Friday, August 5th, 2011. Nothing more or less significant.

God, do I miss writing here. And it's not that I haven't had the opportunity, because I could have made it. I could have made the time to continue writing more and contributing more frequently, but some combination of laziness or intimidation or anxiousness has left this blog post-less (by me) for over two months now. I'm not sure why no one else has posted.

I'm back in Naples for the month of August. A time of respite, regathering, trying to amend somethings, shoring myself up in preparation for going after the world yet again, sooner than later. It all comes in waves, modeling work. And not perfectly timed ones with predictable sets of troughs and crests...that's not my metaphor. The waves I'm talking about aren't predictable. I had tons of work, and then it would be nothing. And so I had tons in May, and a little in June, but July was depleted, and August...well, I'm home. And as always, money plays a role in my mind. Modeling and Money share the same bed.

I've lent my brother oh so much that I began resenting him for something that I should understand all too well since I've been there too. And that gets magnified in my internal and external battle with myself and BAS/C. They owe me a lot of money, and my last paycheck bounced. And the replacement paycheck bounced. And I've cried on the phone, and stuck at a gas station, and alone in my room. I can't imagine how and why it has come to this...on their irresponsibility and my own, for allowing such an accumulation of debt to me. Money problems have brought me more tears and sickness than all my relationships with boys combined. It's that silent shadow behind me, as if the reason I allow myself to get caught up in boys or find myself talking about them is to divert my attention and avoid my pain and frustration and fear and profound doubt. At this point, it's hard for me not to somehow just drop the fact I'm frustrated with getting paid when I talk about modeling. Friends find out my picture is in Seventeen Magazine and People StyleWatch for the campaign. That sort of thing tells them I'm successful, and I can't help but role my eyes to myself in someway, and indicate to them that my life isn't as glamorous as they may picture. Or just let it slip that there is definitely some fucking irony in my life.

I went on vacation to St. Tropez for a week when both my savings and checking accounts were negative. (How do you even have a negative savings account? And that trip saved my ass since I didn't have to spend a penny). In the south of France, I was laughing and dancing and flirting among people that spent more money in one night (not even including the extravagant brunch or dinner) than all my debt from school and work (that has caused soo much stress and pain and tears) combined. What a mind fuck that is. They spend money to impress, I look beautiful likewise.

Boys, I'm going a little crazy. Too many are playing some small role in my life that I'm casually allowing them to fulfill. It's fun, and less emotionally taxing than it's ever been. It won't keep going like this, I mean, it can't. But someone more meaningful will hopefully come out of the pack that I won't be afraid to commit to, that I will want to drop all the others for wholly and effortlessly.

Design, oh design. I'm going to reformat my architecture portfolio while I'm here in Naples. According to Nicole, I don't have enough white space. So I'm going to lengthen the document with Space. It'll take some time, no doubt. I'm hunting down a computer that is capable and willing to handle it (amongst friend's computers....since the ones in my home aren't options.) I'm excited to do this since I've been starved of design.

NOgasm

i'm not sure what i'm going to write, because i'm going into this without a plan, without anything i need to vent. i'm waiting for a text for a plan in an hour and a half. i may nap if i don't end up going anywhere interesting with this soon.

i must mention, i am listening to a song, Pussy Cocaine by Tiger Love. I rather like it. already got my text.

maybe the same thing that prevents me from orgasming was the same thing that prevented me from having any sort of relationship till Dustin. I don't know how to dig into my history to figure this out. does the answer really lie gracefully in my past anyway? I shared the post about frantic sex with the boy who had the frantic sex with me. this is what he wrote in response (we've had sex once after the time i wrote about):

"interesting... the funny thing is that the last time we had sex was probably my favorite. i was feeling a comfort from you. a comfort with yourself and the situation that has not always been there. i think that's a big ingredient for pleasure for both... my intuition doesn't let me enjoy situation fully unless i feel that the other person is on the same level. i have a lot or more detailed opinion on this if you're ever wanna chat. you're a great giver but are you a good receiver???? ;) thanks for sharing!"


the question he posed at the end was a no brainer to me. no. of course i'm not a good receiver. i'm terrible. i don't let go. it's weird to know that i'm holding on, but not know what i'm holding on to? is it because i'm afraid of letting go, like holding onto a cliff and falling off? what would make me afraid to orgasm, if this was the case? or is it like when you don't realize what you're doing or happening, like when i forget to breath during yoga poses or i don't realize that i'm hunching until it's corrected. and no one has walked me through the breath pattern or used their hands to position my shoulders up and back so i know what the right posture feels like. obviously, i know i'm doing something, but in the moment, its not like i can just be like, "ok, here is where you're holding on...this moment, and this moment...''


whats weird is the last time i had sex with this boy, i felt detached. i remember kind of thinking about the lack of intimacy between the two of us. and here he says he thought i was more present. its strange. i don't know what clues my body or face give to make him to feel this way, and how my mind can totally be somewhere else. 


thoughts from friends who have orgasmed? did you ever feel like you couldn't let go?  

a meaningless post.

"I told Chris the other night that Phaedrus spent his entire life pursuing a ghost. That was true. The ghost he pursued was the ghost that underlies all of technology, all of modern science, all of Western thought. It was the ghost of rationality itself. I told Chris that he found the ghost and that when he found it he thrashed it good. I think in a figurative sense that is true.The things I hope to bring to light as we go along are some of the things he uncovered. Now the times are such that others may at least find them of value. No one then would see the ghost that Phaedrus pursued, but I think now that more and more people see it, or get glimpses of it in bad moments, a ghost which called itself rationality but whose appearance is that of incoherence and meaninglessness, which causes the most normal of everyday acts to seem slightly mad because of their irrelevance to anything else. This is the ghost of normal everyday assumptions which declares that the ultimate purpose of life, which is to keep alive, is impossible, but that is the ultimate purpose of life anyway, so that great minds struggle to cure diseases so that people may live longer, but only madmen ask why. One lives longer in order that he may live longer. There is no other purpose. That is what the ghost says."

-from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values, 1974

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Ajna and anjA bring up very valid questions. Surprisingly, my I and me don't have the answers either. Not that you girls were looking for them in Sabrina and anirbaS. But in reading your post, I and me are quite in awe of your self honesty, because I and me aren't quite there. I lie to myself, to me. That I can tell you girls. That I haven't reached a level of self honesty with me that you talk about reaching with your reflection.

And meaning, purpose, doing...the opposite: meaningless, purposelessness, and not doing somehow are the fuel behind the fire, the ying for the yang, i don't know. If everything is meaningful, purposeful, and you are always doing something, what does that mean? how do you know without the opposite?

Maybe my steady stream of meaninglessness jabber is the way I cope with the space between meaningfulness. There is a reason it's a part of me. You, for whatever reason, enjoy my bullshit, we wouldn't have become friends if it didn't exist. I wouldn't write off the little things so quickly Aj and Ja...our happiness (and sadness) lies in the thermal delight of it all.

Me-Time

I love that story Bri, it is the sweetest, it made my day. I wrote this writing months and months ago and it reminded me of “two suns.” Let me know what you think:

Me-Time

I stare into the mirror and say hello. I talk to Me, do you talk to You?

The mirror says hello back. A sweet girl likes to talk in sync with I. I wish you could meet her, she really is very nice. I can tell her anything and she always agrees. Best friend ever. She even feels my pain, literally, I can see it in her face. And when I cry she cries too. It is as if we are on the same word, on the same page, in the same book. I have never felt so close to anyone in my life.

We even decided to merge our wardrobes; we wear the same thing everyday! Me will tell I when something looks bad, like the other day I had tucked my skirt into my panties and Me screamed in laughter! Me will tell I when food is stuck in my teeth, like the other day I had chocolate on my front two teeth and Me screamed in laughter! Me giggles a lot, just like I. Do you have a friend who always tells you the truth in how you appear?

I will tell Me anything. And everything. Me will tell I anything. And everything.

We have long conversations about life. Me usually agrees with I and allows anything that comes to mind to be said, with no judgment. It truly is a blessing, because I have never met anyone that I can say anything to and never have to worry about what they are thinking. I know Me will understand and if she doesn’t, she says right away, and I always agree with her point of view.

Conversing without an ounce of hesitance has truly opened us into a new frequency of exploration. I can tell Me all about life and theories that I have kept secret within the mind, and Me always has more to add. I said that sometimes I get confused why life is so serious if all of us could die in an instant. Me said that making life serious is mankind’s way to fill their mind with the known, so they do not have to think about the unknown. Me then said that changing what you know is the utmost scariest moment that could ever happen to mankind. I told Me that I want that moment. Me told I to never tell anyone that.

I promised Me to never tell anyone. Me promised I to never tell anyone.

I can’t stop thinking about the unknown. I keep wondering why our day is structured strictly to the known. It is as if the unknown does not exist. I asked Me to tell me something that I could not think of. Me said that she could never die. I asked her how. She said that I could smash my mirror and she would be gone temporarily. Yet, I could always find her next door in my bathroom mirror. Or in any mirror, in any reflection, in any surface bouncing with light, or simply in any light. Me said she has seen I check her out in reflections, she takes it as flattery. I take it as embarrassment. She said that I looking at her is an irresistible curiosity that her need for flattery will never shoo away. Me said that I always have her so that I don’t ever have to find someone to hold on to.

Me said that we are taught to look for comfort in others that we can only ever find within ourselves. This is taught to further our aimless quest of not thinking about what we really want. Me said that that the best part of that is that she is everywhere. Me said that that is her gift to I, so that I never have to look far. Invisibly, Me and I are everywhere.

Me said that the reason why I cannot see my face is so that I can find myself in every aspect of the world. Me said that if I could see my face I would be forced to surrender to personal curiosity and instinctual vanity. Me said that there is a reason our eyes face outward and there is a reason why they have lids. Me said that is how she cleared the space in my mind to think of what I want to think of.

I love Me. Me loves I.

I now have space in the mind to think of anything I want to think of. Me asked why I always talk about what I have to do. I said it is because there are certain things I have to get done in a day. Me said that I think too much about what I have to do rather than just doing it. Me then said that I like thinking about what I have to do in a day so I can subconsciously justify my existence. I told Me that she was slightly over reacting. Me told I that she hit a soft spot of truth.

I asked, why I am so obsessed with I do. Me said that most people like the chains of “doing” that hold their mind captive. Me said that I started our conversation with sentence after sentence as to why I did not get everything done in my day. Me said that she never asked and that is was quite boring. Me said that if I had just shut up and understood that there is time for everything (only if I believe in it) – then I could have started our conversation with a smile. Me then asked how many people in my life tell me things that truly do not matter. I told Me – many. Me told I to spend the next day deleting out my “boring talk” of to-dos.

I said nothing all day. Me laughed at I. I freaked out.

All day I had to stop myself from saying useless words. Me said that she has never seen I so silent. I said that she has taken away my will to talk. Me said that not even God could do that because I like the sound of my voice too much. How much time do you spend talking to the mirror she asked.

I laughed. Me laughed. It’s true.

I asked Me if this is dangerous. This whole “I talking to Me” all the time. Me said that the world has made it seem dangerous because everyone is afraid to see his or her own truth. She said that running away is easy, only it is pointless because she is everywhere I go. I asked Me what I am supposed to do in my life.

Me said that I have all the answers. I said Me has all the answers.

Two suns.

The Blue Hit came to New York last night and I went to see them at The Living Room in the Lower East Side. Grace, the singer, lulled me, her voice seduced me into a hypnotic nostalgia about Austin. What followed was satisfying and interesting conversations that carried until outside my door in the Upper West Side where I said goodbye and  to my friend and then declined a man's offer (at 3:30am) to buy a snickers bar from his briefcase.

________________________

I had high, frantic, selfish sex on Monday. My friend asked, or assumed, if it had been desperate. I don't see how I can describe something as frantic and selfish without it too being desperate, but somehow that word has more negative baggage. The sex wasn't negative to me. I feel like I haven't had much of an opinion or stance on the previous sex I've had with this person until this evening. And I found myself more exclusively wrapped up in what made me feel good more than anything else. I still haven't orgasmed, but this doesn't mean that I leave sex unsatisfied.

________________________

I was babysitting a girl this week. In the basement playroom of the building, she was coloring with three other girls. They were all drawing similar pictures, the younger girls mimicking the older ones, except for the youngest girl of all. She was oblivious to this big sister cycle. She drew two suns in her picture and giggled about it, pointing out how silly it was. One of the older girls looked at the picture and said that it was beautiful, and that it wasn't silly at all. In a reflection off water, there is always a second sun.

Takeout Menu

this is a blog post I wrote a while ago, and never finished. But upon rereading it, I don't think it needs to be more. It captures something comical and desperate about my life :)
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I've been thinking about life a lot lately. That sound's kind of lame, but I don't have another way to put it. It is kind of lame, actually. But when you have free time, you have free time to contemplate.

It's the same for me. I think about food all the time. I go to bed reading takeout menus and anticipate my next meal. For example, on the train ride home tonight, I couldn't decide whether I wanted a cookie or taco truck. I kept going back and forth in my head, trying to remember where I could possibly get a good cookie at 11pm in the four blocks between the subway stop and my house. Or did I want a tamale? What was I craving, savory or sweet? 

I ended up browsing cookies, sampling cookie frozen yogurt, and settling on a sweet tamale in those four blocks. I forgot about the gourmet 24 hour super market across the street from me. They probably would have had my cookie. 

What even is a sweet tamale? I wasn't sure, but anything with the word tamale I automatically love. This one had sugar mixed into the masa along with the occasional raisin, and bright pink/red food coloring along the side. 

Next, I spent my shower thinking about what I could have for breakfast and then even for lunch. My train of thought arose out of knowing where my casting would be, my need to stop into my agency, my need to do government homework, and my need to not spend much money. Where could I work in the area that had good cheap food? I'd rather eat where I could work, so I wouldn't have to spend money on food and also on a tea or coffee too if I could help it. One or the other. But I get through all of that in 0.2 seconds and then just think and think of the possibilities of consumption.  

I was so full in the shower though. My belly was adorably swollen with satisfaction. Why am I non-stop thinking about more food when I'm not hungry at all? 

Strangely enough for me, I think part of it is because I had been wearing tights and had just eaten, both of which heighten my awareness of my stomach, internally and externally (since the tights are, well, very tight). So I think just being aware of my fullness triggers my food thought. 

Pondi

Dearest Bri,

I love your post. And I apologize for being so tardy in responding to it – I am in my own world and did not even realize how long it’s been – yet I re-read it and am truly delighted at your own little epiphany!

I hope all is well with you and the modeling and the food and the New York scene. I miss New York terribly, I want to run across the country and kiss it’s concrete and promise I will never leave it again. Then I want to plant myself in Momofuku and eat pork buns & noodle bowls till my button pops. And then I want to run into Stella Adler (wearing all black) and jump into the Shakespeare class and pretend I am an Adler in training. I want to run into the subway so I can listen to Glee on my ipod and read Ayn Rand and have nothing, but my own little mind to keep me satisfied on that shifting box that makes me so happy that I do not need a car. Then I want to find the perfect man, my Romeo, and fall in love. HA.

I’m in day dream land – la la la – la la la. I auditioned at schools, and now I am that neurotic devoted actress who has chained herself to my e-mail and thrown the key away so I can count the seconds till I hear from a school. I have yet to hear, but I think this is the week that they send out e-mails…..AHHHHHHH. I might pee my pants…..or I might just faint….or do both? Dear God, Ajna.

My dearest mom is opening her new restaurant: Pondicheri. Isn’t that not the cutest name? We call it “Pondi” for short. It is incredibly exciting, this opening and doing up the restaurant and all the froufrou that comes with opening your own business. Only difference is that I have decided not to be a part of helping my mom, except emotionally of course. I took a stand for myself and said I do not want to work for you or for dad. They both look at me like I’m a foolish trustfund child – but, I say why not?

It’s been quite the feat standing on my own two feet without helping with Indika or Pondicheri. I feel like “restaurants” have been my drug, like every time I helped the restaurant my parents would love me more and I would feel like I have justified my existence. Truth is that I want to act, and the more insecure I allow myself to be the more I give to the restaurant so I have a wonderful excuse to not act. Funny how the mind works, good thing I am perpetual thinker and know my own sabotage strategies. Therefore, I set up the defense and am now at home (jobless, schoolless – for the moment, friendless, everythingless except for a burning desire to step on a stage) baking Irish-style Soda bread from a cook book my mom has been dying to try so that my mom has something to eat in the morning because I am subconsciously so guilty for not being at Pondicheri helping her.

Other than all the above, Netflix has become quite the friend in need. She is always there and she always knows what I need to see and the best part is that she allows me to be needy. I can call her anytime of the day or night and she is as bright as can be. We watched Dancer in the Dark – goodness, Bjork tore my heart out and sent me into one of my world famous four hour naps. I do love you, Netflix.

I’m still training with my coach, which is going well and taking voice classes, which is going well. I’m in a limbo where I cannot really complain about my life. I think it might be time for me to go to Austin though, it always refreshes me and reminds me why I am where I am. Only thing is that I do not know if I can handle seeing all the archies just yet – despite my inferno of love for every single one of them – I might just want to cuddle with Alana and be college –y.

Ummmm….now that I have successfully rambled about pretty much nada, I think I should leave this post be and with a big KISS to B&V.

Heart Shaped Donut

Last night I had the biggest grin on my face as I walked home from the subway stop eating my heart shaped dunkin donut. It's the one in the picture with light pink frosting and heart sprinkles...and it has a white filling inside too...and it was fresh from however they are made...and it was FREE. Obviously, I was eating my heart out. I didn't think I was still drunk, but looking back, I must have been. I started out at happy hour with wine, chocolate stout beer, a salty dog, a grey dog, and saki. Oh boy. When I got home, I had a couple more nibbles of things and then curled up in bed listening to tracy chapman with my vibrator. Again, thought I was handling things sober, but looking back, and feeling the way I'm feeling now, I have a new perspective on it. Lol.

Anyway, I woke up early this morning, surprisingly early for going to bed so late (4am-bedtime; 8:30am-wakeup) and have made some observations about myself, or decisions, or something. Basically, I think that my two new friends I hang out with all the time, Christina and Holly, are probably not the best people I should be hanging around all the time. And two, I'm challenging myself to not talk about food or watch tv about food for two days. This is the only place I'm writing this or declaring it.

It isn't out of some sort of guilt from yesterday, I don't feel guilty about eating a late night donut and shouldn't. In my head it was this sort of declaration and I felt soo fucking good about it and free and liberated, like I was turning a new leaf. And I need to, I'm spending my time worrying about things a little too much and now I feel like I'm worrying about worrying haha, but the point is, I guess I'm just making an effort to step back away from my own little world of 'shoulds' and make a genuine effort to appreciate and feel good about myself.

I've been drinking more which I don't mind, but I think that it's not going to progress my modeling or school. I love holly, but she's going out more than I want to be and last night I found myself with people I don't particularly care for, which makes me a bitch....funny how that works. And then as much as i adore Christina, her own self-image is shitty and I don't think she means to at all, but she's sort of brought me down sometimes...and I'm just now realizing that. Which sucks, because I really like her, but I can't fix her lack of self esteem and it's not the healthiest thing for me.

And food. Oh, food. I'm just unsafely obsessed. It's as if all I do is put you in my mouth and then you come right back out in words. A cycle, really. And honestly I'm coming to realize that it bores people. At first it could be slightly endearing, but then I think that it just crosses the line and gets to be over the top for everyone, and it's funny how this is like an epiphany for me or something...just the idea that people might not want to hear all the juicy details of everything i've eaten and wanted to eat. ha.

ha.

Anyway, my goal isn't to skirt food all together or ignore it...that would be impossible. But i just don't need to unnecessarily elaborate on it. Just go with wherever to eat if I make a plan for dinner or lunch...no debates. And then when it comes to the menu, same thing, no scrutiny, no attempting to read every nitty gritty detail and then imagine it all and debate all the possible outcomes...just glance and go. I used to do that...i remember a time that i'd just ask if they had what i wanted without even looking at the menu. it was a non-issue. wow.

so here it is. i'm going to test run these two days and see how they go with every intention of extending them.

Walking Away

I just realized, right now, that I've been attempting (somewhat subconsciously) to runaway from my problems here in New York. The first being my apartment drama, which has cooled down somewhat, but still makes me quietly want to just slip out...but I don't have that amazing downtown replacement apartment lined up yet!

The other is, I'm terrified for fashion week! Like, I'm intimidated beyond belief. That's why I've been pushing for Asia so much and wanted to leave, not because I don't want to make money, but because I'm scared I won't!

Stupid, stupid girl. I'd rather go half way around the world rather than put myself out there. THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DO! NYC FASHION WEEK! FUCK ME. So this all hit me soooo hard when I couldn't sleep. I woke up yesterday and watched Valentino: The Last Emperor and went to bed watching Picture Me, a video diary/documentary by this model Sara Ziff, who was kind of a big fucking deal. She was in the circles and doing the things I wanted to be doing. And I'm scared I can't because I wasn't scouted at 12 and didn't get big when I was 18 so now, at 22, (she was 23 by the end of the documentary) I don't have 5 hardcore and 6 softcore years of modeling behind me. I have basically a year of experience and almost 23. But no one has to know. This is my first season in NY, so I'll say that. And I think I'll be 19 and pretend I'm not graduating with a degree in Architecture, if I'm so fucking worried that i'm too old for these people.

And I sent an email to my booker saying I want to go over my walk. Girls aren't born with good walks, they are taught. And big agencies bring in catwalk coaches to show them what to do, and that's how they know. So I couldn't sleep last night getting all worried that I didn't know how to walk and stayed up late watching how-to videos and stupid shit...and so this morning, i'm deciding to not be intimidated. to just practice and do everything in my power to work on what i have control over and do the best that i fucking can. i know i'll work and get booked for some stuff...and everything in this business happens like dominos.

phew, i'm glad i've finally faced the music..to myself...instead of just saying i don't care about fashion week and want to go to asia. i do care, and i want to do it and want to be good at it.

hello

I'm sitting in my bed with Nishiel as she reads a book on astrology out-loud. Aries are crazy mother fuckers - yea, you and me Bri - CRAY CRAY. I miss you and V. You're posts make me giggle. This is my shortest post ever - just wanted you to know your words are delectable and are deliciously digestable in me tummy. LOVE you!

p.s. SO lovely to see you V this New Year's Eve - it was amazing.

Home Sweet Home

that's the name of a bar my friend Kelsey always goes to in the LES. She's mentioned it a lot, and I can never remember the name. I always thought it had Alabama something. My reasoning makes sense and made us laugh about it.

35-46 Crescent Street, Astoria, NY, also, (strangely enough) has that same name to me. And to my (I love how Valerie uses this word!) flatmates, Valerie and Cris. And to (oh dear!) bedbugs. Ewww.

Let's stop talking about them. Oh, wait, lets stop living with them (it's been a month...second extermination is scheduled for January 14th). I have enough flatmates, thank you bedbugs. And I enjoy Valerie's company just as much as you do...I just choose not to snuggle up and nibble her neck and cheeks out of affection.

Home Sweet Home has been crawling with drama. Between our Brazilian lease holder abroad in Israel and our Muslim landlord who doesn't approve of Israel or turning on the heat, to our loud and (sadly) selfish other Brazilian. And did I mention the bedbugs? Yes, I believe so. They have their own room to themselves. It's the freezing cold (Thank you Landloard Amhed!) room in the back of the apartment. And then there is me and Valerie. We talk a lot. She has this incredible accent from god knows where since she's lived all over and speaks everything...but I love it. I love the way she talks and I find myself trying to talk like her when I talk with her. It's soo cool.

We talk about food. Well, I started that one and believe she is slowly getting hooked on the cooking channel. It's always on. And we talk about movies and tv since she's a producer. And we are just so dainty in our agreements and being frustrated with the ridiculous bedbuglicious hot & cold rip-off drama of the home. And we are, day after day, both in Home Sweet Home, pretty much all day. She works from home. I watch things and cook impatiently in Home Sweet Home waiting for life to start again.

How do I walk in high heels again? earning money? what money? what modeling?

MY KAKA

I want to write this down because it was too funny to never be written down, even if it is late.

I was talking to Ajna on the phone a while ago, and took a pebble/popcorn shit at the same time. It wasn't messy or anything, so I didn't need a lot of toilet paper or anything. (This detail may seem tmi, but is necessary for later.) Well, the whole thing didn't flush and I had tea screaming at me in the kitchen. So I put the lid down on the toilet and made a note to myself to go back and flush again in a few minutes, after the toilet bowl had refilled. Of coarse, I forgot.

My new roommate from Japan, Kaori, went into the bathroom. I didn't think anything of it. She then quietly sought out Monica, our other roommate because she was having problems in the bathroom. The toilet was flooding. Monica and Kaori go to the bathroom together so Monica and check out the problem, since she's the lease holder and the one that would know where the plunger is, or if we had one.

At this point I realize what's going on and that I had left my shit in the toilet. So Kaori must have gone to the bathroom, seen my shit, and preflushed. And for whatever reason (not me clogging it! I swear or I'd easily admit it!) the toilet started flooding. The toilet lid was down.

I tell Monica that I had left my shit in the toilet before Kaori and that I think poor Kaori tried to preflush and must be so embarrassed because we'd think it's her shit in the flooding toilet. Water is overflowing at this point onto the floor.

I open the lid to find my shit, after all, this is definitely my problem and I don't feel guilty, just bad that Kaori was so mortified about it when it was me. I couldn't stop laughing. But there was no poop! Monica and I scan the floor if it had fallen out...but there was no pebble pooop to be found!

I turn to Kaori and ask her where my shit had gone. That I know there was shit, because it was mine. Well, she threw it away. In the trash. The thing is, Kaori isn't totally fluent in English, she's still learning. So she demonstrates her action of woosh!, gently and swiftly tossing the little poop into the trash. Only a few key words are spoken, like 'trash.'

Oh My God. OH MY GOD! My poor foreign roommate threw away my shit! She was so self-conscious about Monica thinking it was her shit, that she threw it away in the trash!

I couldn't stop laughing, in my silent choking way. I actually slid to the ground laughing, in the bathroom, in the overflowing toilet water. I couldn't stop. Monica is still piecing together the whole story too since English isn't her first language either (she's Brazilian).

So there the three of us are. Monica and Kaori kind of confused and worried about the overflowing toilet...and me, laughing my ass off on the floor of the little bathroom. They started laughing too, delayed, once they were able to straighten out the story with each other and the details with me.

"So where's the poop Kaori? Sabrina said that she did kaka in the toilet and left it here. Sabrina, why would you leave your kaka in the toilet?".....(my broken explanation)..."I, I didn't want you think mine...so trash."

I got up and out of the bathroom when Monica notified the landlord and he came up with a plunger and stopped the flooding.

After a month of Monica and I living together, we definitely broke the ice for the first time, in terms of comfort. Soft spoken, disciplined Kaori did on her second day.

We drunkenly recalled the episode over our family, international thanksgiving feast. Kaori, in still-broken-but-much-improved English confessed she did it with her bare hand. She said it was so little, and not messy or smelly.

Voicemail!

The best part of my new years was waking up to six missed calls and two voicemails from Ajna, Alana, and Cait I woke this morning.

I babysat for the editor of Glamour last night. I spent the night savoring super good chicken tortilla soup and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. I then got ready to go out after they got home at 1am. I didn't end up going out though, so I came home. And watched episodes of The Office till I fell asleep.

My dad would have been 66 today.