13 october 1999 | back | archive | forward

that's me. the girl over there with the big grin and skinny legs. black and burnt cherry strands of thick, choppy hair frame my face, while wire-rimmed glasses hide my slanted, asian eyes. i am not a tall girl, just average, although if you stand me beside any blood relative, i am a tower of woman.

that's me. the girl thumbing through the sale rack at the gap, grabbing an armful of clothes and heading straight into the fitting rooms as if in a trance. i no longer twirl in front of the mirror to see how high my skirt will spin. instead, i take long, scrutinizing gazes, sucking my stomach in, to see how bearable i can look. i will hand over my atm/visa numbly and walk away satisfied.

that's me. the girl knocking back another drink between giggles and mumbled chatter. i wander my spinning apartment in flip-flops, a silky skirt and red lipstick, until i find you. i ask if you want another drink, as i nearly spill my own onto my blouse. oh, the bathroom, i say. it's over there. i point to the wall. here, have another cookie. i hand you a brownie. are you having fun? i ask you, concerned. good, good, i say, as i float to the next cluster of familiar faces.

that's me. the girl sitting at the bookstore cafe, trying to look literate and fascinating and like someone you might want to bring flowers and hug in the rain. but instead of reading satre, i'm thumbing through a children's book. instead of writing a screenplay, i'm saturating my notebook with my self-centered, circular thoughts.

that's me. the girl walking with her head slightly down, not looking where she's going. the one who just tripped. maybe you saw it, but you're holding back your chuckles. maybe you see me mutter a few curses, look nervously around to see if anyone's watching and keep walking. straight ahead, but slowly, and not surely at all.

that's me. just a girl, like any other girl. maybe you've seen me. maybe you think you have. maybe you haven't at all.

but this is a glimpse. like any glimpse -- quick, blurry and wholly incomplete, with so much more to see.

[this entry was inspired by maura mae's entry that was honest and pure; my girlfriend katy who mistook me for some kind of angel; and the boy with the pretty eyes, who made me wonder the whole drive home what he thought of me.]

i can't believe this girl ashley is only 15. her website, rocket, is just so amazingly lovely. and she has a crush on a grocery store bagger, like i once did, which confirms that she's cool.

i'm letting the laundry pile, really high.

some visually rich sites, like function and shutterbug andzack, of course, with his new photo series that shifts everyday things into a whole new light.

"and i cried and i cried and i cried and i cried..." that leaving l.a. song that makes me want to puke.

maganda doesn't really rhyme with anything.

e-mail me.
i like e-mail, and i like you.