1 day left

I have barely begun packing. Part of me can't grasp that I'm leaving. I found my old packing list from when I went to Cambridge, and I'm using that to help me pack. I'm taking basically more than a week's worth of clothing, three pairs of shoes, a load of my electronics (cam, vid cam, laptop, batt charger), and toiletries. I did a lot of stuff today and yesterday though to get me ready:

--I got traveler's checks at AAA. They don't charge a percentage if you're a member.
--Laundry.
--Bought my fave health products that I'm not sure they'll have in Paris and laptop sleeve (Fry's is the ultimate nerd heaven).
--Cleaned my computer and backed up some files.
--Did various stuffs at the bank.

Recieved two mixed cds from my friend Noriko. They're amazing, and she is truly an artist when it comes to making mixed cds. Thanks Noriko!

Today, dinner with the fam. Lovely, lovely. Dad marinated steak. Mom steamed green beans that were picked fresh from our backyard. Kuya opened a bottle of French red wine. I set the table and served the rice. We ate in our backyard--it was nice outside, and our AC isn't working. I said grace, and Dad told stories about his days in Spain.

Spent time with Kuya since he's leaving for Seattle tomorrow. We went to some guy so he could buy billiard cues. We're seeing Superbad tonight. I'm really going to miss him because we share the same bizarre sense of humor that I don't have with anyone else. And he's my brother, come on! He might visit in the winter. He loves watches, so when he visits we might go to Switzerland.

I'll pack tomorrow, make copies of my passport and itinerary for the parentals, and finish tying up loose ends.

it's not all fun and games

It's hard to ignore the fact that bad things can happen. Not all trips are safe, end happily. There are bad people around who will hurt you for your money or other things. My uncle's friend who visited Spain was put into a chokehold until she was unconscious while they took her purse and money belt. She was walking down a strange dark alley at night. Anything can happen, but it's up to me to be on my guard and not do anything stupid.

Today, Dad was giving me his talk about protecting myself. I'm pretty cautious, and it takes me a while to trust people, but I've got to be on my guard abroad all the time. It's like a switch that must be on 24/7. It's fun when I turn it into a mind game, the kind of thing assassins or spies would train for. Looking for exits, checking if you're being followed. I've carried a knife with me ever since my Dad gave it to me when I turned 17. Having an older brother who could surprise tickle me or put me in a fake chokehold has quickened my reflexes. I could scream loudly if I really wanted to, and my karate teacher once told me that he liked the way I delivered a kick. I have all these things, but still. Dad says, "If anything happens...go for the kill." A scary quote, but I will do what I have to do to save my life or the lives of others.

I'm not going to lie and tell you that I love being a woman all the time. Sometimes I really don't. Guys have it easier. I hate being the prey. I hate the automatic assumptions. From what I learned about working on film shoots (where the majority of people on the crew are males), I'm my role first (whether it be assistant camera or director), and I'm a girl second. My sex has nothing to do with my job. My ability, my knowledge is sexless. I have a slogan at Gungirl Productions--my production company with my friend--and that's "Don't let your boobs get in the way of your filmmaking". Once you bring your gender into it, you lose everything. Let's stop arguing and make this film. Okay, enough about gender roles. I ramble.

All I'm saying is that everyone who travels has to be careful and not stupid and always aware. Girls, carry pepper spray, get your own drinks, and stay with friends. Guys, don't be stupid assholes and drink too much.

lists are good

Things that are funny to me:

--Mom at Costco throwing a brick of cheddar cheese into the shopping cart
--Dad arguing about how we don't need so much cheese and who's going to eat it
--Me screaming when Kuya almost hit a pigeon with my car
--The line for food at Costco
--That ridiculous kiss in Spider-Man when MJ is kissing the upside-down Peter Parker

I am unbearably happy. I have reasons to be unbearably happy:

--I can't stop thinking about funny people and things I love and will miss.
--Because a lovely boy took a bus from SF to see me before I go.
--Because I'm leaving in a couple of days.

I can't sleep, and I wake up early. This excitement is killer! Also, I've been waking up wanting to vomit. Is it excitement or nervousness? Both?! In high school, I always vomited right before an essay test in my AP English class because I was nervous. We knew what we had to study, but he never gave us a prompt. It was also excitement too, all that literature running through my head. All I could think was, "What's my teacher going to ask of me? What can I tell him that's never been told before? What will I do to stand out of all these other essays? How can I make my essay amazing?" I guess this is the same thing. What's going to be asked of me? How can I make this trip amazing?

J.D salinger wrote that writers only get asked two questions when they die: "Were your stars out? Were you busy writing your heart out?" That's the only kind of writing (and living) I want to do.

post 23: or one is the loneliest number

I've always liked the number 23. Always felt that it was a good luck number. I was born on the 23rd. And this is my 23rd post.

So it's my last week here. Sad but true. Actually, I'm not really sad anymore, at least I'm trying not to be. I know being sad would help my art, writing and film, but it definitely won't help me leave. I've been given a great opportunity to leave things and people familiar, and I can be sad and mope or I can take advantage.

I've learned a lot of things about myself this past summer and actually this past week. I know what I want. I've always known what I want but sometimes the list gets bigger or things are clarified. I know what I don't want. I've never thought that I'd have to make a list for that, but now there's a list. I know that I was meant to do this alone and that being alone will be good for me for a while. This trip is not about finding answers but more about the journey towards these answers (oh my God, may I interject because "one" by aimmee mann just came on my itunes, how appropriate?). But you don't need to know the questions. I am complete by myself. I've needed that foremost before anything. Before starting a real career, before having a boyfriend. I can't start these things when I'm incomplete. I can't look towards these things to complete me. No one should. One is the loneliest number. Mom was right, I am a loner just like my father.

nothing important happened today

It's been hectic the last couple of days, but I've been getting a lot done. It's really hot here though, which is nice compared to the cold, foggy SF summer. I've been working on my tan.

Some friends from SF came down, and we met at Universal Studios. They ended up leaving late, and I was early, so I had an hour to myself to enjoy some coffee and do some people watching on the Citywalk. When we did get in we got drenched on Jurassic Park and dried off in the Backdraft attraction. All in all a good time.

Hung out with Kuya in his lovely home in the valley (San Fernando Valley). It was super hot there, so we just watched his Tivo-ed episodes of Entourage and Go, which isn't too bad of a movie. And Timothy Olyphant is pretty hot.

Did some errands for Grandma. Saw my optometrist. Bought my International Student Identity Card, which will be good for discounts here and abroad. Right now, I'm organizing my address book and gathering addresses so that I can send people postcards from abroad. It's such a bugger filling out my address book.

summer reflection

This is a lengthy post. Written somewhere's between 1:30 am and now. Beware. It's also a bit telling, and I was wary about posting it, but it did make a serious impact on my summer and me as a person, so read on and enjoy, dear friends.

Wow. What a summer. The posts on this blog don't even sum up or totally describe what this summer has meant to me. Or me to this summer. If that's possible, and I think it is.

Firstly, I turned 21, which is the all-American turning point. I can drink. I can gamble. Wow, all vices. Anyway, it was a turning point, and I didn't think it would be. I did sort of save myself, and I rarely drank before 21. There was just one occasion since C. turned 21 months before I did, and I wanted to drink then, but that was probably it.

But the major thing, the HUGE thing, and it will seem so little and so trivial to you, but let me let you in on it first and then explain. Here it is, the major act that I did that is totally not part of my normal behavior is...I told a boy I liked him. That I had a crush on him for the past year.

Okay, okay, okay. Small, I know, just that first part. And in this day, and at my age, I even agree. 12 year olds tell other 12 year olds they like each other. The "past year" part though adds a punch, I think. And the fact that I'm 21, and that this is the first time ever I told a boy I liked him.

The thing is...I am old-fashioned. My aunt once referred to me as the "nun". I like letting fate, or destiny, intervene i.e. do the work. I believed, in my heart of hearts, that if something was meant to happen, it would happen, and it would not be because I made a daring choice or set myself up for hurt or took a chance. No, I didn't like taking chances. I didn't like getting hurt. I didn't like trying things knowing that one of the two outcomes would be me not getting where I wanted to be. And that meant missing out on a lot of things. Remember, this is the girl who wouldn't go outside through a crowd of people to get a plate of meatballs (see post titled "the meatball story") unless there was some sort of prize in the end. This is that girl.

You have no idea how crippling this kind of mentality is. This has been my past adolescence. And a good part of my college years. Because it's so easy, and nice, and comfortable to be shy and not say what I really feel and then just go blog or write about it somewhere and let that be my outlet. It was so easy. But this isn't a way to live.

I have books of my reported shyness. I have a blog somewhere on the internet (that you will never find, hopefully) about my first 2 years of college in which my pen name was Prufrock*(see footnotes). I had loyal readers who begged me, urged me, to change. I didn't. I mean, I thought I did, but I really didn't. The blog got a bit depressing, and I moved on.

So you see, it's not small. It's not miniscule, telling a boy I liked him. Not to me. A regular "normal" girl might have done it at least once before hitting 21. I am clearly not normal, and this was clearly a turning point. Even more so than my 21st birthday**. And it really changed everything. This crush became more of burden with each month that went by that I didn't tell him. And it would go away and then come back, and ugh, what a mess. But finally letting him know...that felt so good. I had reasoned in my head that it wouldn't even matter what he felt about me, whether he'd like me back or not. It would just be better to tell him, to rid myself of this shyness in one simple act. I, as I like to call it, "set myself up for hurt" (because not being shy always ends negatively to me, hence the "hurt") but at least it would be done. And even if it did hurt, it would be temporary. I seriously figured he didn't feel the same way about me, but at least I said it, got it out before I left for Paris, and maybe I can start new.

I did it though. Finally, finally. And you know the nice thing about taking a chance is, about telling someone you like him? I found out that he likes me too.

What have I been missing all these years? Argh. What a Prufrock I am.

FOOTNOTES
* T.S. Eliot's patron saint of shyness and not taking chances. Read his "Love Song for J. Alfred Prufrock"
**Actually turning 21 did help and give it some edge as I did tell said boy how I felt about him the day after I turned 21.

je ne dors pas

I can't sleep. It's 1:13 in the morning, and I just had a lovely day at Universal Studios with friends, and I can't sleep. How unlikely is that? It makes sense though. I'm less than two weeks away.

I just can't stop thinking about how horribly bad my French is, how crazy it's going to be when I get there, and all the people I'm leaving behind. It's insane to grasp. I once equated leaving with dying. I mean, I'm saying goodbye to all these people I care about, I'm doing things I'm going to miss, and I'm going somewhere very far away...At least I can be visited. At least it's not actually death. God, I'm rambling, please forgive me, but it is 1 am.