Everywhere you look
Mood:  special
Now Playing: Everywhere You Look by Jesse Frederick
The theme song to Full House has been floating around my head. We started it singing it randomly after a night out last weekend. You know it. I know you know it.

What ever happened to predictability?
The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV.
(remember the episode when Stephanie or was it DJ who had the crush/fling with the paperboy?)
You miss your old familiar friends,
waiting just around the bend.

It got me to thinking about all those familiar friends and faces in sitcoms, all those faces with all that predictability. Those faces were familiar in their respective TV lands- to the milkmen, the paperboys- at school, the store, or the ever favorite, the bar.

Where everybody knows your name

So I was trying to think, in my life, who are my Gunthers of Central Perk, where am I part of the neighborhood of familiar faces?

I was thinking all of this from my hotel room. See I smiled when I walked into my room. A sense of relief and familiarity came over me. This is my life and this is my temporary home. This is where I get, "Welcome back." This is where I'm expected. My predictability.

Well, I thought back to the weekend and to singing the Full House theme in the Taco and Burrito Palace (#1). I go there quite often after a night out. It's our taco place. I always say hello to Jorge and he always nods and waves back. This week, we're especially toasted, and we say, "we love it here, we ALWAYS come here" and Jorge and Chava, they make my wish come true. They say, "we know, we know who you are."

I've always wanted to be a regular somewhere. To be singled out as a regular, well that was great. I've created my very own TV land. Looks like I've got a home and a neighborhood after all. I could have a sitcom! My open credits would be similar to those of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Me, on an airplane, getting out of a cab, looking up at my three flat apt with my roller bag. There would be three permanent sets: my apartment, Moxie and the Taco and Burrito Palace.


ahh - ahh - ahh - ahhhh
Everywhere you look, everywhere you look (there's a heart)
There's a heart, a hand to hold onto

Unfinished business
Mood:  lazy
I'm just going to put this out there, as sad as it sounds, not a lot makes me want to leave my apartment, especially on a dreary day. Quite frankly I don't feel like doing much even in my apartment. My room begs to be cleaned. Piles of laundry and dry cleaning are constant reminders of what should be done. But who am I kidding? There are piles of clean clothes that have never been put away. I just operate in piles these days.

Okay, yes, I've kind of always operated in piles. I'm not the neatest person in the world. I use the excuse that my current quarters are the size of dorm room single, but my room at home was in a static state of emergency as well.

I may not be good at house keeping, but I do have more excuses. I'm really good at excuses. I've been spending 2.5 days every two weeks at home for the past two months. I live out of a roller bag. Pile it in, pile it out. Hell, the fact that I know those rolly things are called roller bags speaks to my frequent travel. So if you spent less than a week at home a month, would you take a day to clean your room? I assure you, it is a full day event. And let me remind you, one of those days I'm supposed to be working remotely and the .5 portion I spend getting ready to leave again.

I take a stab at it each time I'm home, but then I do something like a bit of laundry, "organizing," or packing, and it winds up much the same as I returned to. So with only one full day to dedicate to my own needs, I don't have the time to thoroughly fix or maintain a model space.

You know what I just realized? I'm done writing right now. I started writing because I was sick of cleaning. And now I'm going to clean because I'm sick of writing. Or maybe I'll just read. I have an unfinished book sitting around.

Opposites attract
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: Check On It - Destiny's Child
I'm a city girl, that seems fairly obvious. I love New York, Paris, Shanghai, that makes sense. I love having museums, theatre and restaurants at my disposal, for the days when I'll have disposable income. I want to be a cosmopolitan patron of the arts and I never want to live in suburbia, let alone in the middle of nowhere. So what was it about Wyoming that captured my heart?

Simple cliche - it was unlike any other place I'd ever been. A slice of life that most Americans don't get to see, or am I wrong? A slice of life that most Americans live but "we" don't get to see? And by we, I mean, you and I, the urban and suburbanites that get our fruit at Whole Foods and our cheesecake from a Factory.

I've never really been to small town, USA before, let alone one in the least populated state in the union. Is it mean that I found it amusing? It was just so novel. People wear cowboy hats and go dancing in the swanky Best Western hotel bar. (Seriously, it really looked swanky) A crazy man with long grey hair sings covers while doing shots to "kinky aerobic chocolate covered sex." They know who their election workes are, they host winter carnivals and medieval feasts. There are three liquor stores within one minute of each other and one "upscale casual" restaurant in 30 miles.

When most people think of traveling, they mean to Europe, the Bahamas, maybe Africa. I certainly never realized how much there is to experience in my own country. I never knew so many taxidermied animals could be placed in one airport terminal. I never knew I could like it. I never knew I would or should go. I'm not exactly packing my bags, but I think of Wyoming fondly. Maybe it's just because I'm Asian. I'm told every Wednesday in the summer, a bus load of Asian tourists show up to tour the capitol building, home to, among other treasures, one stuffed bison bison bison

Reunited and it feels so good
Mood:  chatty
Perhaps Laura would have titled it "Sex and the Burgh." Yes, the three blind mice reunite at Shady Grove for drinks and dishing. The three blind mice being: Kat/Dawg, Lizard and Laura the animal hater, otherwise known as Money, Ho, Cash respectively. Laura and Liz have been friends since forever, but the three of us have 10 years under our belts now. We share quite a number of memories and traditions.

I've been feeling quite alienated from people and this is exactly what I needed. The cliche scene from Sex and the City: women rehashing the past, present and future over drinks. There were innocent times, back when soap operas were the topic of the day, and there have been our more ridiculous moments.

We didn't do much, but it's been one of the best days I've had in a long time. It was great because we weren't talking about other people, what they're up to, pointing and laughing, which is commonly what it boils down to sometimes with people, we were just talking about us.

The time of your life
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: dawson's creek rerun
The true test of how over high school you are is how you feel when you watch Dawson's Creek.

To my surprise and pleasure, TWO episodes of Dawson's were on this morning on TBS. I was a regular watcher for several seasons during its prime. We were the same age. We grew up together.

Pashaw I say to you negative fools that can't appreciate the emotional reality of a teen drama, especially one of such intelligence. Granted I am prone to excessive drama, but who doesn't love to feel alive?

I identified with Joey, as I think most girls were supposed to. I had a Dawsonesque story. I had a Pacey type that fell into my lap, though only for a short period of time. I never dated anyone who would become gay though, but I did have a crush on a closetcase.

Dawson's Creek was like watching my life on TV, but only better: better put, better set, better looking (eh, only Joey and Pacey). And watching now, it makes me remember, not of my own angst, but how much fun it was to have it. How fabulous it was to spend hours on the phone, to feel butterflies, to gossip in the library during free periods. I miss those days.

I don't miss the Dawsons or Paceys of my life. I miss the free periods, the musings, the constant reminder that I am alive. I miss the easy life.

Unsocial because I've been too social
Mood:  hug me
The ever uncontent kat wang returns. Just when I thought my life was right, everyone else's better life proves me wrong. I mean let's talk about a pretty damn good series of events: my grades were good, i'm in a relationship, recruitment went amazingly well, i have job for next year. I made some super purchases, what is wrong?

Classes this quarter are a mess. I don't feel on top of any of them. Maybe it's because for once in my life I'm trying to be on top of them? I guess that's not so bad. It's just terribly hard actually reading assignments, but I feel good about it because it's been actually interesting. That's a new feeling.

I'm feeling socially repressed. This is my senior year of college. My senior year of high school was the most social year of high school. This should be my most social year of college. Instead I think it's the least social year of my LIFE. I blame this entirely on myself however. Being in a relationship makes it to easy to settle into a social rut. I need so much more peer pressure in my life.

Perhaps I've resigned myself to the fact that I think college is a stopping ground in my life. Neither here nor there. I'm just so ready to leave it and start the rest of my life I forget that this in fact is my life. I'm just not very used to this situation of having varied friends. My friends were a group. I had a few different groups, but we always overlapped some how. I was never alone.

Now I feel like everyone's got a group and I've got friends in them. Living in the house was so much easier to deal with this because I had a consistent group to count on. Now that my consistent group has graduated, I'm left with more groups of which I relate to but must juggle on my own. It is this juggling I don't know how to deal with. How does one float from group to group, on their own, never feeling excluded by the fact that they have missed so much as not part of the group. That's why being in a relationship is so easy. We are the group. I am not alone. I don't have to juggle or plan. We just are. And that's how high school was for me. No juggling. It was us. sometimes us and them. but always us. I end college the way I began it, always in search of a clique because I've never known what to do with amazing friends who aren't friends. The easy answer is just to make them friends right? But how is that possible when they all have steady cliques already and when my range is so varied. I've spent so much time making friends, I haven't been able to develop into my own clique. Maybe that is my lesson in life. Stop being such a social butterfly because butterflies don't travel in packs.

The Perfect Outfit
Mood:  rushed
*oooh Tripod updated to cuteness. of course my personal favorite is the new spell check option.*

I operate on a certain type of perfection. Most perfectionists are driven, on target and well, successful. They do everything until it's perfect. Maybe I am the average perfectionist, just failing at success. If it isn't perfect, then I just don't do it.

Rushing for class today, I couldn't find a thing to wear. I had to dress nicely for chapter, but I didn't want to go to class business casual. I didn't have any pants I wanted to wear, I didn't have shoes I liked, I couldn't find the perfect outfit. The clock ticked by. I spent half an hour to find something acceptable and I was going to be late. I didn't think my outfit was any more than just acceptable and I didn't feel like slinking in to the front of the class only acceptable, so I just didn't go. It wasn't a perfect situation.

I have an image I want to portray and I suppose it is one of effortless perfection. It's not easy. I think I'm succeeding at effortless but not so much at perfection. It is very warped. I want to be perfect, but if I can't be perfect, I prefer not to achieve 50% or even 75% perfection, I choose zero. I choose 100% effortless. Effortless perfection is an oxymoron. I'm beginning to realize that more and more.

I don't know how perfect people do it. I get by okay. I told myself, okay, you're really busy, you can just read the book later, nothing important will be covered in class, and I do truly believe that. It would be nice to attend class however.

I decided I would be productive in my spare time. I would make a list of items I need to purchase in order to complete my wardrobe so that this problem does not arise again.

Time after time, problem after problem, I come to the conclusion that my problem is money. If I had money, I would buy everything that I needed. I would never feel a void in my closet, a void that couldn't be filled with a trip to Nordstrom's that is. If I had money, I wouldn't be so concerned with finding a super star job. I could go pursue my dreams.

Even earning money takes effort however. I wasn't born into a life of royalty. I can't be a princess. Accept and move on. Effortless perfection is out of my reach. Sometimes you have to work out in a t-shirt and shorts. It's the same work out you would get in a workout outfit. And what's more important? Looking good in workout gear or looking good in everything you wear?

an unaddressed letter never to be sent
When I go home, my head starts to spin. Sometimes I feel like it's going to spin right off.

I once called my room a time capsule. It's more than that, it's a time machine. My mind explores the questions it hasn't bothered or dared to ask in months.

A picture is worth a thousand words. A picture is a memory, a reminder. If I destroyed the pictures, I would destroy the memories simply because I would no longer be reminded. They would be fleeting thought in a busy world. But, if I destroyed the pictures, I would saying that I'm sorry that they had occurred.

Do you apologize for me? Was I a mistake? Do you feel the things you never felt for me? Does she remember that fateful day when we were all in the same room? I do. I remember both times. I am mortified. I hope that there's a third time. We would come full circle and I would destroy pictures.

Breaking my heart is one thing. It's okay because I've found someone to mend it. But, to continually jab at it and then make me absolutely embarressed and mortified that I ever believed there was an "us" is heartless.

You like and you love who you like or love. I don't have a right to blame you. But couldn't you have found someone new? Someone who wouldn't mess with my reality? Someone who wouldn't make it difficult for me to go home and face pictures I never want to see again, but are too painful to take down because they would leave empty spaces on my mantle? Without you, my high school experience feels a void. With you, I never want to contemplate my full high school experience again.

Here at school, I get on just fine. I barely think of you unless my high school friends start asking the questions I have pushed out of my mind. I am creating new memories and taking new pictures with a new person. I have moved on, I am moving on. It just hurts that I can't ever look back with a sense of comfort.

What of it though? I'm staying in Evanston for the summer, so is my boyfriend. I need not think of you or home at all. I can run from Pittsburgh as fast as I can until the day I decide to return.

The Fabulous Life of Kat Wang
I'm taking The History of Film. It's a global survey of national cinemas since 1939. I haven't learned any hip terms yet, otherwise I'd have thrown them in. I like the feeling of going to that class, sitting down and knowing that I take The History of Film. It makes me feel very college, faux intellectual if you will. Viewing classic foreign films makes me regret my choice of the more mature young professional glasses rather than the artsy black cat-eye frames.

It's the same thrill I get out of an occasional planned outting to the library- especially Deering. Sometimes I even dress the part, in jeans and a cable knit sweater. Smell the preppy faux intellectualism, it smells just like coffee, okay maybe hot chocolate in my case. I wish I drank coffee, sometimes I do, when I'm really intellectual.

Each occasion is a scene out of my personal movie: Kat Wang Goes to College. I really wish we had more ivy, it'd make much better scenery. Every now and then I get the urge to step into my role as college student. Isn't that what I am you ask? Don't be silly. I go to college, but I'm not a college student. My cinematic influences have shaped the heroine into a pony tailed, oxford shirt, cable knit sweater wearing, co-ed in jeans, loafers and pearl earrings. She sips coffee while researching obscure cultural phenomenons or perhaps black politics in Pittsburgh from the 1950's to the 1960's, as scripted several years ago. Oh yes, Kat Wang is an actress of grand proportions, she need not attend college to play the role of college student.

The only reason I get away with faux intellectualism is because it is just a facade. I'd have to jump into a gorge, or perhaps settle for the lake, if I really related to the condescending artsy fartsy fucks who have already seen Jean Jacque Jeronimo's masterpiece. I get a little kick out of mocking my own image of what college should be by playing the part once in a blue moon.

Obviously I tire of it quickly. I stop going to class altogether, my library appearances have always been few and far between. I'm really excited about Wednesday though. Kat Wang Goes to College: Discovering the Gym. I've held out for 3 years but this cute little ass discovers work out fashion in the near future!

I like to joke about my life like it doesn't really exist. My advisor once said I'm wafting my way through Northwestern and rather well actually. The truth is, maybe I'd be better off becoming my role. Nothing's wrong with studying, being interested in a subject, or even working out. I just don't ever feel like doing any of it. As luck would have it, I just haven't needed to. Blessing or curse?

let's do the time warp
I'm listening to the radio. Commercials come on. Oh god. The trashy suburban Pittsburgh accent comes on. "Hey Ashley, he finally asked me to prom." Two girls engage in poorly written dialogue to promote a dress store. Something catches in my throat, snaps in my head and I have to turn the radio off. I can't bear to listen to this commercial.

What the hell is it? I'm a junior in college and this STILL bothers me? I can't handle hearing about prom! I go to formals at school, I went to all my dances in highschool. Three proms. What's my problem?

Back when I was a freshman in college and my friend was still dating a boy in highschool, I was jealous. We all were jealous. She got to go back to prom. It's like a early life crisis. We yearned for the good old days. The excitement of one of the biggest nights of our young lives.

Prom wasn't even that exciting. I got a dress. I got my hair and nails done. The DJ sucked. It wasn't magical and it wasn't the best night of my life. I had a good time, it meant something to me, but it wasn't a fairytale.

It was 3 years ago. GET OVER IT. What is my deal? Reminiscing about prom freshman year is one thing but I'm headed towards a real life now. It's time to grow up.

Coming home does this to me. It's like walking into a time warp. Everything is just how I left it 3 years ago. My life 3 years ago is in this room. Evidence of it is everywhere from the conversations saved on my computer to the pictures on my mantle. A bag of graduation cards still sits on my floor. Prom pictures. The thing is, I can't bring myself to put it all away.

In less than a month I'm going to be legal. That was beyond my grasp of time back then. I could have stayed in high school forever. But I didn't. I live in Chicago, I'm planning my future, I have added new friends, my clothes don't even fit. I hate being in this room because it takes me back to where I was, as if nothing has changed. Everything has changed, I have changed. I need to be in Chicago this summer. If I ever have to live in this room again, I'm going to fall apart.