TUESDAY. 11:00 AM. Poisson d'Avril!

FRIDAY. 9:27 AM. I am up at a reasonable hour (for once) on a day off. On teaching days, I normally wake up around 6:30 AM or so. However, I've been waking up before my alarm clock this past week -- like around 5 AM. Then, on off days, I wake up anywhere between 9 AM and noon. My sleep cycle is totally manic-depressive. I got woken up this morning by my upstairs neighbor thunking around.

I'm starting to really want to get out of this place. My upstairs neighbors are always rearranging furniture, clog dancing, or something. It drives me crazy. And last night, in my building, we had a bit of a domestic disturbance. A new family moved in this past week -- actually into my old unit, right across the hall from my sister's apartment. Last night, there was screaming, shouting, door slamming, pounding, children crying, children being screamed at. It wasn't pretty. My sister said it sounded really bad. She called the police. They came. They saw. I'm not exactly sure what happened. No one was seriously hurt -- a good thing. But there was definitely high tempers. Eventually, the police came out with some people from the apartment, who proceeded to continue to argue and get spastic in front of the officers. Smart, eh? I hope this drama doesn't become a nightly show. And I hope no one gets hurt in the process.

Anyway. Well, the "week after" hasn't been too bad -- meaning the week after my final decision to stay in the DC area and attend the University of Maryland. I haven't broken out in hives or had any anxiety dreams or fits of screaming, "Noooooooo!" I guess then I'm in good shape.

Actually, I'm all right. Like I said last month, I'm just sad. I think that UMCP is the better school for me, but SF is the better place for me. At this point, I think the better school will serve me in the long run -- getting a teaching job, applying for Ph.D. programs, getting a stronger education. Plus I can definitely weather the recession here in the DC area than in San Francisco, which is still feeling the ice age of the dot-com depression. I know that two years isn't a long time. When I'm done with my program, I can head west. Who knows what will happen?

I had a meeting with the graduate program director yesterday. It was a simple advising appointment. I wanted to find out if any of my coursework was salvagable. Unfortunately, none of it is recoverable. It's been too long -- more than five years. However, the director said that my coursework could still count for the department's requirements. I just don't get any credit for it. I still need to take 30 credits to satisfy the requirements of the graduate school, but they can be any 30 credits. That's decent news. It means I don't have to worry about taking classes I don't want to take but have to take to satisfy a requisite. Now, I just need to hear about funding.

Congratulations to my sister, Alenda, who was offered a teaching assistantship for next year! She was totally worried about it. I told her that she was a shoe-in. The Chang legacy continues. She'll be a great teacher. She'll get her first taste of teaching English 101. She'l have a great time.

The weather has been very spring-like. I'm glad for it. It's been in the high seventies with a slight breeze. It's perfect. It's San Franciscan weather. I wish that it would stay like this for a long time. But I know it won't last. It's actually supposed to get chilly again next week. Then we might eke out another week of actual spring. By May, it'll probably start getting hot and sweltering. Fun.

Ah well. I am ready for the semester to be over. I really don't want to grade anymore papers. I just want to teach and then release my students into the wilderness of the summer and their second year at college. I am still trying to figure out when I'm going to move down into the city. I guess I have some time to sort things out. Till then, I'll just keep on keeping on.

More later.

P.S. This is ridiculous.

This is pretty darn funny.

What do Buffy and Smallville have in common?

If you haven't gotten on the fhqwhgads wagon, then you really need to take it to the limit.

TUESDAY. 7:00 PM. Another week. Another dollar (or several dozen) spent. I had a reasonably good weekend -- one filled with driving around the city, hanging out in Adams Morgan, driving around rural Maryland, hanging out in tattoo parlours, and going dancing.

Friday night, I went downtown to hang out with Nancy. We had coffee at Soho (P & 22nd NW). I am amazed that Soho doesn't have its own website; in fact, there are times I just want to say walk in and say, "Pay me some money, and I'll build you something. You need something!"

After coffee, I drove home. Ryan dropped by after work. We decided to go out. We decided to head back down into the city and go have a few drinks in Adams Morgan. Plus, Nancy left her mobile phone in my car and really wanted it back. So, we hung out at the Parmacy Bar (another fine establishment without a website).

Saturday, I woke up late. I didn't do any work (though I did manage a website update). Then my friend Meredith called me and asked me if I wanted to go with her and our friends Dana and Rob to the tattoo shop. I didn't really have anything else in mind. So, why not? She picked me up and we rumbled in her Xterra to Little Vinnie's (also another place without a proper website -- what's the deal?) near Reisterstown, MD. My very first tattoo was from Vinnie's back when it was still a small shop in Westminster, MD. The new shop -- one of two -- is larger but a little less cozy, friendly, less mom-and-pop. We hung out. Dana, who was the whole reason for the trip, priced a tattoo. So did Meredith. Rob and I decided to stay out of the whole thing (to avoid spending the $$$).

Little Vinnie's couldn't take Dana or Meredith. So we decided to travel south to another parlour. We drove all the way down to Arlington, VA to a little hole-in-the-wall called Skyline Tattoo (it does have a website, but it is pop-up hell). Small, a little grungy, and smoky, Skyline turned out to be very reasonable with talented artists. Dana and Meredith put themselves in the queue for getting ink. Then we waited. And waited. And waited. By the time they were ready to go under the gun, both Rob and I decided we just couldn't resist the pull of the ink.

I got a very small tattoo. A little fireball right under the tribal dragon on my right calf. For some reason, the very simple design caught my attention; it was the only thing that felt right, looked right, and made me smile. It marks my sixth tattoo and the fifth state in which I've gotten work done. It's still very fresh and a little sore. In time, it'll heal, the redness will fade, and the hair will grow back; then it'll blend in nicely with the existing work. It makes me happy.

The whole tattoo extravaganza took nearly ten hours. But everyone walked away with fresh ink, a lighter pocketbook (though the prices were very reasonable), and a tube of A & D ointment. Dana got a pair of celtic knotwork dragons on her shoulder. Meredith got a bust of Bast on her ankle, which came out excellent. Rob added two huge Japanese characters to the piece on his back. It was a great experience. Now everyone else in our circle wants to get work done. I have already started planning my next piece for my left arm.

After getting tattoos, Meredith and I raced home. We got cleaned up. We primped. We got changed. We picked up our friend Shawn. And we headed down to Nation for "Madonnarama" -- a special theme night dedicated to the now matron of pop. "Madonnarama" coincided with the release of her new single and upcoming album American Life. The club was hopping and crowded by the time we got there. We parked. We stood in line. We paid an extraordinary cover. We rushed the bar where my friend Vickie was working. It was fun. We danced. We hung out. We drank -- well, they drank -- I was the designated driver. We watched all the crazy half-naked people bumping and grinding on the dance floor. I had been wanting to see some fun drag queens and I got my wish. Eventually, it just got too crowded, too smoky, and too late. With the onset of daylight savings time, 3 AM became 4 AM in a blink.

I didn't get to bed till after five in the morning. Much of Sunday was spent catching up on sleep. I gamed Sunday evening. Then the new week was upon me. All in all, it was a good weekend.

MONDAY. 10:30 AM. I got up at a decent hour this morning. I think it's helping that I don't sleep past when my body decides it wants to wake up. I am still a little sleepy. I had some pretty strange dreams last night. Of course, hours later, I don't really recall what they were about. I remember waking up a couple of times during the night and thinking to myself, "That's pretty strange."

It's a new week. I have a month of the semester left. Then I'll be free as a bird (and woefully unemployed). I'm a little concerned about whether or not I'm going to get a job for next year. I'm on top of the list for lectureships for the fall, but with the budget cuts and the State of Maryland continuing to hack funding for higher education, I don't know if there will be a job for me even if the school did want to hire me. I am also looking for graduate assistantship possibilities as well. I know once I establish funding for school and for living, I'll be much happier.

The past weekend was pretty darn full. Actually, it began before the weekend even started. I spent the latter part of last week prepping a new table for gaming. (I know it's a total geek think to do, but I love it.) I ordered two six-foot folding tables, which were delivered on Wednesday. On Thursday, I spray painted the legs and metal trim a hammered silver. I also spray painted the table tops gloss black. They look pretty darn good. I'll have to put some pictures up when I can.

Friday night, friends came over to play Call of Cthulhu. The new gaming table was a big hit. Now there's plenty of room for everyone around the table.

Saturday, I had Archaea. The adventure was a glorified Easter egg hunt. It was actually a lot of fun. I think I got the most amusement out of watching a group of grown men and women wandering around the woods looking for little, bright color, plastic eggs.

Saturday night, the gang went up to Baltimore to hit Club Orpheus for "Taboo" -- a goth, fetish night. I had never been to Orpheus. It's a small place with two floors. It was fun to get all dressed up and go out. I hitched a ride with Shawn and Christine. A bunch of other folks met us at the club. I got to dance and drink a little. I ran into some people I haven't seen for a number of years. It did remind me that no matter how moody and melancholic I get, I'm not the gothic type (even though a little black eyeliner can go a long way).

After the club, a bunch of us drove down to the IHOP in College Park. I'm not sure having steak and eggs after a night of Stoli Razberi and cranberry was such a good idea. I was convinced that I would run into one of my students. But, alas, that fun wasn't to be had.

Sunday was spent sleeping. And after I woke up, I got ready for Tellings in the afternoon. With the new gaming table deluxe, we moved playing Tellings from Kate and Skinner's abode to my apartment. It was fun. Again, the new table was a heralded success.

Now, it's Monday. The weather is very mild. The sun is bright. I am definitely enjoying the spring while it lasts. It reminds me of the weather in San Francisco. I am hoping to make a visit to SF in June. Then I can continue to savor the temperate weather while it gots hot and humid here in Maryland.

I really should be grading papers. Ah well. More later.

P.S. I'm going to try something new and different. I have created a new message board for comments, hellos, suggestions, conversation, or whatever. I'm also going to allow for people to leave specific responses to specific journal entries. I know it's a little clunky in implementation, but I think it'll work out. Enjoy.

read | write

FRIDAY. 2:17 PM. Everything is far from perfect. But it is a state that I think to which most people are accustomed. But is it something they embrace? I think the answer to that question is probably a shard of the secret to life, to living well, to longevity. Most of us -- we human animals -- do a lot of fretting, gnawing, puffing, shitting. A lot of it is in the hopes of some sort of gain -- social, familial, financial, reproductive, spiritual. And what does all of it add up to? Death.

Somewhere in the nooks and crannies of today, I took my cynic's pill. Was it the red or the blue? Am I tasting reality or fantasy or the reality of fantasy or the fantasy of reality? I not quite sure what's gotten into me. Existentialism is an opiate, I guess. I think entirely way too much.

The good news is that I'm still alive and kicking.

I've locked in my plans to visit San Francisco. As soon as the semester is over, I'm headed to the West for two weeks in the latter half of June. The plane tickets were the right price -- only a little over two hundred round trip. I have a place to stay with my friends Rob and Murphy. I am ready to go. I am afraid I may not want to come back. I am already playing through my mind the places I will visit again, the people I will see again, and the things I want to do while I'm there. I am still very much drawn to The City. It is a part of who I am. I know I want to go back -- at least that's how I feel now. Who knows what I'm going to feel six months from now, a year from now, or two years after finishing graduate school.

Thanks to Nancy for pointing out this from a SFer's weblog. It's nice to know I'm not the only one in "what the hell do I do?" land.

I registered for two classes already. I've decided to take a readings course on "Myth and Theory" taught by one of my favorite professors, Verlyn Flieger. I ran into Dr. Flieger yesterday in the stairwell of the English building. She remembered me and she seemed genuinely happy that I was returning to school. It will be an honor and a pleasure to be in her classroom again. I am also taking a graduate seminar on the "Rhetoric of Science." I don't know if I'm going to add a third course or not. It all depends on whether I get funding and how many classes I'll be teaching in the fall.

Other than the usual harangues, I am just biding my time. Once the semester is done and my students' final papers graded, I can focus on working on the architecture of my life here (back) on the East Coast. I am hoping my move into DC will be swift, exciting, easy, and affordable. Like I said early, all I seem to do is worry about this, that, or the other thing. Money is one of those this's and that's that keep me in a bind.

I am trying to let go. I am trying to not play the victim. I am trying to pay reverence to the things that matter, that bring cheer, that create rather than prostrate myself to the things that enervate, that lead to ugliness, that divide. I'm still figuring out what that means exactly. But there is definitely a pattern to my introspections and my outward examinations of my life. Once enough of the the threads are in place, once some of the flat-sided edge pieces of the puzzle are put together, I'll be able to step back and see what's going on.

I know part of it is that I feel between worlds, between two places, between two chapters of my life. It's a feeling I've felt before. Back in 1998 when I decided to drop everything -- school, teaching, family, friends, life -- and move to San Francisco, I felt a resounding inbetweeness. The months ramping up to my move were a strange limbo. And I feel it now as I prepare to leave the suburbs of Maryland once again and head just a few miles south into DC. Intellectually, I'm moving also; I'm preparing to become a student again, a graduate student, and there is part of me that isn't sure if the mantle will fit.

I know I am ready for the change. I am more than willing. I know through all of the insecurity, I am doing the right thing, doing right by me.

read | write

TUESDAY. 4:12 PM. I hate to be a grouse, but I'm tired. The past few days in particular have been just a drain on me. I'm not sure what's going on in my psyche or my body, but I just don't feel like I'm totally connected to things. My sleep has been punctuated and disturbed by strange and at times anxious dreams. I feel sluggish, disinterested, weary. It might be low-grade allergies, I suppose. Or it might just be some sort of ennui. Regardless, I feel blah.

My weekend was all right. I watched a lot of movies, which is a change of pace. Last Thursday night, I went to see Bulletproof Monk; it was all right, entertaining, and completely fluff. It was fun to go out. I went to the movie with Shawn, Christine, and Ryan.

On Friday night, my friend Scott and I drove down to Georgetown to see Better Luck Tomorrow, a new independent film by Justin Lin; BLT has received a lot of press and is the subject of some controversy for its portrayal of teenage Asian-American youth living in Southern California. The film was engaging, interesting, energetic, well-acted, and definitely hit on a few themes about race, about friendship, about success, about coming-of-age. The film features an all Asian leading cast -- something unusual for a film about "everyday" + "American" + "teenage" life. I am still working through some of the film's ideas. I think it was definitely very MTVish (not surprising considering the age of the filmmaker, the target audience, and the distributor of the film) in style, in editing, and in soundtrack.

I definitely identified with some of the "stereotypes" of the Asian-American high schoolers in the film. Good grades. Strict but often absent parents. The challenge, the grinding edge of assimilation versus individuality, of doing for others and doing for self, of present versus future, of failure and success. I understood the cultural pressure to succeed particularly in the face of adversity -- the wellspring of the pressure comes from the Great American Dream and its subset the Immigrant American Dream. But I didn't have a clique of all Asian friends. In fact, the schools of my youth were predominantly white. I think the pull of assimilation was strong in me (something that ties neatly into the fact that I continually strive to be accepted). Most of my friends were white. All of my close friends were white. So, now, when I think about myself, my life, my experience in terms of race, I am constantly juggling who I am, who I want to be, and who I am expected (by family, by friends, by teachers, by society in general) to be.

I think one of the brilliant things BLT accomplished was the sense that these young men and women -- regardless of their ethnicity, their "race," their Asian-ness -- could be any other group of young men and women struggling with growing up, with applying to college, with trying to fit in, with wanting to make a mark on the face of their world, with making decisions (both good and bad) and living with their consequences. It isn't a film about the erasure of race but the subtle yet purposeful acceptance of it. Do I think the film is racist? I can see how some would argue that the portrayal of the main characters were troubling, dangerous, even negative. But I don't think it was racist. I don't think that was the invention of the film. I liked that the characters has a certain naturalness about them. There was little tokenness about them (at least in terms of being Asian). They belonged, in a way, in the world they inhabited.

I would definitely recommend the film. Go see it. Spend money on it. It's really important to support, encourage, and fund different views and different experiences. Of course, being the queering eye that I am, I am fascinated by several moments in the film where the lines between friendship, homosociality, and homoeroticism blur (though barely). The Asian-American community is still extremely homophobic, and there are moments in BLT that make me wince. I can see and sense a little wiggle room in the sexuality of the characters (and you know how much I like a good wiggle).

After the jaunt to Georgetown, Scott and I headed back to my place. Ryan came over after work. We three watched some stand-up comedy on cable and had a few drinks. It was very relaxed. I hadn't spent any time with Scott in months; it was definitely good to hang out with him and chat about what he was doing and how he was doing.

Saturday was very quiet. I think I watched entirely too much cable TV. I watched Bring It On twice on the boob tube. I also watched Can't Hardly Wait (Ethan Embry is way to cute in that dorky, slightly stoner sort of way). Saturday night, I went over to Kate and Skinner's house for more movies. Meredith came over. Shawn came over. Kelle came over. I only made it through the first movie: High Heels and Low Lifes starring Minnie Driver.

Sunday, the weather was gorgeous. I decided to head up to Burtonsville Park, which is up the street from my place, and play Darkon. I don't play Darkon that much any more -- only when I have time, when the event is close, and when the mood strikes me. I felt like being outside. I felt like being a character instead of the game master. So I went. Not very many people I knew were out (being Easter Sunday and all). Ryan was there and a couple of others I knew. I played for a couple of hours and then headed home. Sunday evening, I played Tellings with the usual gang.

Yesterday, Monday, was a drag. I didn't do anything of real use. It was definitely a blah day. I have a lot on my mind, I guess. I'm trying to sort out some things. I'm ready for the semester to end. I'm worrying about my job status for next semester. I'm a little anxious about starting school again. I want to move into the city. And I'm sorting out some personal feelings and issues. Friendship. Family. Love. Life. Worth. Wisdom. Truth. It's all a big mess sometimes.

I need to chill out. Today has been all right. The routine of school helps.

I guess it's just one of those days. Not bad, just strange. I cancelled my morning class. We were supposed to workshop papers today, but no one was signed up. So I gave them a "research day." Of course, when I got to campus -- a little later than usual -- I found a couple of students hadn't gotten the message I sent out about the cancellation. I did hold my second class.

I spent nearly fifteen minutes in the parking lot at school today arguing with my car. After my last class, I walked across campus to where I normally park. I pull out my keys and hit the "unlock" button on my car remote. Nothing happens. I hit it again. Nothing happens. I walk all the way up to my car and press the button. Nothing happens. I guessed the battery in the remote finally gave out and just used my key to open the door. Unfortunately, my Saturn decided I was an intruder and the car alarm went out. I quickly jumped in, put my key in the ignition, and tried to start the car thinking it would turn the alarm off. I was wrong. Not only did the car not start (because of a feature that shuts down the car's ignition when the alarm has been triggered), the alarm didn't shut off either. Finally, after a minute of honking, the car shuts up. I go to start the car again, and the alarm is re-triggered. While listening to the honk-honk-honk, I got out the car manual from the glove compartment and searched for a solution. Finally, I figured out that somehow my remote had become un-sychronized from the car alarm. I get the remote back up to speed and reset the alarm. Now, after thoroughly laughing at my situation, I get the car started and I drive home.

I think I'll be happier when I don't have to worry about my car anymore. Besides, one less car on the road is good for celebrating Earth Day!

read | write

MONDAY. 11:00 AM. Happy birthday to Nancy!

WEDNESDAY. 4:12 PM. My birthday is next week. In less than seven days, I'm turning thirty-three. Three-elevenses. The day that hobbits are recognized as adults. I suppose it is an auspicious number. There is a part of me that really wants the day to be special -- it's a running trope in my life -- I guess the drama queen in me wants to take advantage of the day. Then there is a part of me that just wants to call the whole thing off and just let it pass quietly.

Blah. More later.

read | write