I am the most Asian Caucasian I know

1) I read graphic novels
2) I wear tight jeans, long dress shirts, and flats
3) My makeup is "Olive 2", which is the only powder picturing an Asian woman
4) I can pick up ice cubes out of a glass of water with chopsticks
5) My Asian/American friends talk about "our people"
6) I have a fascination with little unidentifiable figurines
7) I date older white dudes

...So now that my secret is out, I am off to FM for some tea.

So Luca, We're all still Wondering what You're Going to do with your Life

Today, I decided to start writing again. This is it. I figured that since, for the past four months, I've been telling everyone that I am going to write a book, I should at least revisit my blog and figure out if I can write or not. We'll see.

I've been in the states since April. I've been working since then too, which is pretty remarkable considering the economic climate. The money I've earned will cover my ass (hopefully) for the next few months and provide sustenance (hopefully) during my "book writing". I think this whole "I'm going to write a book" thing came about as a way to shut people up. "Well Luca, what are you going to do in Bermuda if you're not working? Just live off of Big?"

"Actually, I am going to write a book."

Sometimes I say that I am going to write a graphic novel, which is actually pretty hilarious, because I can't really draw. It's something I'd love to do. I'd love to have my name on something like a graphic novel. It's just so...hip.

I'd love to have my name on anything really. As I rapidly approach 25, I just, more and more, crave fame and notoriety. I think my ultimate dream is to be on a billboard. Can you imagine? Picture walking down a bustling city street with people just brushing past you and looking up to see your face (300 times its original size) gleaming down on the world. It's just beautiful really.

But I guess before that can happen, I need to get this book up and going. Or maybe I'll stop being completely self absorbed, realize that my name and face do not need to grace the world with their presence, and tell all of the schmucks, "Yeah, actually, I am just going to live off of Big in Bermuda."

The Problem: I'm American

Two days ago, I, more eloquently than ever, pinpointed my issue with Z. Are you ready?

"I'm American."

It was brilliant—a heated conversation regarding my contempt for the dreaded ex and instead of coming off as the jealous bitch, I was simply a product of my confused nation. A sheep, if you must.

My spin: As the US has done with Saddam Hussein and Bin Laden, I have taken all that is bad in my life and assigned it to a name, a face, an ex-girlfriend. And this is Z.

So when she calls to "do coffee" with Big, you can clearly understand my reaction (and if not understand it, at least understand where it's coming from).

"Blow her up!!"

Yes folks, this is how I justify my insanity and in doing it, my wit, charm, and brilliance lead to excellent, passionate sex with the man that I love.

Not bad, American. Not bad.

Today, I will not be bitching about boys OR going off on jealousy-fed tangents...

The past year has been a whirlwind. I started this blog exactly 11 months ago and I hardly recognize myself now.

Ok, that's such a load of shit. FUUUCK.

I'm exactly the same. I shop with the same grocery list, listen to the same playlists, and complain regularly about the same exact things. I'm perfectly fine with it. If I wasn't, I would have changed. I have the same bad hang-ups and get the same bad haircuts. I still blog completely inconsistently and I really have no plans to change.

The boys are all the same; as are the girls.

PIJ is dead, though. And my gram, too. And I've been to significantly more places. Change has occurred, but it's been subtle. Morphs. Like the bit about the playlists—lie. They've slowly added new songs or have been phased out. See, I change. In fact, 495 songs have been added to my iTunes collection since October '07. Impressive, right?

I live in a new country. I surf. I have a new desire to write a book. Judging by the amount of traffic on my blog, it'll surely flop, but in the past year, I've gotten better at accepting failure. I guess that's what happens when you graduate from university, sit on your ass doing nothing for a year, and fully accept what's become of you.

I still freak out when mercury is retrograde and during this time, I still contemplate murdering a significant number of females in Big's social network. I'm a Virgo.

I play significantly more scrabble and I drink significantly more wine. I read more. I still get lost in my head and often cannot escape; I sink into sad, dark places. I create scenarios that make me afraid to be alone. I'm more dependent.

And this all sounds like some sort of hokey chick flick conclusion, but it's really me just being bored on a Wednesday evening. This isn't an end or a new beginning. Just good ol' rambling. Hope you enjoyed...

some thoughts

I have a consuming fear that I am Jared’s Annette.
And that Jared is Tim. And that in a few years—
My world will be turned upside down.
And changed forever. And I’ll look back to this time—
And wish that I had played it all very differently.

I want to watch Lost in Translation again. I hated it the first time. Really truly hated it. Everyone around me had built it up so much that I was convinced it would be my absolute favorite movie. But I was bored. And I don’t really like Bill Murray. I guess I liked him in What About Bob?—or maybe I just really liked What About Bob? I’m not really sure. And I don’t like Scarlett Johannsen. And I hated her character in Lost in Translation—I wanted to smack her, but I’m beginning to relate to her—and I want to smack myself. And this is why I want to watch it again. Plus, I like the soundtrack.

I watched Goodbye Lenin last night. Fell asleep halfway through, but it was about 90th time I’ve seen it, so I think it’s fine. I love Goodbye Lenin—everything about it. The characters, the storyline, the way it’s shot, the humor—everything. And I love that it’s in German. I always feel more intelligent after foreign films.

**note to reader: if you enjoy chick flicks, but don’t like to admit it, watch foreign chick flicks, because then you can say, “I watched a really great foreign film last night” instead of, “I watched a really great chick flick last night”.

**recommendation to reader: Priceless with Audrey Tautou. Cute, fun, and French. Really can’t go wrong.

Dear Mr. Fact Omitter,

Please stop omitting facts—it really makes me not want to be anywhere near you. And I don’t think I really trust you. And I don’t think I really want to live with you. And though, your omissions make great fodder for my blog, they really make me feel like shit about myself.

Mr. Fact Omitter, I’m sick and tired of sneaky fucking scumbags.

Love Always, LUCA

here on out referred to as "my bits"...

"hey baby, nice clavicle. sexy sexy clavicle."

trapped tired overwhelmed indecisive
I’m back in Sydney. I’m back in my beautiful house that overlooks the ocean.
shallow frantic lost confused
An awkward kiss at the airport and a day full of longing and regret.
Singing songs that remind me of things I shouldn’t be reminded of.
Indecision regarding things I’ve already decided.
Wishing I hadn’t decided anything and wanting all decisions to be made for me.
empty sad hopeful alone
Wanting to keep my bags packed. Wishing I had enough money to fly back at my discretion.
warm dismissed forgotten dropped
And maybe that’s a good thing after all.

“YOU ARE an idiot. YOU ARE a fuckin’ moron. YOU ARE soo dumb.”—Luca’s mama

Maybe she has a point here. I mean I definitely do not deserve intelligence points for last Friday…not by a long shot. I realize this.

But how was I supposed to know it was a prison? I don’t know the Acton/Concord area. And the windshield was so dirty that I couldn’t even see the barbed wire. It’s the reason I pulled into the parking lot in the first place. More wiper juice.

And sure, it’s probably the reason why the statey ran my plates, found out I was driving an unregistered and uninsured vehicle, pulled my ass over, and towed the jeep away. And the reason why I hung out at the Acton Mcdonald’s for several hours waiting for a ride back to Coho.

And I do feel bad that it’s costing Sally a buttload of money that she doesn’t have and forcing her to miss work that she really shouldn’t be missing. I’m just an asshole.

Despite the shit details of the situation I did meet a wonderful wonderful dude named Brendan. Brendan, if you are reading this, I think you’re a wonderful wonderful dude. I hope you are having an excellent day.

If I had a pen and paper, I’d be making a vend diagram (ven diagram, ben diagram, bend diagram? Hmm. Should have paid more attention in third grade). Maybe even two. J vs. Big. And then J vs. J.

Or maybe I’ll just make a list of all of J’s negatives. A long long list. And I’ll check it frequently. Just for a reminder.

Reasons why J and I would never ever possibly work:
1) He takes his pants off before his shirt.
2) He’s a vegetarian.
3) He doesn’t wash his clothes enough.
4) He never washes his hands.
5) He’s a slut.
6) He doesn’t clean after he cooks.
7) I don’t trust him.
8) He’ll break my heart.
9) He has STORAGE tattooed across his stomach.
10) I don’t want to live on the ark.
11) I don’t want to clean the ark.
12) He wears dirty, white, high socks.
13) He disappears for significant periods of time.

But I do like him, so maybe I should include…

Reasons why I would even want J and I to work:
1) We’re the same breed of mut: Italian, Polish, etc.
2) We look alike.
3) We’re from the same place.
4) He’s fucking charming.
5) So handsome.
6) Beautiful eyes.
7) We’d have beautiful kids.
8) If we were to hyphenate our last names, it’d be magic.
9) He’s an amazing singer.
10) We know each other.
11) We enjoy each other and make each other happy.
12) He’s the voice inside my head.
13) It’s a change to my current situation without having to start from scratch.

Dear Sally-Wally,

You are one crazy motherfucker. Sorry for getting your car towed. Please don't steal my money. I think you're insane.

meet jared...

Exactly one month after I turned 18, I fell madly in love—pathetic, sappy, skip through fields of tulips bullshit. Basically, it was a boy on a boat—tattoos from head to toe—and I thought he was perfect. And we were like magnets. We couldn’t help ourselves. We even looked alike—one of those couples where people wondered if we were brother and sister or fucking. And this is Jared.

Our first kiss was on the beach and during it, the waves crashed around our ankles. It was like the shit from the movies—for about a month and a half. And then he flew to New Zealand. But he came back and surprised me for Christmas and things were good again. And then he took a job in the Caribbean. Three months later, he flew me down—I had gotten fat, but he didn’t seem to mind.

I’d cry every time he left. For days. I’d puke and I wouldn’t eat—couldn’t eat. And then one day I just stopped crying and moved on. There was some fighting in there somewhere—some cheating too, but reflecting on it all 5 years later, it seems as if he just vanished from my life at the snap of a finger.

After we broke up, we didn’t speak for months—probably about nine. And after that, we spoke about twice a year. And that continued for four years. And I guess that takes us to the present.

We’ve seen each other twice in the past week and a half. The first time in five years. The feelings are still there—and that magnetic pull that has been there forever. We look alike, talk alike. I feel like we come from the same place: divorced parents, bumfuck Connecticut, no money, big dreams, yada yada. I still love him.

He’s asked me to leave Sydney and move to PT with him. I don’t know if I’m considering it. Every wish for two and a half years involved him—us getting back together and such. And now it’s like all of those wishes are coming true and I’m wishing they weren’t. I don’t know what I want. Possibly a break. A break from everyone—head off on my own for a while. I don’t remember what it’s like to be single. I just move from one to the next.

Emotionally intense night. Too much wine and too much touching (for a girl in a magnificent relationship). Sigh.

i would totally date carly smithson.


...and her husband.
...and danny noriega.

I think I'm about to hurl. Why is David Archuleta still on American Idol?

Tonight's 11:11 wish: Dear Carnival Cruise Lines, Please call David. Offer him some sleazy lounge singer act on one of your gas guzzling liners and take him far far away.

in today's inbox...

"so seeing you was pretty fucking amazing. so much shit came rushing back... memories, feelings,.... well, i told you i still love you. i mean it. never stopped. i know you are with someone, and you are happy. i shouldnt say these things to you. but soon youll leave, ill leave and maybe this chance meeting will seem like it never happened. i never stopped wondering... never stopped thinking of you. today made me realize why. anyhow. i hope i can make it to see you tomorrow. its late and i cant stop thinking about you and how i felt today. yours, jared"

Dear Blog,
I’m sorry for sucking ass and never writing. Here’s an update:
My gram was sick, so I left AUS on the 16th of February.
She died on Februay 20th (the lunar eclipse).
My family decided (sans research) that my grampa would go to the VA hospital in Bennington.
They soon realized the joint was a dive, but were stuck, because other options hadn’t been considered.
I stepped in, volunteered a month of my time to watch my grampa in bumfuck VT, while my family looked into other options for care.
So that’s where I am and what I’m doing.

Exciting bits in this stretch of boredom include:
“Free Time Wednesdays”: A recess equivalent where my uncle comes to relieve me of my duties around 2p and sends me out into the world. I only have a few hours, so I don’t go far. I’ve been to Glenn’s Falls, Granville, and Bennington. I really woop it up.

“Vigil Sundays”: Another recess day where my uncle takes my grampa to Manchester for anti-war demonstrating. I have a few hours to do whatever I want. Wild.

I visited my friend Kyle at Bennington College. We hadn’t seen each other in six years, but it felt like six hours. It was awesome. Short-lived, but awesome. I had a burger and an iced tea. He had a burger and a Guinness.

I saw J yesterday. I haven’t fully formulated my thoughts on the matter, but I guess I can wing it…

Though completely indifferent as to whether or not I saw him while he was visiting his brother, it was great seeing him and I had a blast. We ragged on each other a bunch ad fell into five years ago very naturally. Almost too naturally. He asked me to move out to PT with him, help finish up his boat, and then sail around with him until kingdom come. I declined, and immediately REO Speedwagon came on the radio (and yes, he still has the tape of me singing “Take it on the Run” from 2003). So we laughed for a little while. The evening ended with me having to kick him out of the car after a heated goodbye and J telling me that he wasn’t kidding about the whole “Luca and J together forever” thing. Sigh. He’s coming over today. (and just so we’re all clear here, I made it shockingly clear that I am insanely happy in AUS with S.)

i love spending time in vermont in the dead of winter and freezing my ass off...

I’m in Vermont and freezing. When I woke up, my grampa asked me to check the thermometer.

“Negative eight.”
“Negative eight? What does that mean? You mean eight below?”
“Yeah, eight below. Negative eight.”
“Negative eight. Did you make that up? Did you hear that on the weather channel?”
“I dunno. It’s not positive, so it’s negative. Negative eight. Eight below.”

Ten minutes later he shuffles into the kitchen. Normally, I associate shuffling with a fast pace, but in this case of shuffling it’s extremely slow. I use “shuffling”, because of the sound it makes when he walks not because of the movement itself. His feet never really leave the ground—just skid across the carpet, which is too cushy and often trips him. He’s in the kitchen now and fiddling around with stuff that doesn’t need fiddling with. Life would be easier if he stayed in one place. My life anyway.

“For Pete’s sake, can’t you read a thermometer? It’s twenty below.”
“It’s negative eight. This line is for ten.”
“Let me see. Oh, you’re right.”
He shuffles back to the table.

He has all of these rules that I need to follow when I’m here. Ridiculous things that serve no purpose other than to give him a bit of control. I think at this age, he feels helpless and is humiliated by the fact that he constantly needs someone around, so he makes up these rules to have a little power.

1) The colored plastic cups are his. He washes them himself and they do not go in the dishwasher. They stay on the counter.
2) The blue chair and the green chair are his. If you want to sit in the living room, sit on the green couch, the blue couch, or in the white chair.
3) He only eats with a soupspoon. NOT A TEASPOON.
4) The blue towels are his. Do not touch them.

Likes...

1) capers
2) dancing
3) dennis kucinich sailing
4) sailing dennis kucinich
5) old cars (including early 80s)
6) free __________
7) wood stoves
8) decorating
9) writing
10) tennis
11) candle lit dinners
12) spirituality
13) optimism
14) organization
15) collage
16) day dreaming
17) intention

Dislikes...

1) anchovies maggots
2) lies
3) maggots zoe
4) dish water
5) drain hair
6) zoe anchovies
7) people who talk about their drug habits
8) working when other people aren't
9) george bush
10) monsanto
11) inefficiency and waste
12) cramps
13) skipping DVDs
14) debt
15) mosquitos
16) seaweed grabbing at my ankles
17) organized religion

i woke up at 8:22 and realized you hadn't landed yet.
lay awake for a while—excited and nervous.
thinking maybe you'd call, but then figured you wouldn't want to wake me.
decided to write some poetry or my equivalent thereof.
decided to write you a love letter.
i don't really know how i feel about love letters.

Especially mine, but maybe I should start putting myself out there.

i dreamt of hundreds of men last night. i was making them sandwiches.
i don't really know what that means.
i was in my prom date's suburban development. and i was trapped there.
i don't really know what that means either.
i don't think you were in it, but there was this consuming emptiness that i couldn't shake.
maybe you were in it after all.

I don’t like missing you. Please stick around.

the phone rang at 9:32 and i dove for it.
threw myself over the partially made bed.
that may be the only acceptable part of you being away.
The fact that I only have to make half of the bed.
But I’d much rather have you around.
It’s a little too sterile without you. and I think part of me really enjoys stale food.

And your company.

I miss watching you over at your computer in the morning.
Wondering if you’re chatting with other girls.
Older, more experienced—better qualified.
But hoping you’re following stocks instead.
Surrounded by various dirty cereal bowls and coffee mugs.
Hating your green roseway shirt enough to actually like it.

Like you. Enough to make me nervous most of the time.

Nervous like when we first started dating.
When you, just starting to doze off, would start your erratic breathing.
And I was convinced you had some chronic disorder and wouldn’t make it through the night.
or after not seeing you for a month.
Wondering if you’d still be attracted to me, still love me.
And I love you.

I always have.

And i hate putting myself on display.
Writing for other people. To be judged by them.
And I think I hate love letters.
Tucked away waiting to be found and read and reread.
Maybe my handwriting (that you haven’t seen much of) will hide it from you.
And maybe you’ll throw this one away.

Because I don’t want to be just another girl who once wrote you a love letter that you once tucked away in a drawer somewhere. 10:12.

i have a really strong urge to smoke. it's really strange, because i haven't in a while. well, it's been a month, but that's not what i mean. it's been years since i've smoked regularly. five since i quit.

i remember the first day of freshman orientation. the first person i met, standing there in line waiting for all of those damn papers, was katie. i decided that her and i were going to be great friends. we weren't. my mom was with me and i didn't feel dorky about it, because i, without a doubt, had the coolest mom there. i think she was even mistaken for a student. i watched all of the kids go through the line, get their dictionary's worth of forms—student schedules, various medical forms, surveys, the works. and then it was my turn. i had spent the day rolling my eyes at all of it and this stupid line wasn't any different. student schedule—check. med forms—check. and then there was this one yellow form...

"ms. makyl, this form needs to be turned in before the first day of classes. it just says you consent to random drug testing."

FUCK.

my mom just cut me this glance like, "you little shit, you've totally blown this." i just stopped dead and looked at her waiting for her to fix it. pull clean pee out of purse. something. anything. and because i had just been taking forms and rolling my eyes—just going through the motions, i hadn't even heard anything besides "DRUG TESTING". i don't know what i thought—maybe that at the end of the form tables was a pee station—that i was getting booted right then and there.

FUCK.

and i guess that's the day i quit. i hadn't planned on it or really even considered stopping and then "kabaam". fucking yellow form.

it's breaking my heart today. you're breaking my heart today.

and maybe this is the love letter i should have given you years ago,
but never took the time to write it all out. figuring you'd always be around.
strong and stable and committed.
and i took you for granted. and you knew it. and you let me.
and i walked all over you. and you knew it.
i became a joke to you. you rolled your eyes with every new adventure.
and then i dicked you around. used you. and you knew it.
i wanted to change. just couldn't.
i called you on your birthday. to give you something to cling to.
a reason to wait for me. and you did. for so long.
and maybe you still are. and i'm sorry.

i miss the drives. the routine. even the weather that i pretended to hate.
the gifts you'd bring. coffees in the morning, because you knew i wouldn't have time.
or money. and the money you gave. so much. and i inhaled it.
i loved the dinners. looking at you over candles.
shadows on your face. your eyes so sunken. and you loved me so much.
and i was mean. cruel, heartless. would say the meanest things i could muster.
and sometimes you'd cry. and i never apologized, because i was always right.
but i'm apologizing now. and i miss you so much.
maybe this permanent lump in my throat is for you.
a constant reminder of how i've hurt you. used you.
and shit, i miss you. i miss you so much.

why do we keep love letters?
i found some today. i wasn't even snooping. love letters to big.
i keep them too. some of them. but i don't know why.
do we secretly want someone to find them?
make others jealous by showing how much we were loved?
or are they for ourselves to remember how much we were loved?
do we plant them so they'll be found when we're least expecting it?
create some unnecessary drama for a brief second,
tuck them away in a new semi-concealed place, and then just wait for them to be discovered again.
can we not let go? see, i don't think we keep them for ourselves.
do we ever go back and read them?
i think we keep them for others. to prove something. but i don't know what.
maybe to say, "hey, look, i'm a good catch. and others think so too."
or maybe to live in a past, happier time and place.
i don't even know where my old love letters are.
and if i did, would i throw them away?
i'm assuming they're in the attic in connecticut.
tucked into various boxes with pictures and old baseball tees.
maybe i'm saving them for my memoir, for my grandkids, for myself for when i'm too old to remember.
maybe to show moments of happiness in relationships of chaos.
to deceive others. to deceive myself.
anyway, i was just thinking about it. love letters. and why we keep them.

i woke up too early and drove through the city
it was raining and the windows wouldn't defog
i thought about my catch twenty-two life
and went in circles for over an hour

made too many left turns, left turns
and pressed too many buttons on the radio
to the point where the static was still there
just at a lower volume

i had to have crossed oxford street a thousand times
never able to make the necessary turn
so close, but so far
more lost than if i'd never been here before

familiar landmarks, but not knowing how it all pieced together
circle after circle after circle
it's a miracle i'm still alive
not starving to death, or smashed in an alley

driver touch the yellow line
touch the yellow line, touch the yellow line
maybe it's not yellow here and that's why i am so confused
so confused, so confused

but it was dark and it was raining
and then wand-waving magically, i was home
and i slept for hours, many hours
exhausted from my circles in the rain

hola chiquita banana
te gusta este vespa?
me gusto los rancheros
mm mm mmm huevos rancheros

and this is what makes me homesick...

hi rat
hi mama rat
hi girly rat
big fat sally rat
little skinny caitlin rat eyes

a very gray day...

I'm sitting on my milo-colored couch in roughly the same position as I have for the past three days. And though I choose not to, I am physically able to remove myself from this life-sucking nest and this is what sets today apart from the past two. I’m overwhelmed by a consuming boredom that makes me think of Keri. I look out to the ocean and hope for a calming peace, but find only sorrow.

A gray sky, meeting a gray sea, and the lack of a notable horizon as though there is no beginning, no end, and no purpose.

I am not sad, angry, frustrated. Not happy, enthusiastic, or even content. I think I could die right now and, if given the chance to reflect on it, I don’t think I’d be fazed. I don’t care enough to do myself in and I don’t want to exert the energy.

So I just sit here and deepen the indentation in the couch, take in the stillness of the room, listen to the crashing waves, watch the flies buzzing aimlessly, watch the trees sway dully in the breeze, and feel empty.

The gray seems to be consuming everything—the green of the trees, the brown cliff face, this room, and my head. And, I’m pretty sure that soon, it’ll all be one large mass of gray that will simply be eaten by this life-sucking couch.

virgo, you will be sexually frustrated and worked up...

big left for work at 1150. one hour later, i am still not dressed. i have accomplished very little today, but have looked at significant amounts of porn.

today's horoscope: "VIRGO: Experimental Uranus might put you on the hunt for new sexy exploits. So consider checking out a few erotic books or X-rated videos."

sigh. i guess this morning's masturbation sesh was in the stars. time to find some clothes.

a now-suicidal detective named luca

i have too much time on my hands. i get bored. i get to thinking. i'm an irrational human being when i'm idle. i'm a bit of a detective.

today, i have irrationally concluded that big took zoe sailing. i spy a bit. she's in my head and it's pissing me off. i googled her. i know, i'm lame. i'm not denying it. found this on her company site:

"Merry Christmas! We will be operational every non-public holiday day over the Christmas New Year's period.
But don't expect to reach us on the afternoon of Tuesday the 18th of December, as we'll be taking to the high seas (well, Sydney Harbour) for our Christmas Party."

and the next bit is where the detective skills come into play. i have big's work schedule in ical. december 18th looked like this:

LGS scheduled December 18, 2007 from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM
Invoice scheduled December 18, 2007 from 6:00 AM to 7:00 AM
Work (Harbour Sail) scheduled December 18, 2007 from 12:00 PM to 6:00 PM

kill me now. really, just kill me now.

i really should find new ways to occupy my time. i did draw a bit today. pictures of vaginas. they very well may be my specialty.

go fuck yourself.

i thought about jumping again today. walked to the cliff edge and watched the water for what felt like hours. i picked two landing places. one that would kill me in seconds and one that i could possibly survive if i jumped and then decided against the whole suicide bit. i liked the first. the water was so confused and tumultuous that i found it calming. it made my head seem quite minor in the scheme of things.

the waves crashed against this one smooth rock and as the water coming off of the rock met the newly crashing waves, a pit was formed. i imagined being sucked into the hole and found it peaceful.

i thought about sailing and set design, my life, and my weaknesses. thought about my hangover and headache and wondered how i could be so sad after a great night. i decided that i'm manic.

the wind picked up to about 15 knots and the spray of the crashing waves was thrown 30 feet to the northwest and still reaching a vertical height of 40 feet. i decided that if i were to jump, i'd time it so that i'd fall with the spray. a misty and peaceful drop before chaos and sucking for air.

i thought about keri and did some quick math and figured out that it was the january when she was 23 that she killed herself. and even though i'm on the other side of the world, the situation is fairly similar. i thought for a while and drew up connections, but then decided i didn't want to be a follower. i convinced myself that if i make it through january, i'll be free.

i thought about andrew, but i don't know why.

hey, girly, get a job...

Spent the day looking for a job—a "cash-in-hand". I came up with very little. The most intriguing being a full on body painting photo shoot for high resolution prints. If I can’t afford to eat, at least I’ll be able to endlessly gaze at myself nude, painted, and framed. Great.

This whole working visa rigmarole is really starting to be a pain in the ass. I’ve been in Sydney since the passing of the AMC-AUS working visa, but can’t apply, because I am already in Australia. So, basically, I need to leave the country, apply, be approved, and then I can return and work. Easy, right? Nope, because I’ve been traveling the world on a fraudulent passport (ok, I’m exaggerating—there’s a misspelling with my last name). So really what I need to do is call the US Consulate (weekdays between 2p and 4p), schedule an appointment to present my passport dilemma, wait several weeks for my new passport, leave the country, apply for a working visa, wait for my approval, and then enter the country again. And how, you ask, can I afford this if I don’t have a working visa in the first place? Very good question, observant reader, very good question.

I know, I could call in to the folks searching for bi/lesbian girls to roll around naked for a shoot, make out a bit, get some pics taken, walk away with nudey prints, sell the nudey prints, and then take off on my shit-ass adventure. Tempting—very tempting.

hand-me-down clothes
hand-me-down furniture
hand-me-down boyfriend
hand-me-down drugs

If it weren’t for the fact that you are completely miserable,
I would be quite jealous and envious,
But because your money cannot buy your happiness,
I am not nearly as affected by your ever-presence—

Though having your name arise in the majority of conversations
Is annoying, your pedestal is lowered
By this ongoing self-pity, which has prevented you from retaining
What it seems you cherish most…

Or maybe you have just had an unlucky run…
And in turn I have lucked out, because if I had these stories—
Of your wealth, career, and random quirks—
And you were happy on top of it all,
I’d slowly be destroying myself in your shadow
And even more resentful than I already am…

But because you wallow in your money, work too hard, and are alone,
I rise above you despite the facts,
And I am happy, unlike you, at least for a little while…
Until you are next mentioned and bring me down again

But I guess it would be rude if I didn’t thank you
For all of the charitable contributions—
The clothes, loans, and secondhand goods (boyfriend included)—
So thank you, ever present one, and maybe someday
I can forget you long enough
And it will be then that I can finally stop resenting you.

Coming to you From the Melbourne Airport

Dear people (over age 15) who travel on planes with pillows from home,

Because you are traveling with your very own and very special pillow, I am completely aware of the fact that you are not well traveled or accustomed to flying. However, do know that pillows are frequently provided for passengers on planes. This means you can save yourself the humiliation of carrying your dirty-ass pillow through the airport. And it will save other travelers as well, because, quite frankly, the rest of the world has no interest in seeing how greasy your hair is or how much you drool.

So next time you’re flying to see your friends and family, think of the others you may offend along the way, and leave mickey, hello kitty, and smelly yellow at home. Thanks in advance for your cooperation and thank you for choosing to fly with us. Enjoy your stay in beautiful Sydney (where hotels/motels/hostels provide pillows as well).

two days in paris

i went to the movies last night. alone. and yes, i do feel the need to mention that i went "alone", because it makes me feel way more independent than i really am. and that's something i need right now.

prior to going in, i picked up some promo material on the film. learned that julie delpey had also been in a film called Killing Zoe. i laughed out loud. and since i had already decided that Two Days in Paris was going to reveal all on my current relationship, i knew this Killing Zoe business was just another connection.

based on the TDP trailer alone, i had concluded that i was the american boyfriend (skeptical and out of place) and that big was the french blonde (witty and stocked to the rim with ex girlfriends).

three minutes into the film, i no longer wanted to be the neurotic, paranoid, irritating american, so i spent the next 45 minutes dwelling on it. and though there were major connections to my life throughout the film, i decided that marion and jack were not luca and big. and though a little disappointed, i was ok and enjoyed the film anyway. quite a bit.

verbal diarrhea

bitchity bitch bitch bitch. bitchity bitch bitch.

i'm a miserable little ungrateful shit that brings everyone around me down.

i had corn fritters for breakfast and i have the shits.

i want to throw expensive and highly breakable stuff off a cliff.

my arms hurt. i like surfing.

i'm a jealous jealous woman. i'm rolling in it.

brought to you from the kitchen...

my potato grew this. i thought it looked like a spider, so i took a picture.

new (and very serious) complaints

i've developed a nose twitch. it's like an eye twitch, but more rabbit-like. i've been stressed and anxious and now my left nostril lets the whole city know. i don't know what the exact reason for this anxiety is (well, besides the obvious nose twitch), but ever since i blew up monday morning i've been edgy, irritable, and a complete drag. it's becoming a real issue (for reasons other than my new twitch); for example: i have had sex once (1 time) in the past week and half (10 days).

so the reason for this big blow up, you ask? it's petty. i'm ok with it. basically, zoe. i just don't like her. i'm entitled to it. ex-girlfriend, she gets in the way, they do coffee, and she's a power player. personally, i think that's all reason enough. but you know, there is more. and it's big.

big and ugly, anyway. correct me if i'm wrong, but garden art is so 60 year old woman. and this is why i really don't want her big honkin' hunk of concrete or whatever the hell it is corrupting my yard.


i've asked big to have her take it out of here. hall it off to wherever hideous garden art goes. he says i need to be patient.

I'LL SHOW YOU PATIENCE...



i swear it's another one of her power plays. a slap in the face saying, "see, he still likes me enough to keep my stupid shit around." well, at least it's almost tolerable now.

shit, but a closer look reveals...

"no luca, don't jump."

from my big ass window...

complaints from my house on the cliff that overlooks the ocean

1) broken coffee machine
2) broken wash machine
3) ass splash toilet
4) broken fridge
5) stolen car
6) wilting flowers
7) bad attitude
8) ex-girlfriends
9) glare on daytime tele
10) mosquitoes
11) dishpan hands
12) fright hair
13) boredom
14) not enough attention

too many mojitos on tuesday night (and by too many, i mean two) and went all sappy. "i love you, i love you, life is perfect, blah blah blah". i'm paranoid, but have concluded that he's definitely not cheating. i ate too much italian food and had an orgasmic dessert. i've called the eating disorder off and i haven't run since monday. i love saying that. "i haven't run since monday". it makes me sound like a runner. "i haven't run since monday".

side note: monday was the first time i've run since high school. sigh. i'll work on it.

i've been watching the girls since monday morning and pulled an overnight with them last night. they're cool enough. still damn glad they're not mine. i went to mama's with them. it was a nightmare. when we walked in, there were 21 kids under the age of 4 and i'm pretty sure half were crying. and the other half were about to start crying, because their crazy ass mothers scream and panic every time they turn their head wrong. shit, Q ate it on the stairs yesterday and i about shrugged it off. damn, crazy mothers.

VO5 curl up went on sale, so i bought some. it's like fright hair in a can. no wonder this shit went on sale. they should repackage it and sell it to the circus. they'd make a fortune. "hey luca, bozo the clown called, he wants his mousse back." sigh. i love my remington straightener.

life is perfect and i am happy. ultra ultra happy.

alright. so tonight is the night. right now life is great. big returned from hong kong. gifts gifts gifts. tennis racket, arcterex jacket. but i'll confront him tonight. and hopefully my life won't go to shit, because i like it right now.

i guess i write when i have problems or when i'm troubled. usually by a relationship. i'm pety and pathetic. oh well.

it's been a year and a half since big and i first started dating. maybe that's why i'm looking for issues in the relationship. i think i'm beginning to think that it's too good to be true, so i'm assuming he's cheating or has cheated. i'll never know.

if he has, i hope he'll admit to it. and i'll just walk away. maybe cry a lot first, then just walk away. and never date again. and i swear i won't.

but hopefully he hasn't, because i love him to pieces and he gives off the same.

the lyrics to "lloyd i'm ready to be heartbroken" are playing through my head. i don't know what they're about. i think heartbreak, jealousy, and blow. if big has been with other women during our relationship, i think i'll be able to relate well. right now i'm just hitting the jealousy bit. stop stop stop.

*He said “I’ll protect you like you are the crown jewels” yet
Said he’s feeling sorrier for me the more I behave badly I can bet--
Hey Lloyd I’m ready to be heartbroken
I can’t see further than my own nose at the moment--
Jealousy is more than a word now I understand
I know you can stay a girl by holding a boy’s hand--
I’ve got my life of complication here to sort out
I’ll take myself to an east coast city and walk about*

paul was right. i love paul. find a hobby, you need a hobby. he may be my savior. he just seemed to get it. sure, he was a little weird (the whole aura reading bit), but i think he was real. and he was honest. paul from QF128, if you're reading this, "thank you".

the hong kong shopping spree:
the reason: ultra lonely in asia, good for people watching, learn the trends (local and international), aus has lowered my self-image and i must compensate with loads of new shit.
the goods:

"fast like puma"--must get into shape to compete with skinny/pretty surfer babes.


good ol' chinese lesportsac knock-off. $2.00aus--how can i expect to get noticed without one?


fashion earrings--just a must have. obviously.


nokia 2626--because my other phone broke and this one was cheap.


and still, i find, i am incomplete. solution: shop more.

well, i've made it. australia australia australia. the place is amazing and big and i are redoing it to make it work for two. i love him. i love it here.

i've been catty and would like to pummel something; maybe even someone. i kind of have someone in mind, but i don't know that it would go over that well. basically, i was banned from my own business meeting. stupid bitch. for the most part, women just really piss me off. and in a weird way, i almost miss mma. oh boys, you drove me insane, but you were, for the most part, damn reasonable. sigh.

i'm ridiculously in love with big. i'm in new zealand and it's beautiful--like autumn in maine with a mega steroid assist. things are going well and i'm happy. i'm ready to be done with travelling and can't wait for sydney. i'm still nervous, but almost too tired to care. i'm ready to explode my bag, decorate a space, have clean clothes available, and just live somewhere. exes shmexes. go ahead ladies, rip me to shreds.

i want to poke someone's eyes out and seeing as how big is the only person i spend time with, it will most likely be his. i feel like i am on a disneyland track through southeast asia. a track that has been done before. like a million times. i hate that he's been to all of these places before. and i'm getting frustrated that we never step away from "big's routine guide through asia".

bangkok-bella bella guest house. koh phangon-haad yuan; bamboo hut. siem reap-green town guest house. phnom penh-okay guesthouse. pai-ben's place.

it's just all been done before and hate wondering how many other women he's already taken to all of these places. i crave something new. leave the safety and comforts of constantly knowing what to expect. is he trying to relive good experiences/memories with me? i want to be unique. not just another chick that he's traveled in southeast asia with. and i want him to be consumed with me to the point where every single reference he makes no longer pertains to ex-girlfriends.

zoe zoe zoe. kristin kristin kristin. margaret margaret margaret. lisa lisa lisa. please shut the fuck up.

i'm sure you had fun times and that's great, but i really don't want to hear about your ex-girlfriends daily. i have ex stories too. i guess i'm just not inclined to incessantly bring them up. tell me stories about you; not stories about you with [girlfriend X #1, #2, etc.]. do you constantly talk about them, because you constantly think about them? hearing about them makes me think you're really not over it. and in that case, i'm just wasting my fucking time.

i'm insanely bratty today.

I'VE ALREADY SPENT TOO MUCH TIME IN THIS INTERNET CAFE. THIS E-MAIL SUMS IT ALL UP FOR TODAY...

from Nix Mix <[nix_mix e-mail here]@gmail.com> wrote:

Hiiiiiiiiiiii
This is my new email address. trying to simplify things.
So sorry I haven't written back to you sooner.
I love you and I miss you and I need you more than ever.
i hope you are doing well. How are things with big? Better I hope. I hope you are find it easier to communicate.
I'm so happy for you and I am very glad you are doing this and doing something that Luca wants to do.
So, are you going to be headed to Austraila or not?
Sounds like you had an amazing birthday.
Again, sorry I'm just now commenting on things you wrote almost a month ago-- but--- as for the find faults in relationships thing- i really think that if it's not the right relationship for us to be with, its our subconscious way of trying to get out of the relationship. trust me- i've been in enough bad realtionships, enough that you have witnessed to know this is true. otherwise, things will find a way of working out. communication is key.
how did things work out with your mom before you left? i hope everything is okay with you two.


well, it's almost noon time here and i'm still in bed. i'm taking a mental health day today. woke up at 6am- walked downstairs and told my mom i wasn't going out on the boat today.
talked to Amix last night- and a whole bunch of shit has changed. i'm warning you- i'm going to sound very negative and bitchy becuase i've written several emails this morning to Navy people and other Navy wifes, filling them in on what's going on with us- but I can't vent and be bitchy to them cuase i'm afraid it will get back to amix.
so- here it goes.
was supposed to be leaving for italy the end of october. with amix. he's in san diego now doing some training that is supposed to end on the 17th. after arrival in sicily together- he was supposed to have a 3 week indoc course before getting assigned to his detatchment (det.). a det is a group of 6-8 people of which he will be in charge of. from there he would have several months work-up or prep time with them before being deployed. so this is what i thought would happen- travel over with husband, have plenty of time to find house and get settled, get a cat because i really want a fuckin cat- and then i prepare myself for his deployment.

so last night i get the call- and i knew this was going to fuckin happen- i new it- cuase everything was so goddamned perfect. he said that another officer in charge of a det. called him yesterday morning from italy. saying that his det and one other are doing joint team training in Norfolk together- preparing for deployment (i thnk to iraq). he says to amix that the other det needs an officer and he asked amix if he would be up for the job. of course, amix being the person he is gets all excited and says yes- which is really the only choice he had. so now looks as if he'll be leaving San Diego a day or to early to go to norfork for one month. during this time they are in the field the entire time practing and shit. from there- they go back to their unit in sicily- (amix will be getting there for the first time). then they have just a couple more weeks of really hard training there and then they deploy. adam is guessing that they will be deploying by the end of december, beginning of january. i have a terrible feeling it will be before xmas.
so in the meantime- i have no idea when i'm getting there. probably not until the end of november. i have no idea if i'm travelling with him or not. i have no idea if i'll even get to see him more than once or twice before he deploys.
i'm so frusterated and overwhelemed and def not ready for this yet. i knew it would happen sooner or later but i just haven't had any time to prepare myself for any of it. so of course as soon as he tells me last night i burst into tears and i'm in hysterics the entire time. he told me to be stronger and all this other bullshit. but i just can't yet cause it hasn't sunk in. i don't even know how long he'll be away for. there are dome det's that are deployed for a year at a time. i'm scared.
so i'm just being a negative asshole today and staying in bed.

well, i need an update on you and need things to distract my mind. sorry for this long sloppy email. i don't feel like spell checking so please ignore my spelling mistakes. i'm really not that stupid.
hope you're well and getting nice and tan.
i love you.
nix

[LUCA RESPONSE]

heyy!
i can't even tell you how perfect your timing is with this e-mail...
i'm lonely and desperate and would do anything to curl up with you on a couch and watch chick flicks--really sad ones, because i want to vent and cry and it sounds like you do too. i can't even comprehend your situation.you are way stronger than i am, because i could never commit to that. i'm proud of you. i really have no advice to give--blah blah blah stay strong bullshit. this must be so so hard for you. it really seems that amix has been dicked around from the begininning and it must be awful not knowing what lies ahead. it seems like a lot of waiting and must be extremely frustrating. amix must be excited that he is being deployed--send my congrats to him (as hard as that may be).

things here are a little insane...
i'm trying to just go with the flow. i'm in cambodia right now; phnom penh (capitol city). big and i left the white sandy beaches of koh penghan, thailand about two weeks ago ( i think. my time scale is all whacked). we spent a day in bangkok getting things figured out and, because big needed to renew his visa, we decided to cross the border into cambodia. it seemed crazy to just step in and out, so we decided to see the wats (temples--some buddhist, some hindu). about 30 temples later, i decided that i couldn't stomach another temple, despite the fact that they were the most incredible and beautiful things i had ever seen. they are located in siem reap and after 4 days there, we took the bus south to phnom penh. i think that brings us to the present. sort of.

big and i are doing so well...
almost broke up after i last wrote to you. had a bit of an explosion, but no yelling--just honest communication,which was totally needed. we decided that we were 100% into eachother and that from that point on would communicate honestly about everything. then i got super sick--crazy fever and i just wanted to be home (and then i remembered that i don't have one). i never said goodbye to sally. she wouldn't even look at me when i last saw her and i never saw her when i got back from CT. we've started writing eachother over e-mail. really basic communication, but she sent me an e-card on my birthday, which was nice.

ok, so here comes the insanity...
big and i were out walking the streets several days back and stumbled upon this amazing little store (here on out referred to as [store X]). i fell in love with their product--BAGS!! well, big, quite the entrepeneur, says "wow, i'd love to import these to australia". and i think that's when it happened. he ran the idea by the shop owner (also the designer and company owner) and before we knew it, everything was full swing. we've been in and out of business meetings, design meetings. there's an opening of the new product line tomorrow that we are attending. it looks like i'll be business partner in all of this and working as a sales representative. it's all happened so fast and i don't know that i want to change my life all around for this, but it's all very exciting. big and i are both hesitant at times, but he says i can have as much or as little involvement as i want--he knows i don't like commitment. i'm excited.

so here's my problem with all of this...
big is great at listening to my input and hearing my concerns, but i feel like i'm about to be pushed to the side in all of this. he's brought his ex-girlfriend in to deal with the e-com side of everything and she's already running with it--talking marketing and bringing in other people. i know it's important to have everything covered, but FUCK--i don't want to be attached to the hip of his ex (who i kind of replaced and i think he was still sleeping with up until this past summer). it's a bit of jealousy, obviously, but i've all of a sudden become this background character to this overpowering business chick. i almost want out now and if offered a perminent position (on the right boat), i think i'd take it. i'm a leading lady, not an extra and i think if i were to walk out unexpectedly, it would be a really powerful statement. maybe my priorities are out of whack.

but for now...
i'm just going to go with the flow. i head to new zealand to babysit during the OB symposium on october 18th and will be in australia by november 1st. even if i'm a background character, i will just live off of big, sell bags, and surf. ha--and here i am complaining. on paper it all sounds just perfect. i'm going to be working with the designer on the prototype of what we're hoping to sell and am getting a custom bag to throw around and test (a bag that will ultimately be sold for at least $100). i'll try and get you one soon. also, if adam isn't around, what's your plan? i'll dump big, and we'll get an apartment in sydney and sell bags!! hehe.

i love you and miss you. ps--read "emergency sex"--it's my recent favorite book. you'll be addicted and you need to escape for a little while.

LO
VE,
LUCA.
sorry this was so long!!!

i just spent an hour and a half at the bookstore on 240 street. i left empty handed. walked back to the guest house and on my way, decided that if other people's books can't inspire me, i'll just write my own. but i'm travelling with a light pack and my computer is in storage in bangkok. clearly can't handwrite a book. absurd.

as i walk, i think about what makes a good book and decide it needs to fly by. easy to follow and rapid time progression (or percieved time progression). personally, as a reader, i like finishing--and i finish quickly when a book just moves me along. upon finishing, i can then prove myself as an educated, intelligent reader. "why, yes--i did read that. wasn't the protagonist just fascinating?"

check! another book finished, another badge earned.

so i decide my book will have a contrived progression--maybe a countdown or dated entries. and they'll be short entries and the reader will feel like they are getting somewhere--even if my writing sucks and they are just reading in circles.

i decide that writing a book without any content is a fucking waste of time, so i make a second trip to the bookstore--a different one. the one at the center of town--same name, but they deal in new and used, so there's a different selection. big brings over a book that he says he enjoyed--a river sutra. i'm on page 6 and have returned to writing despite my lack of computer--and lack of content.

i'm in cambodia, on a hammock, and it is raining--the sky is a consistent whitish grey and the music in this common area of the guest house is way too loud.

there are several people here--reading, lounging. there's a woman sitting on a red cushion about 15 feet away. she's wearing a denim jumper, but it doesn't suit her or really fit that well. i've seen her a couple of times in this common area. she never looks comfortable with herself and there is something awkward about her. i've concluded that i am superior to her and am frustrated with myself for my natural shallow tendencies of unjustifiable judgement. out of the corner of my eye, i can see that she's watching me as i write. she stares while moving awkwardly to the loud music. she looks as though she is intrigued by me--and my writing. maybe she's watching me before she gets enough courage to ask me about what i am writing. perhaps she simply wants to befriend me. i don't give her the time of day.

when did i become so cruel?

i think about this question that i've intended to be rhetorical and after about 10 seconds decide it was some time between high school graduation and freshman year of college. since then, there have been bouts of good and eras of evil. i blame 9 years of living in pure dysfunction with sally and matt. it's my easy out, but i happily take it.

between me and the inferior staring denim jumper wearer, is big. he's reading the book that i finished this morning--the one that sent me scouring the shelves of phnom penh. there is awkward air between us and i know it's solely dependent on the fact that i was a complete shit to him after our [product X] meeting with j&e. i don't know what my problem was. is, rather. i'm still being a little bitch.

the house's dog wanders over and plops down next to the hammock. i rub him and pat him and he soaks it up as if he doesn't get much attention. the workers all look over in what i pretend to be amazement and i secretly want them to tell me i'm the only guest the dog has ever allowed to touch him. as i look over to jumper wearer, i wonder why i need this upper hand. i pat the dog as we make eye contact.

i pretend she's jealous.

she stands up to leave and my focus shifts to big. he's clenching his jaw as he reads. in the time that i have known him, about a year and a half now, i've associated his jaw clenching with him thinking and i wonder if he is really reading or just thinking behind the protection of EMERGENCY SEX. good book. good title. i wonder what i will name my book. wonder if people will read it. do i want people to read it? i picture oprah adding it to her booklist and bringing me onto her show. i've always wanted to be famous.

"hello. i'm luca--the judgemental, heartless, bore you've all read about. thanks for having me, oprah. hello america."

i've relocated to the bedroom. it was initially a bathroom break. i had been needing to piss for a while, so i sluggishly got out of the hammock and walked with radiating attitude past big. he didn't look up, but i'm sure he noticed. i open the door to our small room and flick the light to our bathroom. it takes a while for the flourescent light to flicker on and begin its almost comforting buzz. i look into the mirror as i undo my calvin klein belt. i look frightening. the humidity has made it so that my hair appears to be taking lift off. the flourescent light accentuates my three month old dye job, which was initially a deep maroon, but now sits in white trash orange chunks on top of a frizzy mess that i don't quite know what to do with. my skin is the color of death and looks as though it could sluff off at any moment.

i sit my corpse on the pot and relieve myself. i reach for the toilet paper and then remember--it has been moved out onto the bed to prevent it from getting wet during showers. i sigh before standing up and waddling out into the bedroom--shorts around my ankles and underwear at my knees. by the time i grab the toilet paper, i have piss dripping down my leg and wiping really isn't an issue anymore. but i do it anyway.

i picture big walking in at this very moment; the door open so that the common area gets a peak.

"why, hello awkward jumper girl. look at me in all of my stumbling, corpse-like, naked glory. take a good look, for i am your superior."

she was probably just staring, because i look like such a freak. and here i was--just ripping her to shreads.

god, i'm an ass.

phnom penh is growing on me. we've relocated to "the top banana" guest house and though the name is pretty ridiculous, my overall state of being has improved--immensely. thought the room is smaller, doesn't have blankets for the bed, and doesn't have the option for hot water, it has a window that looks out to the people below. it sounds minor, but it really has changed everything. and i've been reading. EMERGENCY SEX. i fell in love. i've finished it now, but it has left me with optimism that there are good books out there. i had begun to lose hope. big and i are doing well and are on a kick to import [product X] to AUS. it could potentially mean retirement, but do i really want to be a sales girl? i think not. i'm flexible though.

the idea of being attached to the hip of big's ex-girlfriends is infuriating. "i know, "let's call [girlfriend X] to the rescue." the fact that it's the first thing that gushes out of his mouth is just starnge to me. sweet, and let's invite her for a sleepover too. it's a bit of jealousy, but also the fact that he gives these woman say prior to giving it to me. plus, i guess i don't really want to be in a relationship where my partner's entourage is made up of the women he's screwed over the past ten years. vomit. i dunno, it just doesn't really appeal.

I feel like a kid that misbehaved during class and for punishment is now restricted from next week’s field trip. Maybe the only similarities are the cause and effect—misbehavior and restriction. If it were as simple as a student being barred from the MET, I’d simply throw a tantrum and have my mother call to reverse the sentence. But that’s not the case. Instead, my whole world is once again upside down and I’m left kicking for the chair just inches below my feet as I dangle from the rope tied to the ceiling beam. What a waste of time and energy this has been. That’s where I am at today, anyway. Yesterday was better—I was more understanding and less dramatic, but today I can’t help myself. I’m in world behind my eyeballs and I can’t force bubbly caitlin out. I now have less than a month to figure out my next chapter and as of yesterday it does not resemble anything I had previously conjured. [CHAPTER 3—Luca returns to the US with her tail between her legs. She is homeless, carless, and jobless.] Who knows, maybe if I’m a good girl I’ll be allowed to continue on to AUS.

…But for now: slap on the wrist, “Bad Luca, no Australia for you”.

I pooped today and it smelled like mango. I’m perfectly fine with that.

I’m getting more and more used to just doing nothing. I am less stressed than I have been. I am fine that too.

I saw a snake in the water this morning. It was the color of the sand and in a massive coil. My earring fell out and was lying on the bottom about 2 feet away. I got it and scurried out in a semi-panicked way.

Big and I suck lately. I’m just today beginning to like him again, but I’m pretty sure he likes me less. Probably because I have been a shit these past few days. I’m not sure what our problem is—what my problem is. I’m just slightly off. Big says it’s soul delay—I like the idea. My soul hasn’t quite caught up after traveling. And I guess now, that I am in this remote cove and not accessible by road, it hasn’t quite found me. Maybe it’ll arrive for my birthday tomorrow.

I’m in Koh Phangan. I feel ridiculous. I’m surrounded by beautiful people in a beautiful cove with excellent food and have a perfect bungalow. Just slightly out of place. I should be working.

I love it here though. It’s more resorty than I had thought it would be—had been anticipating a less discovered/more third world feel. The water is breathtaking. It’s very close to our bungalow—the crashing waves kept me up late.

We will probably stay here for at least two weeks, which means my birthday will be spent here. I think I’m happy about that. Hopefully we will have a few more friends by then. A friend from Boston happened to be staying here as well. So strange, but Big had recommended it to him knowing that he was heading to Thailand and he stayed a while longer knowing that we were on our way out.

I have stupid hair and miss my straightener. Most of the time it doesn’t even look like it’s attached to my head—just off in its own little absurd world. The other women here have wonderful hair. I don’t quite understand. Hopefully I’m only looking ridiculous to myself.

I’m having a hard time falling back into relationship mode. I think I am used to being the dominant one in a relationship, but I definitely cower and default to Big. I am trying not to. I need to work on being more independent—primarily in social settings. I’m feeling weak and lame.

He has been semi-snotty and I don’t like how he acts when he doesn’t get his way. I had only seen this once back in the states. Irritated that our service was slow—got bratty and was rude to our server. It’s happening more here—maybe a superiority thing? Got rude with a tailor, because the clothes didn’t quite fit and again when instant coffee was brought and not filter. It really got to me. Both seemed so minor.

Hopefully, he gets over himself and this is the last I’ll ever complain about him.

PS—sex in Bangkok was incredible.

This plane smells like vomit and diarrhea. It is possible that somebody yacked in the ventilation system and now the smell of it is being distributed throughout the plane. I’m heading to Detroit now. There is a big football type sitting next to me—about my age and I can’t help thinking about H on my mid-may Logan to Seattle trip. I think I am in love with him.

Football dude is not my type, but it would be nice to have someone to chat with. I’m bored out of my mind. He’s glued to the window. I guess I’ll just sit here and type.

I never said goodbye to Sally. Maybe I will call from Michigan. I’m pretty sure that she doesn’t have service where she is and the only number I have for her is her cell. I’ll leave a message.

Yesterday, I spent the day making Scab a birthday gift. It came out fairly well—I think she’ll like it. She may not love the picture, but hopefully she’ll get over it—it was the only one that fit. I printed it as an 8x10, framed it, and hung it on her wall with a bow. God, I am good—a little last minute, but good nonetheless.

Well, here I am. Back in my room, but it isn’t my room anymore. If I were to yell, it would probably echo, but I’m too nervous to yell. Sally isn’t here, but I still feel like I am walking on eggshells. I returned from CT today. My dad drove me back up—in his minivan. I felt like I was in junior high.

There is nothing here of mine except for the two bags that I fly out with tomorrow and my laptop. The only thing that I had left in my room was a world map on the west wall. Quite symbolic. Ha. Sally clearly hadn’t seen the humor in it and had ripped it down. It was on the floor.

CT was good. Quaint. I felt out of place—I always do when I am there. I try to mold—to the best of my ability. It’s a little bizarre. A middle class dreamland—cul-de-sac and all. Modular home, 3 athletic sons, big yard with a garden, big screen TV, blonde mom (5’8”, 120 lbs; runner), and a pug. My dad has a ride-on mower. It’s eerie. I got a pedicure and found myself frequently clicking aimlessly through their bajillion digital cable channels.

My stomach is all knotted and being ridiculous. I have the shits. I think it is a culmination of things—flying, leaving for an indefinite period of time, losing my best friend/mother, lack of support, too little time in a day. My flight is from Logan at noon. Logan to Detroit to Narita and then to Bangkok. Big will meet me at the airport. I miss him. I’ve been having terrible dreams about him, though. Dreams where he is constantly with other woman. In reality, I don’t know that I’d mind him being with other woman, but in the dreams I am insecure and crazy and I wake up all edgy. Edgy—I think that accurately sums up the past couple of weeks.

Sally is crazier than my words can possibly convey. I understand that she may be jealous, lonely, and feel that she is lacking support, but my staying could not possibly help her. She is a financial nightmare—the money pit to end all money pits. I’ll send money when I can. Attempts at selling el carro have been useless. I think I’ll donate her to public radio. If Sally could sell her, I’d be fine with her keeping the money—she needs it. I can survive without it—at least for a little while. She doesn’t see clearly on this and prefers screaming at me to get rid of it. PLAN A: a “for sale” sign. PLAN B: scream it out of your driveway.

Talking reasonably with her is futile—her word choice is impeccable and she is more persuasive than the most persuasive thing you can possibly think of. By the end of most conversations you are nodding in agreement with her and everything you thought you stood for is out the window. I’m not willing to put myself in that situation. I’m leaving—I have to. I’ll lose my mind here.

Onto brighter things: all of my shit is about packed—4 garbage bags of clothes going to goodwill, 2 bags going to the consignment shop, 1 laundry basket filled with shit going to the dump’s “Boutique”, and 1 garbage bag going to the good ol’ dump itself. Sigh. And it will still be a tight car to CT. Good tunes, good company, your nightmare of a cat, and a car filled with all the shit you own—nothing like it.

I’m feeling too stressed and serious. I need drugs—CT should be good for that. Sigh.

this is how i write when i am being serious. a letter to big that sums up my current situation...

"BIG,
I’ve been unable to call you on the number that you texted me from. I’ve sent a few texts—I’m not sure if you’ve received them. I’m having a difficult time here.

I’m doing everything in my power to restrain myself from canceling my ticket. I’m sure this does not come as a surprise to you. I could see it in your eyes, prior to your leaving, that you had little faith in me honoring it. I’m still planning to fly the 2nd—and I want to…more than anything.

Sally and I really haven’t spoken since that phone call in JP. I had figured her reason for being upset had to do with my leaving the nest. Now, I think it’s more that she had been planning on my support after my time at –JOB—. I received a phone call from my aunt last night begging me to stay in the states. Between calling me immature, self-centered, and a terrible daughter, she informed me that my mom was contemplating suicide.

This has happened before, but it’s different this time. I feel like my leaving could be her tipping point. My aunt asked me to stay to support my mom and sisters until my mom was back on her feet—who knows when that will be…

I realize that it’s not my responsibility to support them, but I don’t know how I’ll live with myself if I leave in the midst of this. And if my mom were to do herself in, I’d have more self-blame than I could handle.

On top of this, the doctors have found something on one of my mom’s kidneys. She will not be taking any further action with it and has made it clear that she is giving up all fights—financial, personal, medical, etc.

Sally has cooled down significantly since last night, however, as of this morning, Wilhem is not moving in and she is planning her move to VT (without my sisters). I do not know how I could help the situation if I stayed—financial support, more suicidal tendencies?

I am sorry to burden you with all of this—I’m just really lacking support right now and I am out of places to turn. I’d love to hear your take on all of this.

I am still planning to move all of my stuff down to CT on Monday and fly on the 2nd. Hopefully, I will find support in CT. I love you and I miss you.

LUCA"

it wasn't until yesterday that i went to astrologyzone.com. big had warned me prior to going out on course and advised that i not read it until i returned. august 22nd and just reading my monthly horoscope...what is happening to me?

basically, august is a rollercoaster month for me, but i'm a wonderful little coping virgo. what's new?

bits and pieces from susan miller:
susan: "Be good to yourself, dear Virgo. You often put others first, but this month, you'd be wise to find time for yourself, perhaps by treating yourself to a massage or for quiet walks after dinner." luca: "or a trip to thailand?"

susan: "Your focus will be a close partner who will act in a surprising, erratic, or even shocking way, and in so doing stir your emotions very deeply at this time. You may break things off or be given a shocking revelation, leaving you feeling shaken and spent. At all times, remain philosophical - you need to know the truth." luca: "sighh."

sally is being insane. she called the other night when i was having dinner with friends. pulled her crazy jealous, flip out, "i never travel, but you do" shit. kicked me out, so now, along with the whole "2 weeks to prep for leaving the country for several months" shit, i need to miraculously move (carless) to an attic in connecticut. shoot me in the temple now.

oh susan, i am trying to cope. really, i am.

i have a new watch. someone left it on the island and now it is mine. i like it a lot. i leave for thailand in two weeks. i will sleep until then. i am exhausted.

my course was borderline nightmarish. i had a student that was just an asshole. there is really no way around it. i know i'm not supposed to talk about students that way, but it's just fact. he fought everything i said. it sucked. i'm glad i'm done. i need this break.

i've tried counting it all out and, assuming that i do not run out of money (which is a deifnite possibility), i will be away for about 4 months. my time will be spent between thailand and austrailia. big leaves tomorrow and i'll meet up with him in bangkok. and then we'll probably have sweet, passionate, insane, bankokian sex, because that's just what we do. except it usually isn't bankokian, because we've never had sex in bangkok before.

i'm excited about leaving, which is funny, because i feel like i haven't been excited since i was 7. that's probably bullshit, but it's good to know that it can still happen. i'm a little petrified about going to sydney, though. when i first met big he was still in a relationship with a woman in sydney. it wasn't made clear to me until several months into our relationship, but as we continued it became more and more evident that there was some definite overlap. i learned fairly late in the game that she was still living in his house (bleghhh). i guess i just don't know fully where that relationship is and i don't want to be little miss america drama bullshit in austrailia. i hate that shit. i need a nap.

a successful day with google image search. i think i'm in love.

i start course prep tomorrow. my time off is over. i do not feel rested. i went to the cape for some recoop time, but it turned into a stress fest. the holiday house alone was enough to send me into a panic attack. a small cape belonging to a coworker's deceased grandmother. italian american grandmother. basically, take a bunch of crucifixes, some last supper reprints, ultra gaudy 1930s furniture, and some creepy family photos and throw them up all over a little cottage and add an old lady/mildew smell. take this and intensify your current mental picture...that should just about sum it up.

i enjoyed my time with big. he stressed me out, though. incessantly talked about future plans and tried to alter my look. i guess i need to look more conservative to work on yachts. i personally find 0g ears and dark red streaks very pretty, but i guess the yacht-owning population prefers a more classic look. egh.

he leaves for thailand soon. right around the time i go back out into the field. and then i need to scrounge up enough money to join him. i can tell he doesn't think i'll be able to pull it off. he hasn't come directly out and said this, but i think he's pushing me away with the thought that these next two days could very well be the end. and he's not completely off. i'm a money pit. i spend it like i have it.

he met my dad's side of the family yesterday. it went surprisingly well. they all loved him and he seemed to enjoy them as well. i was nervous about how my dad would react. i mean, he was aware of the age difference, but he could have very easily played the overprotective card. linda, my step-mum, really liked him. really really liked him. i'm not nervous yet, but seeing as how big is closer in age (two years older) to her than me, i'll be sure to keep a watchful eye. ha. how very very odd.

i'm back from course. i didn't make it clear that i was leaving, but just know that i'm back now. i have four days off. just enough time to get over my culture shock and then i head back out. sweet.

i'm currently covered in chocolate frosting, because i've forgotten how to eat in a civilized manner. i feel ridiculous and there are way too many people around. the music here is loud and it is stressing me out. i have gotten better since my return, though. i mean, at least i'm no longer flinching everytime a car drives by.

i had sex for the first time since i've been back. i giggled my way through it and couldn't take it seriously or get into it. i guess that's what happens when you push sex from you mind for two weeks and spend 24/7 with twelve 14 year olds on a 28-foot boat. it was still fun. ridiculous, but fun nonetheless.

these are my current stresses:
1) my macbook is a horrendous piece of ultra slow crap
2) my bank account was in the red for my entire course and a brilliant portion of my paycheck went towards it
3) my shitbox car did not sell and currently has a flat tire
4) there are not enough hours in the day
5) my wisdom teeth are coming in and they make me want to hurl
6) my paycheck is just about all spent and i don't have enough money for my ticket to thailand
7) the humidity is giving me fright hair
8) my license is being held up and it probably has something to do with me being completely irresponsible
9) i'm suffering from a cedric-induced emotional rollercoaster
10) i am completely exhausted from pulling 20 hour days

this picture pretty much sums it up. sigh. today i'm the one on the left (happy, but totally sucking it in).

you can compliment me on the style of my hair
give me marks out of ten for the clothes i wear
you probably thought i had more upstairs
i disappoint you, i can see through your perfect smile
CAMERA OBSCURA

i'm unbelievably fuckin' happy.

i passed my final shit-ass exam today and now i'm a 500GT ocean mate (100GT ocean master). this basically means that i've alleviated a significant source of stress and can now focus on more important things. like coffee, sex, and money. it also means that my head has grown significantly and pretty soon my, already too scrawny, neck will be unable to support it. and it also means that i can be a mate on big boats (and master on smaller boats) on the ocean (which is better than rivers, lakes, harbors, and near coastal waters). yay.

i'm in the north end and at a wonderful little coffee shop and i'm alone and beaming ridiculously. smiling is ok when other people are around, but when you smile by yourself you just look like a fool. i do anyway. i think the men next to me are mafia and they keep giving me the death stare. i just keep beaming. i can't help it.

ok, the men next to me are definitely mafia. i love them. one is about 32 and pretty damn hot. nice italian shoes and a good accent. the other guy is bigger, louder, and funnier. he's selling and buying and selling. and probably killing people too. and then there is another older man that doesn't say anything--the godfather. i don't even know what that means.

they're filming a movie across the street. i think. that's what i've gathered from the conversations around me. i want to be in it. i could be a star. i want to model. i want to be seen. clothed, nude, high fashion, overweight...it doesn't matter. maybe i'll be discovered today.

the guys next to me are definitely mafia. this is great coffee shop excitement. i should come here more often.

...and the shopping list continues:
dried mango, chocolate covered ginger, sun block

...and a todo list is added:
get tides and currents, get lyrics for various top 40 songs, sell gert

i'm feeling ultra drab and have been faking it since sunday. no spark, passion, enthusiasm. i'm sure i'm just delightful to be around. took a massive test today and should have failed it, but the proctor was rooting for me; changed one of my answers and gave me two to check. surprise surprise, i got a 100. i still feel like a failure.

i'm thinking that after course i'd like to buy a 'round the world ticket. convenient that gert got a bite today--$1900. "SOLD to the nutbag that wants her"!!

i need to go shopping for course:
3 avocado, 2 salami, kalamata olives, baby wipes, capers, carrot juice, beets, goldbond powder, cashews, sesame sticks, chocolate covered espresso beans, tea, spinach

had a super crazy dream where i was fooling around with sarah (who, honestly, i've never been attracted to). not saying that i haven't been attracted to girls. i have. even had girls i've wanted to fuck around with. she's not one of them, i promise. anyway, the dream bugged me all day yesterday. i'm over it.

on tuesday, i was convinced that i was pregnant. i began to pick out names. on wednesday, i punched myself in the stomach repeatedly. i even threw myself over a chair. on thursday, i got my period. i like to think the punching had something to do with it. guess i'll never know. i'll just keeping railing on myself everytime i'm a little late.

i took the bus to see calen yesterday. he's been in the area for a week now and it happened to work out that we had time off that coincided. i'm absolutely in love with him. it's really quite ridiculous. about four years now. four years and not even a drunken make-out sess. like i said, really quite ridiculous.

he slept on the floor and i took a couch. made some awkward exchanges about comfort level just before crashing. could have easily joined him on the floor if i hadn't been such a candy. i would have felt guilty today though...seeing big and all. sex would have been nice.

it's been a year now with big. a year, several paid flights, and some pretty full on sex. rough. could be rougher.

he's driving me crazy today, though. it could very easily have to do with the fact that i have my period, but he's totally intruding on my bubble and being ridiculously needy. i'm feeling smothered and earlier considered stabbing him with potato peeler. thought better of it. but seriously, one would think that at his age, the needy immature shit would have ceased. maybe it never does. how very very disappointing.

dating someone that is closer in age to my parents has been interesting to say the least. fun, exciting, and risky at first, but i think it's beginning to lose the appeal. lately i've been more concerned with other people's opinions than consumed in the raw attraction and i'm distancing myself. i guess i do enjoy the idea of having a "sugar daddy". it sounds trashy, but it's funny what people can get used to. and funny what becomes "normal" after a while.