1. SWEET nike football tvc by guy ritchie. “I wish I was that guy”.. brilliant.

2. Something about JayZ singing Wonderwall is hot (thanks E).

3. Holy crayola, remember this? Kinda creepy watching it now, especially the old smiley granny. My god. But I remember like yesterday a time when I found it absolutely mesmerizing.

4. I want this children’s book.

why does the dog still follow me around??????

journalist and interviewee usually start off by mistrusting each other. there’s the inevitable minute or so of awkward, polite conversation when the questions are over-rehearsed and the answers are dull. but if you’re lucky, after awhile the interview transforms into something like an intimate conversation and makes this masochistic job all worthwhile

i just had such a moment. this week i’m writing about- godhelpme -weddings. so this morning i interviewed a very liberal local woman who defied her parents’ wishes for her wedding day and practically eloped in Hawaii. 8 years later, she sounds genuinely happy over her wedding, even happier over her husband. when she found out i was still unmarried, she dished out the advice like a wiser, kinder female friend. her rule of rules is more quoteworthy than anything in the upcoming piece: find someone who loves you for you, everything else is secondary. i think she was to fobby to have seen juno.

Trip to Sing was productive. Found closure on a major front, reconnected with good, nurturing people, caught a glimpse of the coolest cover band I know. Told everyone who asked (everyone) things were fine at home. Which was how I left HK and into 4 lovely, carefree days.

Then I return to Hongkers and to a store of problems they’d been saving for my return. L, for instance, creeps up to me and tries to lure me into gossiping about M and N. Then my M comes home, corners me with her own depressive talk and asks me to fix things she feels helpless to fix (all her family relationships). My D is doing god knows what but I can’t bring myself to seek his advice on people who currently hate him.

Usually at moments like this, moments where I feel something I define as ‘despair’, I reach out to someone I shouldn’t. Or I eat, I drink/smoke, blast music, chat, watch E!, freelance, withdraw to my room (please, refrain from giving me advice right now).

I’m trying not to let this kill my own ability to love and hope, but it’s so hard doing this alone. Especially when D’s gone, especially when almost everyone I know has someone else to whisper and giggle with, especially when I just found necessary closure with my one emotional crutch. The scariest part is thinking I might turn into someone who doesn’t tear up every time I watch Dan In Real Life. Fortunately, that hasn’t happened yet.

Wired’s cover story last month is a great, if logically flawed (and irresponsibly written-ha), green piece. I’ve never seen anyone attempt to prioritize among a laundry list of virtuous acts for the environment (usually daunting enough put off any concerned-but-lazy reader).

In a nutshell, they argue that if you only have the time and money to do one good thing for the environment, it’s to reduce your carbon emissions.

Then it debunks some of those seemingly eco-friendly  products (probably marketed by the same folks who sold you GE air-conditioners and Hummers).. like carbon credits (’who’s to say the new tree you planted in Brazil doesn’t get cut down before it absorbs anything’), signing the Kyoto Protocol (they claim it’ll only delay temperature rising by 6.5 days), going organic (less efficient and not helping our food shortage), or even buying a hybrid (a 1994 Geo Metro uses less energy to make than a hybrid offsets). Greenie’s are cool, informed greenies are cooler.

i love.

<dog-hating post has been deleted by owner, who came face to face with her conscience in the form of two huge doe eyes. damnit!>

–

Speaking of heretics, a friend and I were talking about spirituality yesterday. He practices an adapted form of Christianity, which I suppose most Christians do. Anyway, one thing he said struck me: it’s human nature to believe in a higher order.

Now, I used to love dogging on Christians (though really I was dogging on evangelists and Republicans) and avoided the spiritual section of Borders like the plague, but now I think he’s right. In times of unusual despair and fear, I’ve found myself getting over my ego and breathing little prayers to my non-God God. Immediate relief. I still think praying is a euphemism for Talking To Yourself, but if it makes you feel a tad better for that split second, who cares. I’ll be saying one tomorrow morning too.

My emotional state (pained) finally surfaced into my throat and chest. It’s Monday, it’s the first clear blue day I’ve seen in HK in months, and I’m a dark, dark cloud (in bed with lots of water).

Lately I’ve hit a wall again. After weeks spent fostering inner calm and self-love, I’ve kinda descended into the opposite direction. I’m not as okay about my dad moving out as I thought I’d be, and I feel very, very alone at home. Alone and disgusted with myself. I mean, I’m relieved that everyone else here seems okay but it’s so tough without the one family member who, I felt, understood and accepted me whole. So tough. Here come the waterworks again.

OK, turned off. I know better days await me.

i’ve been quiet lately, which usually means i’m happy. i am. stupidly. walking around half-smiling for no particular reason (ie. not boy-related) and actually smiling at all the repulsive, sour-puss faces i pass by and i’m just going to let myself admit i’m happy fornoparticularreason until the roof falls again and then maybe i’ll write more.

well, fine, there are some reasons: paolo nutini, mika’s grace kelly, india arie’s heart of the matter (the SATC movie theme song), eddie izzard’s death star canteen and the first 25 pages of a fine balance. and soon, mother’s choice.

“slowly, slowly”

“Don’t tell your Dad”

“Don’t tell the maid”

“Your grandma never knew about grandpa’s…”

“Please don’t tell m’am”

“Did he say anything to you about regretting?”

“Why did s/he do/say/think that?”

“Be nicer to her.”

“Why can’t you live here? What have we done wrong?”

“Pray, sara, pray.”

Fuck the older generation.