March 2002 Archive

** So I’m back & up to speed again **
Laundry done, bed made, paper work in order, writing deadlines hmmm.. still got a few of those, don’t I. Woops. Anyways, it’s St. Patty’s day weekend and there are a load of B.A.P.’s (Big Asian Parties) going on. Eh, not really interested in them as it’s a been there, seen that, done that, bought the tee shirt, went on the book signing tour, kind of thing. If all else fails, hmm I suppose.

Am I the only one that finds it a little wrong to be celebrating St. Patty’s Day with narry an Irish person in the crew? Much less Catholic, yo? St. Patty is a *Catholic* ya know. It used to be, post college, that all my white friends were co-workers. Now the only white folks I know are former co-workers and blogger peeps. Oy, Hello, are you white? Are you Irish? Do you want to have a beer tonight? *Call me*.

Min Jung

Mini Update
Yes, I know. I keep on putting off writing that huge monstrous sxsw update.
And the longer I put it off, the more I think I should censor myself from snark.
For shame.

At least I have my photo gallery on the trip up now.
And if you want to contribute snark re: sxsw, do so here.

Additionally, I know I need to update my links with the list of marvy folks that I met over the week.

**********
In other news.
The reading went well and I tried not to feel like a dork amongst some trully talented performers.
Judy Hamaguchi read “Flashbacks” which made me laugh outloud. I read something that I had scrambled together earlier today
(which I’ll publish here after rewriting some of it…it was rather rough).
I also read “If you & I were Paper” and “Match”
Ishle ROCKED and if you want to read or attend some really fantastic spoken word, then do support her by purchasing her chap book. She says it’ll help her get accross the bay bridge for a couple more days. I especially liked her piece titled “Pussy”. It was incredibly rad to say the least and one always has to support another rocking Korean American sister.
Suz Takeda rounded up with a glorious performance from the church of the Born Again Asian American.

To round out the evening, I present to you a flashback with my little ditty “If you & I were paper” (I really will get a chapbook done, too. Promise)

If you & I Were Paper
If you and I
were paper

or would
we find ourselves
a pair of wishful cranes
side by side
until crumpled

You’rs trully will be reading tonight at

BRIDGES: ONE NIGHT ONLY PERFORMANCE NIGHT
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 13, 2002, 7PM
Locus 1640 Post
1640 Post (btwn Laguna and Buchannan)
San Francisco
No cover, donations always accepted
The National Japanese American Historical Society (NJAHS) and Locus 1640 Post present Bridges, ongoing public programs featuring contemporary Korean American and Japanese American Women Aritists. This one night only special performance features slam poet and teacher Ishle Yi Park (soon-to-be featured on HBO’s Def Poetry jam), writer-performers Suz Takeda, Judy Hamaguchi and special guests.

*SMOOCH*

I smooch the bed that is my own.
I smooch my keyboard.
I smooch my phone.
I smooch my very own bathroom sink with full sized (not travel sized) tooth brush.
Woops, I failed to smooch my roommate (potpie) for picking me up from the airport. But nyahhh, we don’t do that and he’s sick anyways.
*grin*

But yes folks, I’m home. I had a miserable flight where half of a fraternity insisted on staring at me and cracking jokes under their breath in that way that makes you feel like they’re either going to jump you, or you have toilet paper hanging out of your pants. Or both. I dunno.

But I’m back from my SXSW adventure.
I have *LOADS* of stories and many people to thank for their gracious hospitality, kindess, and brilliant conversations.

After meeting dozens of really cool folks, sitting in a couple of panels, and essentially drinking my weight in beer & cranberry vodka’s, I’m fairly wooped and having difficulty formulating complete, coherent, and reasonably cogent thoughts. But bear with me.

A big sxsw post blog is forthcoming.

Then I gotta write something for a reading for Locus Arts that I am doing tonight.
OY. Does the party ever end?

SXSW
Tension, Trauma, and Turpitude.

Hello folks, I’m hailing in from TX.
Let me tell you how the trip has been so far.

Friday: Ernie & I fly out on Friday AM without any hitches. We have a 4 hour layover in Dallas.
Hmmm driving to Austin only takes 2.5-3 hours…why don’t we ditch our connecting flight & drive, huh? Sounds fun and we could hook up with Brad for his “Breaking Bread” shindig. Though I don’t Karaoke, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

We get a cherry red mustang. God bless America. We hit the road. Get caught up in traffic surrounding 2 car accidents, and finally arrive in Austin about 40 minutes after our flight would have arrived. Shiznit. On a stick.

We catch up with our pals and hosts VJ & Greggie, wake up Bertie, and deliver famous chinese ginger cookies from sf with the hosts, chill, and then head out to meet the blogging hipsters at Polly Esthers (yeah, the name of every other dorky 80s retro club) for chilling over Smirnoff Ice.

Ernie does a resounding aplaudatory rendition of Britney’s “Oops I did it again.”
The very upset and flustered woman who had to follower his performance with “Hit me baby one more time” was very upset. To say the least.
And she did badly. Yup, Ernie does Britney better than a blonde in Tx. Go figure.

There was some odd drama with our hosts that resulted, the following morning, in me having to smack them on the wrists to behave.

Saturday: FOBIqUE. Yes. Another intense visit in carniverous consumption as we visited the Salt Lick for bbq. We were lucky to have Pamela join us on this sojourn and then checked into our hotel. Later, too many vodka tonics & vodka cranberries at the following official parties…and much dancing and dissing of local boys hitting on me the local disco (yes, Polly Esthers again). More karaoke. More mischief.

Later that evening, rooming with myself and Bertie, an excess in estrogen leaves Ernie mumbling to himself with a pillow over his ears saying “Happy place, I am in my happy place. Happy place. Happy place”

Sunday: Calling in to the airlines to confirm our return flight to Oakland on Monday only to hear that our reservation has been totally and completely canceled because we missed our connection in Dallas.

Panic.

Panic some more.

Panic yet again.

Did I mention panic?

I suddenly get a Paris Adventure flashback and wonder where the hell the nuns are to save me.

After abusing the facilities in the trade show for internet access, scouring travel sites, calling airlines, and serious consideration of renting a car to drive back to Oakland (36 hours oy, veh), I am able to book my flight home via Northwest Air – 20,000 miles zip gone. But I’ll be home on Tuesday night, and not have to pay $900 for a one way ticket or $300 to get a flight back under such short notice.

Plans for tonight? Flirting with cute boys, drinking more vodka tonics, and trying to behave so that there will be no more tension, trauma or general torpitude for the rest of the trip. Photos forthcoming. And honestly, I’m still having fun. No, really.

MJ

Today’s to do list
* Get Healthy
Um, yeah. That’s pretty much it.

So I’m looking forward to SXSW tomorrow. And feeling like it’ll be a much different experience than last year when I was totally new to the whole blogging thing and the blogger community and didn’t know who or what the “a-list” people were and what to think of them. I was a journaler, a gal in the Asian blogger ghetto, and little else.
I wasn’t technical, hadn’t published a book, hadn’t dated another blogger, and had no sex life worth mentioning online. I didn’t follow muchly the lives of other bloggers and my claim to fame (or at least recognizability…if that) was my participation in SurvivorBlog.

This meant, of course, that in my head, I would revert back to high school battle tactics for social survival and hang only with my “crew” of SB folks (aka the Asian Posse & Kevin) and do a pre-emtive snobbery/diss strike on anyone else who I didn’t know who might be an a-lister or what not. Sigh. What a maroon I was.

This year, it’s a little different. (no, I still have no sex life worth mentioning). And now that this community has become such a significant part of my life, with many a night hanging out online with folks, reading about the details of their lives, “face” meetings with locals here, going to big blogger parties, and even visiting with them when on travels beyond the bay…well… I’m still no superstar, nor a-lister, but my perspective has certainly changed.

Hmm, I might even actually attend some conference workshops this year.
Toodles,
MJ

This is WAR.

With a flight to Texas just less than 60 hours away, I am declaring war against the microbes, bacteria, and viral teams that have decided to attack me over the last few days. I’ve been coughing loads, and my nose has begun to sniffle. I refuse to be sick for sxsw. This is completely unacceptable.

In my arsenal:
* Delsym (not to be confused with the Street Fighter character) Dextromethorphan Polistirex for extended release suspension. 12 Hour cough relief. Tastes like melted orangesicles.
* Toms of Maine Natural Cough & Cold Rub – Hey, this stuff is handy even when you’re not at a rave. Who would have thunk it?
* Celestial Seasonings Soothers – Herbal Throat Drops in Sunshine Citrus and extra powerfully packed with Vitamin C. These be oranges that pump iron and then get squeezed into candy. Weee.
* Skintimate Moisturizing Shave Gel for Bikini & Underarm… with Sunflower extract… oh wait, shit, how did that get in there? Uh… troop morale… um.. yeah.

Woot.

MJ

Sexiest.Geek.Ever.
Dan recently launched a gorgeously geeky redesign of his site. Though I rather miss the moppy haired pictures he had on his site earlier… still my socks are completely blown off and I must go search for them now, behind my bookshelf.

Notes to Self
I swear that I was writing notes to myself before it became “vogue”.
Reminders, little observations of my own stupidity that I had to ammend for my future progress, etc etc.
Shopping lists, errands lists, return phone call lists, etc.
If you’ve read me before than you know how much I adore a list and the visceral little satisfaction that comes from scritching off an item on my various nefarious lists.

Here I present to you some recent Notes to Self.
#1. Remember to believe in your own fabulousity without failing to embrace your own dorkitude. It’s what makes a gal human. Had i my 2X20 at SXSW, that’s what I’d say is real. Folks desperately need to recognize their shivvery brilliant potential while embracing without criticism their innate humanity, their flaws, and gorgeous scars that create an experience that is fiercely human, and all the same utterly holy. That, my friends, is what is real. Say it with me folks.
“I believe in my own fabulosity. I embrace my dorkitude.”

#2. Remember boundaries when it comes to emotional disclosure, whether it is with friends, online, or with family etc. Not everyone wants to hear your brain throw up all the time. And sometimes what your brain throws up is stinky. Stop once in a while.

#3. Stop day dreaming like a little twit. It will not help crush subject to be any more available, and it makes you look like an idjit.Especially when you start humming and moaning. (Kidding. Sorta.)

#4. Stop inheriting bad habits from your parents. Most recently notable would be my inheritance of poor laundry techniques from my mother. Spilling bleach into my “whites” load that had my blue & white striped sheets in it, now makes it appear as if my pillowcases wrestled wwf style with Jerry Garcia. And lost. Badly.

#5. Be fearless with flirting back. A male subject, not the crush subject, but the raver boy subject, has recently invited me on a date to Napa. Hoo hah.Of course he may not be nearly as interesting off the drugs as he appeared on them, but hey, it’s Napa. Though I am mighty mighty skeptical about the potential “you complete me” hoo hah potential of this feller. Still, a trip to Napa is a trip to Napa. And ya’all know how much I dig my vino.

#6. Remember that you will be a *professional* again in a scant few weeks. Yeah folks, I start my new job on the 18th and have to start remembering to get to bed before midnight. And definitely *NOT* blog at 3:40 AM. Woops. Shit.

#7. Stop putting yourself in situations that torture you. Hottubbing with a hot, gay, man, while utterly delightful, fun, and charmingly refreshing, if done on a frequent basis, will cause you to cry bitterly into your jerry-garcia-bleach-tye-dyed pillow while muffling a cry of “Why Gawd.. why do you tease me so”
I swear, if I believed in reincarnation (which I’m not really supposed to as a Catholic) then I was a fabu gay man in my last life and will be so again in my next life.
Seriously though, I hung out with Philo just to help him dye his hair. We hopped in the hot tub after to chill and giggle.

Funny, that particular bikini that I wore has never seen beach or pool action, but only hot tubs. Why is it that I’m always hot tubbing with unavailable men?
First the married diplomat (who bought me the bikini to go hottubbing) the second with fabulous gay man. Cursed bikini. Wonder if I should take it to SXSW to use at our hotel..hrmmm…

BTW, If you’re capable, help support a brilliant lesbian with her sxsw adventures. Bertie’s got a SXSW strippers & beer paypal fund up & running. Throw a few bucks in and I’ll hop in a hot tub with Bertie & take pictures.
*grin*

#8. Note to self. Remember that am straight. Woops.

#9. Remember to call father regularly so that he will think that his horrible daughter who is both stupid and ugly (expressed sarcastically always, between dad to daughter and back again) has not caused much trouble over the past week and the energy crises, and the arms race have not been unduly affected by her odd habits, general clumsiness, or curiosity.

#10. Be thankful. For life, indeed, is quite good.

Peace out folks.

Top 5 10 Thoughts in the Head of a Crush

10. Shouldn’t I be done with crushing on folks by now? Crush’s should not outlast zits.
9. What is the difference between a crush and being interested in someone? The difference between “Hit me with your best shot” and “Woops, I just shot myself in the foot. Again.”
8.Also, the difference between a tongue in someone’s mouth, and a foot.
7. Crush subjects are always far more interesting in one’s fantasies than in real life. This logic does not register, in the mind of a crush, however.
6. There is an enormous and annoying anomoly between having one’s confident swerve on, versus turning into a 15 year old who is spilling drinks, snorting into them when giggling, and blushing.
5. Why do I always look like a dork when I see him Why do I always feel like a dork when I see him.
4. Is it impossible for me to for once look cool, & cute, and not like an anime character when he’s around?
3. Should I stop by his house and bring him someting…uh…just friendly like…um… note to self, remember boundaries…crush–> stalker is not a good direction to go towards.
2. What did I do to deserve this stupid “Dawson’s Creek” level of teen giddiness and angst. When will it end? Ack.
1. Why, oh dear gawd, why. Why won’t he *love* me?

(cough cough)
Don’t ask.

Memories…from the corners of my mind

OY veh.
So I’m finally cleaning through reading non essential mail and come across my high school newsletter. The class updates are full of wedding announcements and birth announcements. The announcements, 2 full pages of them, are all some variation of this

“Molly **** ’92 is expecting a baby with her husband Boyd *** . This is their second child. Their first was premature because we all know that they didn’t have pre-marital sex. They live in Bloomfield, MI,”
“Sally **** ’88 married Jeff *** in September 2001. She is a an elementary school teacher who lives about 2 miles away from her parents and still has no personality.”

Maybe it’s because I’m not married, nor popping out kids, but I find this annoying. (as if you couldn’t tell). Haven’t people done anything more interesting than get married & pop out kids. Gracious, my parents didn’t make me suffer through nuns & kilts so that I could be like these women who have just become high class Catholic breeders (based on the little news given in the newsletter). Please tell me there is something more interesting. Tell me about the woman who has is doing cancer research or who has acquired her Ph.D. in nuclear physics. Tell me about the alumna who’s been on an Olympic team. Tell me about the alumna who is on a stripper in Vegas. Tell me something *interesting*.

My 10 year anniversary is forthcoming and I’ve had fantasies about bringing Davezilla & Philo there as my faux boy toys…explaining in all scandalous fabulousity that I met them at a porn convention in Vegas. I’d be dressed in red and the boys would look spicy in black leather pants & collars. Wouldn’t that be rad? Either that or show up ragingly drunk and kiss the student class president square on the lips. Or just *something* to make the reunion intriguing for once. I dunno. I just have a feeling the reunion will be a drag except for the satire aspect of it. No wonder I hated highschool while I was there. Well, there are innumerable reasons for why I hated highschool, really.

I would delight in forwarding off an announcement that would be published in the next quarterly newsletter that would say to this effect.

“Min Jung Kim, Alumni Class of ’92, whom you might remember as Julia Kim, the mousy academic Asian, is now an embittered and extremely vocal lesbian in the feminist militia where she has recently been promoted to Big C*nt of the 3rd rank, an honor distinguished by a puce gherkin. She has an active and successful career as a sex therapist and has published several books including “Chicks don’t sin unless they’re good at it”, “Batteries are *not* necessary”, and the acclaimed “If God wanted us to be virgins, then why’d he make me wet at 15.” She plans never to move back to Michigan and to promptly throw rocks at anything in a kilt that might advance towards her. “

Rabbit Rabbit – Woah off to a weird March Already.
Feeling: Happy 80% Cloudy 05% Cranky 15%
Pray It Forward: For a friend who’s emotionally burdened.
Thinking: My sleep schedules are wacked and there’s less than a week until SXSW
Listening To: Ben Harper – Sexual Healing (Cover of Marvin Gaye)

Nuttiness.
So website update, stuff is slowly coming along. Comments – fixed, Linksy Love randomizer – fixed. Archives – uh… woops. I’m going to redesign the blog page so that I don’t have the extra scroll bar in there too based on several peeps feedback. Just give me a bit of time so I don’t futz other stuff in the meantime. The other interior pages…well slowly getting organized and puttering out. Patience folks. I had that homestead site for over 3 years, ya expect me to port it all over overnight? Nope. Especially with the amount of crap code put into each html file. Grr.

So how was your weekend?
Mine, typical, normal, the usual. Typical if you’re me, that is.

Friday night – still recovering from last weekend, I futzed around and figured out the web-gallery function on photoshop and read a book.

Saturday – some grocery shopping, cooking, color commentary on the creepy dark storyline in the latest Scooby Doo movies, and a rave with Ernie, Paris, Fuzzy Mike, & Racer Mike. The music was eh…and I have decided to be a squeaky clean well behaved girl for a while. Still, oddness, I got more action than anyone else there, as I got picked up on by a very nice, cute, but e-ed out Korean boy. Go figure. I tend not to take too seriusly the flirtation attempts of those under the influence, ya know? Still, if he manages to remember my email addy & jot me a note, I’ll keep ya posted. And oh yeah, he’s got a gay roommate so maybe Ernie & I can double date. Weird concept, no? But somehow so right. The rest of the folks crashed out by 3. I wound up playing SSX Tricky until 9 AM. Sick, I know. I swear I wasn’t on any drugs. But after a huge coffee and a can of “Rockstar” at 10 at night, I was physically and mentally incapable of winding down.

The first words I woke up to, this morning?
Ernie screaming out on the phone to his pal Lil “NO, I DON”T SHAVE MY ASS…WHAT THE HELL KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT”. To say the least, that wasn’t the most lovely image to wake up to. Raver Mike (yes, yet another Mike, ask Ernie about how many Mike’s he knows and how come Fuzzy is the only one who he hasn’t made out with. Yet.) swung by as well. Immediately following that were a flurry of phone calls from the Guerilla Queer Bar folks of San Jose who insisted that our crew join them in Berkeley for a rally to protest some right wing thing. *What?* Uh…k, onward, ho.

The rally, was all that is gloriously wacked as all shit about Berkeley.
- A rocking marching band
- Naked. Fat. Elvis.
- Color guard redhead hotties and topless dudes sashaying up to folks and on top of a roof
- Mateo womping along on a megaphone
- Street hardened kids who spout off with *no* provocation their opinions about libertarian political dogma & ideology
- Drugged out, homeless carrying signs that say “Bush will fuck your kids in the ass”
- Over a hundred gay men in full force wearing red, white and blue.
- One in particular prancing about in his briefs,
- A woman who looked like the quintessential PTA soccer mom running through the crowd with flags
- Soccer Mom was later overheard shouting out “I need a beer”

And oh, lots more. I was thrilled beyond belief when a cute redhead color guard gal made a beeline straight for me and started freaking my leg. Delight oh my soul. God bless America. Now I get it. I really really get it. *THIS* is what my parents slaved and scrimped for so that we could immigrate to the states.

Some pix today.
Me & the hot redhead.

Elvis. With his pants on. (Thank goodness)

America – Open for Business

OMG! They (the right wing) killed Elvis! You bastards! (Some of the hecklers started leapfrogging over Elvis’s prostrate body)

Ernie is scared of the proletariat. And their awful hegemony. (I actually don’t know what that means.)

Fuzzy Mike & Paris – Enjoying the sunshine at least.

God Bless America. God Bless America, indeed.

Awww shit.
I was just trying to add some extra links into the php array weblog randomizer thing and I fucked it up.
Shit on a stick.
Note to self, if it’s working, don’t touch it.
If it’s working and you want to fiddle with it, keep a copy of the original in case you fuck it up (even though it *looks* relatively easy to tweak at the time)
Note to self: do nothing on your site after 3 AM.

Feeling: Happy 80% Cloudy 15% Cranky 05%
Pray It Forward: Thanks. For Everything.
Thinking: It’s good to sit back and appreciate the blessings of one’s day.
Listening To: Toad the Wet Sprocket – Crazy Life

I’m amazed by little things that make me feel very small.

* Did you see how bright the moon has been the last few nights? It’s amazing to see it cast shadows through the trees and sprinkle silver through the stakes of small home fences. And if you’re very quiet, and very still, and all you can hear is the wind and your heart beating, and the small gasps of aww you take when you it all in, it’s quite breathtaking and marvelous. It makes you feel very alive, very small, but very precious when you sip in such a lovely still moment.

* I feel amazed that I have such awesome, intelligent, and talented friends who care enough about me to help me out with this little site, which in essence, is partly an expression of vanity, and a small little place for me to divulge the inner tinkerings of this little girl’s head.

* I feel awed that by trusting, completely and wholly in the forces of the universe, that I can feel the movement of positive change around me. Translation, well, I got a job. And yeah, I’m “shaking my ass” in delight. (Ariel, you’re off the efluvilicious hook with your magical cookie…which in fact, was not white chocolate macadamia nut but ghiradelli chocolate chip tummy delight)

* I feel loved. By no on in particular. I just feel good. Within my own skin and comfortable with it. Why I wasn’t like this always, I don’t know. Though I attribute writing in a journal/blog regularly, a public one, no less, that forces me to be honest, articulate, and real, as the fundamental root. There is nothing more I can think of, beyond my faith, and my friendships, which have helped me identify and trace the very outlines of who I am, the thin prickliness of my skin, my patches & flaws, my scuffs and scabs, the white coldness of bone, the ache of a muscle so simple as in a girl’s heart, all of these things, and more…which have been scritched in the scribing and kissed in metaphor and self analysis over the last couple of years that I’ve been writing and keeping up a website online.

Peace out, folks. And as my mom always said to me when she kissed me on the forehead, “Habba good dreamuh.”