Category Archives: Friends

I have no direction here, stop whereever you want.

I’ve finally settled back into the routine, though I chose to abstain from shenanigans this weekend, which came as a surprise to even myself. During my last week in China, I had a major emo moment with Janelle [via bbm thankgod] re: my experiment with running away from humanity [ok, don’t take it literally, I’m not making a subversive comment on Chinese and Korean people and their exclusion from humanity.]. Yet after a handful of the requisite “I’ve missed you so and tell me all about your trips” mini reunions, I am looking for a break again. So I took the night off to write and watch “Up in the Air” for the 3rd time in as many months [yes, really]. The movie touches me in so many places; I don’t even know where to start.

I’ve been feeling uneasy all week, for a number of reasons, not all of which can be divulged here. But the mixture of jetlag and lingering cold is doing nothing for my insomniac tendencies. Tossing and turning until the wee hours of the morning makes me more neurotic than usual.

The thing is, I’m not sure what I need right now. I guess it’s just a weird time in life? I just paid my deposit for a seat at L-School, which means this blog may soon turn into a giant snoozefest. I had all these grand epiphanies when I was away – a combination of being on my own a lot and having too much time to think and being in a new place always makes me all introspective about where I am and shit [figuratively and literally]. Whenever I visit a city, I get all curious about history on a much more significant way than I would ever think about New York. I don’t ever think about the fact that I am in New York, like how I think about my place in this other city

So, maybe a brief recap?



A rant

I hate it when…

Someone tries to approach me/befriend me based on a supposed common interest when it’s really just based on my interest. Or maybe, I’m dismissive of other people having that interest if they don’t know as much or just suck at having the interest.

Ok, more specifically, I guess I’m speaking of fashion, which is most common.

I’m really not a snob about fashion. I have friends who don’t care about fashion and just wear what they think look good on them and while I don’t always agree, I’m also not friends with them because I can talk about Helmut Lang with them for hours at a time. It’s really not that serious. You don’t have to like fashion or even care, shit, most of the time, I don’t care. When you don’t know jack shit about it and want to talk to me about it, though, for the sake of talking, it doesn’t flatter me that you’re trying to talk to me, I’m annoyed and that’s when I’d judge you and that judgment is excessively judgey. Like, when you say you like Anna Sui and think that that’s a jumping off point for us to conversate, you don’t care or know whatever you’re saying. Be yourself, like what you like, yo.

There’s this broad at school who approached me because she saw that I’m into clothes/shopping, so she figured we’d get along. I mean, fair, but she likes shopping the way all women like shopping. It’s mostly mindless, sequined/pretty shit that’s uninformed and has no perspective. Not that I’m super pared down or edited, but a general interest in clothing doesn’t do a damn thing for me in terms of a camaraderie. Don’t ask me to go shopping for a cocktail dress, I will be bored to death looking at frilly and pointless embellishments and will hate you forever and ever. We don’t have a common interest in that. If you don’t have anything else to say, you might wonder if you have anything else to offer or if you think that’s all there is to me, then should you really want to know me? It is ok, dawg. Trust me, fashion is not known to forge strong friendships. This is why I couldn’t even deal with the fashion club (YEAH I KNOW IMAGINE?). Mindless consumption and not having taste. I just can’t. I mean, it’s like someone approaching a music snob and saying, I love music, don’t you just love that song about the G6? I mean, really. Get out of my face.

Social media

Sometimes I hate the nature of social media and its effect on social etiquette. I mean, I love it sometimes. But sometimes, like right now, when I want to write about certain friends of mine who are triflin’, self-unaware, hypocritical dickwads, I can’t maintain enough anonymity to adequately have cathartic release. This is the real malaise of the 21st century adult who still maintains the lines of old fashioned 20th century propriety ascribed to certain behavior that others no longer subscribe to. I can’t even send some subliminal cryptic message, because that is not my style. It’s the catch-22 of blogging, you want your audience, but the growth of your audience sometimes limits your content. Or should I not give a fuck, blog about it and come off as passive aggressive? Because it’s not an issue worthy of person to person confrontation and I really just want to rant.

This plus the exposure Twitter is providing on the wretched personality and pitiful stupidity of others that makes me want to scream STFU everytime Ubersocial’s mute function expires on a particular “friend”.

So if the Devil wear Prada, Adam, Eve wear Nada

1. Do you enjoy the recent increase in posts? I feel like I might as well have a tumblr sometimes since pitching Rih Rih against Charli doesn’t exactly do justice to the kind of blogs that WordPress is supposed to maintain. And I increasingly feel like sharing less on fb and more random bits on my blog, because I am friends with real people on fb now. People who are in law school and are more serious than I am, and I need to therefore be more PC, etc. My humor can be obnoxious to other people, just because they’re not always kosher. Sharing on a blog filters out people who might not want to see it, since you’d have to seek it out. I’m so considerate sometimes I feel like Mother Theresa. And Tumblr is a much more friendly platform for that kind of sharing. Also, as I started blogging more, I toyed around with the idea of a more focused blog so as to earn more consistent readers, like, only about fashun, but then I realized that I would not be able to take myself seriously if I did that.

2. As you may know, the CFDA and Fordham Law established a Fashion Law Institute, I sat awkwardly in the audience when Madame Von Furstenberg lauded Fordham warm regard and support of the fashion industry and its struggling designers. Well, the fashion club (Couture Counselor), in conjunction with the Fashion Law Institute will be holding the first event on Wednesday, in which, we will be learning about the art of drafting a “licensing agreement”. I got the workshop materials the other day. The fact pattern is for the licensing of the name of a female celebrity to produce a line of “party” dresses, tops, jewelry, shoes, handbags and eventually perfume. Seriously. Can you reconcile the supposed end goal with that? I mean, I had an idea how naive and idealist my initial hopes for fashion law were, but this is kind of cruel.

3. I love any individual with a genuine albeit effed up point of view way more than someone who is so vested in the politically correct that it’s become their actual value system (or those who just feign PC-ness without genuine conviction). Way better, if only because it’s more interesting. A little irreverence goes a long way. What does that say about me? Nothing, don’t read too deep into it, I’m much too vapid. By the way, I knew a guy like that. He used to read this blog, because he “liked” me (the idea of me, being this better than you broad like he’s a better than you dude, except it was all in his head.), not because he liked the blog. Obviously, we no longer speak.


For the moment my desire to be loved is enough to spur me to action. I want to be loved despite my faults. It isn’t exactly true that I’m a provocateur. A real provocateur is someone who says things he doesn’t think, just to shock. I try to say what I think. And when I sense that what I think is going to cause displeasure, I rush to say it with real enthusiasm. And deep down, I want to be loved despite that.


What is your definition of a Romantic?


It’s someone who believes in unlimited happiness, which is eternal and possible right away. Belief in love. Also belief in the soul, which is strangely persistent in me, even though I never stop saying the opposite.


You believe in unlimited, eternal happiness?


Yes. And I’m not just saying that to be a provocateur.

Agiter la vie!

I just read and reread this book, “Desolation” by Yasmina Reza, which could be my credo. If you want a deeper look at my disturbing psyche, feel free to pick it up and have a skim. (English versions are available.)

This post will have no common thread, which is the common thread to this blog as a whole. So, a microcosm for my life, perhaps.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote, and quickly privatized (which apparently does not bypass the cache of rss feeds and readers) a long post about assholes, which in my usage has a broad coverage of everyone from a douchebag, an imbecile with no common sense, to a malicious human with not an ounce of empathy. Well, I still feel the same way. People seem to manifest and iterate my peeves. What can I say? You make it hard for me to be a decent human being, which at the end makes me feel like an asshole (of the last and worst category). It is exhausting. I would like to be able to be indiscriminate when it comes to tolerance, but I lack the altruism. I can’t find it in my heart to have a more profound faith in humanity and overlook certain bs traits that proliferate in so many. Worst of all, the unaware and hypocritical.

Y’all annoy the last ounce of kindness out of me.

And I ask, how did you get to be 23+, but still more boring than the rocks I kick on the way to class?

I am bored with life right now. I mean, two days ago, I was so bored I made mac and cheese from a box. (Can you even?)

I don’t hate law school, I’m mostly ambivalent about it. There’s nothing intrinsically stirring about it to evoke anything other than apathy, ya know? I suppose this is how I’ll feel about my career for the next 40 years. And…I am kind of apathetic about that prospect, too. It’s a matter of fact. (AM I DEAD INSIDE? JK)

I also wish I could just have fun with any and every one or that I could be more of a people’s person. It doesn’t necessarily make me act like a giant ball of hostile bitchiness, really; just a lot of internal awkwardness, which thanks to my impeccably cool front, translates as cold hearted misanthropy.

Life might be a big misunderstanding. Sometimes I think about how much grief and heartache is caused by miscommunication and misguided speculations and I wish to go resolve everything with anyone I’ve ever known (ok, maybe not everyone). (For example, a couple of weeks ago, someone told me that I have intimacy issues. And well, while the statement bore no legitimacy and validity to the parties in that particular conversation, it’s not the first time I’ve heard it and I’ve also considered if anything I do give off that impression, especially, to people whose opinion I’d respect and care for.) Unfortunately, this society doesn’t appreciate that kind of directness and transparency, so we’ll continue being vaguely happy but “peaceful” with the occasional, dull aches.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m generally happy with my lot, chipper even. I just need some change! Obvious change, like punctuations! Yes, right now, I feel like I’m in the middle of a run on sentence which has no end in sight, no strong thesis, and is unnecessarily complicated (like any good run on sentence should be).

I don’t want anyone to hate me, either. I’m just as disappointed as you are about this (though probably for different reasons). I’ve come to have less specific expectations about people and relationships, not exactly lowering my standards, but still I face inevitable disappointment. There have been two instances where all my expectations or lack thereof were completely squashed and thrown out the window like the silly, meaningless, juvenile projections they were. This may be why these two continue to retain so much respect in my mind. The moment I realized that you will never come close to that was when I said, I value respect in a relationship and you said, it doesn’t matter how much you respect a horse, it’s still a horse. I still have no idea what that even means other than that there is a fundamental difference that cannot be reconciled.

So many dalliances are marked by pervasive indifference, at best there are rare moments of intrigue, that with enough optimism, effort to exaggerate, sometimes carry it and prolong mild interest. People disappoint in the dullest way possible, the kind of disappointment that doesn’t even move you, like oh, you’ve disappointed me so much to the core that I feel the need to reevaluate my perspective. No, it’s all, more or less, yes, of course, another utter failure of a disconnect. Of course, moving on.

There is a difference between expressing an intelligent idea and imitating intelligence with empty words.

It’s pretty disappointing when you realize someone’s just a shell for the person they think they are. Worse: they don’t even realize, because of course they wouldn’t.

Sometimes I think I am out of my mind for being so difficult, judgy wudgy and generally peculiar until I talk to likeminded people who just “get” it. (see last post). I’m really not trying to get into involved discussions about it; they’re not complicated concepts, at all. People are either too dumb or just all about intellectualizing errthang a propos how it fits in with their principles that fit neatly with their assumptions about the world. SNOOZEFEST.

Oh, oh, and re: wit, in much clearer terms than I can manage re: wit, conversations, dating, “love” in general as reflected by the quality of movies put forth. I personally feel like movie execs just put out what the people want, and if the people want formulaic scripts, then I guess this doesn’t bode well for my needs. *faints dramatically with hand on forehead*