"Well mr. vince, it looks likes this will be your last visit. You're graduating."
......Graduating? But i was only seventeen. My sister had been twenty one before she had been barred from Dr. Okawachi's dental office. I imagined her being escorted from the premises by a squad of muscular oral technicians in uniforms with the words "braces brigade" or "plaque patrol" stitched into their breast pockets.
At least for my high school graduation i had prepared by sleeping in the backroom during cluster. Preparing for a life of waking up to my ipod alone...but this...this i hadn't prepared for at all...i was blind-sided.
I finally responded with a mumbled "wow," with a "look how time flies" smile. We walked over to the appointment desk. Dr. Okawachi pronounced i was cavity-free and dropped the graduation bombshell. This sent a few ripples through my mom, she had also not expected this finality. He handed her a card with a new address and a small map etched on its front, explaining that the office was being moved...for the second time in the span of two minutes i was attempting to hide my dismay. "We need a bigger space," was his response...apparently i had asked him, "Why move?"
I scanned everything in that crowded office with the intent of sucking it into my brain. The posters Cavity-Free Kids took their picture in front of to commemorate their achievement were stored somewhere in my head. (I always chose the Bugs Bunny poster...and by always i mean the one time both my mom and i left the office smiling. The superman poster said I'm over-compensating for something, while astronaut mickey was for the toddler crowd.) The deep purple contours of the treasure chest every patient rifled through after a visit also shoved their way into my memory like a stubborn snaggletooth. (It was filled with all sorts of trinkets...my personal favorite was the gargantuan sticky hands that mutated into globs of gooey dirt after a day's use, which were also excellent for smacking siblings within a three foot radius.)
God, I wasn't ready to leave. A few minutes went by after i realized while i was gawking at my dental childhood my mom was asking when to bring Kyden, my nephew, for his first visit. Dr. Okawachi explained he was eager to see his first patient's first born. Kyden will be the beginning. I am the ending...it's surreal to be the ending. This thought made me smile...
This was supposed to be the most important day of my life...so why was i in a pale yellow dentist chair clutching a clear plastic tube with the sole purpose of sucking pineapple flavored gunk from my mouth.
The trip to the dentist didn't seem special. It was like any other visit...the oral technician sands my teeth....next, she attempts to floss my gums...the bleeding stops...then the shrapnel-like instrument to check for cavities...more scraping...my choice of fluoride flavoring, its subsequent removal...and Dr. Okawachi strolls by to check my progress first hand. Like clock work...
"Hey mr. vince."
From gums to wisdom teeth, I was mr. vince. Call my life-long dentist uncreative, I loved the nickname because, as a child, it inspired maturity. It said i was too old for "Vincent" (just like Dave was too old for "David"), plus I could be married. And as my tooth count reached the thirties, the nickname's connotation became childish. Not in a demeaning way, but in a more youthful sense.
We continue with our usual small talk. Where are you going next year? What's Peter up to? When's Natalie's baby gonna visit me?...I loved hearing Dr. Okawachi talk. He was medium sized Japanese man with bright, smiling eyes. They really did grin, as if he brushed them with Crest. His voice was particularly inviting too, but with a patronizing inflection. An extensive career with children had blessed him with a soothing tone, like anaesthesia. But to anyone past the age of fifteen he came across sounding like a muppet or LeVar Burton.
The lightness of our banter became progressively heavier...and then it stopped altogether.
"Well mr. vince, it looks likes this will be your last visit. You're graduating."
......Graduating? But i was only seventeen. My sister had been twenty one before she had been barred from Dr. Okawachi's dental office. I imagined her being escorted from the premises by a squad of muscular oral technicians in uniforms with the words "braces brigade" or "plaque patrol" stitched into their breast pockets.
At least for my high school graduation i had prepared by sleeping in the backroom during cluster. Preparing for a life of waking up to my ipod alone...but this...this i hadn't prepared for at all...i was blind-sided.
I finally responded with a mumbled "wow," with a "look how time flies" smile. We walked over to the appointment desk. Dr. Okawachi pronounced i was cavity-free and dropped the graduation bombshell. This sent a few ripples through my mom, she had also not expected this finality. He handed her a card with a new address and a small map etched on its front, explaining that the office was being moved...for the second time in the span of two minutes i was attempting to hide my dismay. "We need a bigger space," was his response...apparently i had asked him, "Why move?"
I scanned everything in that crowded office with the intent of sucking it into my brain. The posters Cavity-Free Kids took their picture in front of to commemorate their achievement were stored somewhere in my head. (I always chose the Bugs Bunny poster...and by always i mean the one time both my mom and i left the office smiling. The superman poster said I'm over-compensating for something, while astronaut mickey was for the toddler crowd.) The deep purple contours of the treasure chest every patient rifled through after a visit also shoved their way into my memory like a stubborn snaggletooth. (It was filled with all sorts of trinkets...my personal favorite was the gargantuan sticky hands that mutated into globs of gooey dirt after a day's use, which were also excellent for smacking siblings within a three foot radius.)
God, I wasn't ready to leave. A few minutes went by after i realized while i was gawking at my dental childhood my mom was asking when to bring Kyden, my nephew, for his first visit. Dr. Okawachi explained he was eager to see his first patient's first born. Kyden will be the beginning. I am the ending...it's surreal to be the ending. This thought made me smile...
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Happy Ending
2 o'clock in the morning, something's on my mind
Can't get no rest; keep walkin' around
If I pretend that nothin' ever went wrong, I can get to my sleep
I can think that we just carried on
It was 3:30.
After the cast party I could not sleep...downloading music, listening to music, loving music at 3:30. Peter came home. He strolled over to the laptop and threw me a knowing glance and a half smile, as if saying, "I know what you're doing hunched over a computer at 3:30." I arched my eyebrows in mock surprise (this face said, "Nope, its just music"). After a small pause...
"I saw the show."
"...you came?"
Ok...real surprise this time. This is the first choir show my brother has attended. He hadn't shown an interest before, which was fine with me. I did remember him saying something on the drive to Cook about taking off work. I told him the show wouldn't be very good, my passive way of saying, "You won't appreciate it."
"Yeah...it was pretty bad, vince. Like the solos, and yeah. Pretty bad."
He said it with a wise nod, as if he was telling me an inside joke. I had been monitoring him with my peripheral, but this time I looked at his face. His eyes were like two cloudy marbles, glazed with stoner content.
"But vincent, that dance...it was crazy. I can barely......yeah, it was crazy."
When I didn't respond he proceeded to raid the kitchen. A ham sandwich, bag of chips, and a double-pack of beef jerky later he walked past me...down the hallway...his door shut faintly.
...some part of me thought he was getting back at me for reading harry potter during his football games. But he wasn't pretending.
Can't get no rest; keep walkin' around
If I pretend that nothin' ever went wrong, I can get to my sleep
I can think that we just carried on
It was 3:30.
After the cast party I could not sleep...downloading music, listening to music, loving music at 3:30. Peter came home. He strolled over to the laptop and threw me a knowing glance and a half smile, as if saying, "I know what you're doing hunched over a computer at 3:30." I arched my eyebrows in mock surprise (this face said, "Nope, its just music"). After a small pause...
"I saw the show."
"...you came?"
Ok...real surprise this time. This is the first choir show my brother has attended. He hadn't shown an interest before, which was fine with me. I did remember him saying something on the drive to Cook about taking off work. I told him the show wouldn't be very good, my passive way of saying, "You won't appreciate it."
"Yeah...it was pretty bad, vince. Like the solos, and yeah. Pretty bad."
He said it with a wise nod, as if he was telling me an inside joke. I had been monitoring him with my peripheral, but this time I looked at his face. His eyes were like two cloudy marbles, glazed with stoner content.
"But vincent, that dance...it was crazy. I can barely......yeah, it was crazy."
When I didn't respond he proceeded to raid the kitchen. A ham sandwich, bag of chips, and a double-pack of beef jerky later he walked past me...down the hallway...his door shut faintly.
...some part of me thought he was getting back at me for reading harry potter during his football games. But he wasn't pretending.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Sole Singer
when you're sad, do not sing "lucky"(Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait's duet, not Britney's ballad, which is probably slightly more pathetic). Don't attempt the guy's part and stay clear of the girl's too. In fact, duets should be illegal when you feel like crap. You should need a signed doctors note, and even then, only three songs, tops. I'd even go as far as outlawing singing altogether......i take that back.
I wish I could sing alone...i guess my point is: I'm an idiot, no debate, the end.
I wish I could sing alone...i guess my point is: I'm an idiot, no debate, the end.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
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