25. i'm hotter than the platypus.

one of the meanest things anyone's ever told me was when my ex, during a talk about talking, said, "I don't think we need to talk. Just the physical stuff - being around each other - is enough."

i mean, knowing her, she meant it in a romantic kind of way, but for someone whose biggest fear is not being able to say the things that're on my mind without sounding stupid, for someone who wants to finally be able to open up and share things with someone who's more or less obligated to listen, that's a pretty crappy thing to hear.

it was weird when i found that out about myself.

i never really saw myself as the kind who would be the one in the relationship to want to talk.

the Little Spoon.

but throughout our relationship i found myself saying things like, "Don't you wanna talk about it?" and "We never talk! Let's share things!"

after a little while, hearing my echo, i realized, "Hot damn. I'm THAT lesbian. Crap."

i wasn't always like this, though.

when i was little, i was perfectly happy being the quiet kid.

i didn't know i was weird til my mother told me.

then again, she had my sisters first, so it wasn't a huge surprise to find that my shyness threw her off.

she was used to getting calls from elementary school teachers who explained, time and time again, that my sisters were way too chatty and knowledgeable for their own good (as they were both the kind to tell the others how babies were made and how babies were unmade. abortion. in the 2nd grade.).

when i came along, she was sure the calls would stop.

as a baby, i never so much as whimpered for food.

so one day, when i was in kindergarten, and a teacher actually did call home, my mother was taken aback.

she came into my room to talk to me.

"Beekie?" she said, sweetly.

"...Yes?" the unusual gentleness in her voice was a little unnerving.

"Ah you unhappy?"

"...No...I don't think so...why?"

"Yoh teacha call to tell me dat she's worried because uh you habn't said a word in 6 months."

Is that strange? i thought.

"Beekie," she started again, "You hap to staht talking, okay? Oddawise people gonna sink yoh weird. Nobody like shy people, okay? So work on dat."

i was horrified.

it didn't help that, as i was growing up, i had my sisters to compete with.

they were flippin' verbal beasts.

they've always had something witty or passionate or eloquent to say about anything you could think of.

they can make a flippin platypus sound poetic.

no offense to the platypus.

but i mean.

i'm hotter than the platypus.

on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the platypus and 10 being, like, Kate Winslet, i'm at least a bulldog.

like a 4.

but maybe i'm not giving bulldogs enough credit.

the way they walk.

always like they're headed someplace with a purpose.

doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot.

my walk's a little less doot-doot-oriented.

for as long as i can remember, really, i've waddled.

less a doot-doot and more a whop-whop.

i don't hate my walk anymore, though.

not as much as i did when i was a kid, anyway.

little kids are ass-holes.

i used to get teased to no end.

kids'd follow me around the playground, mimicking my walk.

call me Waddles.

i'd always play and laugh along, like it didn't bother me, but Little Vickie had feelings, too.

once, when i was about 10, my dad noticed that i looked a little down.

"Whatsamatter, Vickie?"

"Oh, nothing," i sighed.

"C'mon, you can tell me."

"Well...I waddle."

"...And?"

i sighed in despair again.

"Go on," he added, hastily.

"The other kids tease me, but I can't help it."

"Oh, well, Vickie, that's no big deal. You know, one of the greatest comedians of all time waddled."

being that at this point i'd already been telling anyone who'd listen that i was going to grow up and be just like Ellen Degeneres, this was a pleasant surprise.

"Really?!"

"Yeah!"

he went out and rented Charlie Chaplin's The Gold Rush and watched it with me.

the second that little tramp waddled his way into frame, i knew i was in love.

that i'd found my kindred.

i was obsessed.

the following Halloween i dressed up as the tramp.

all of the kids in the neighborhood had no clue who i was, but the old people treated me special.

slipped me extra candy.

gave me high-fives.

greeted me with a, "Hey, Charlie!"

things were going great and my waddle was the last thing on my mind.

until i got to the last house.

the little old lady who lived there greeted me with a big smile and, like the others, several extra Snickers.

i was feeling good.

i turned and made my way down her path back to my parents.

"Hey!" she cried, suddenly.

i turned back around, expecting more praise.

"You even WALK like him!"

i don't think she knew it was unintentional.

for a second, my heart sank with the memories of my playground bullies, but then i remembered my Chaplin.

and waddled on.

24. holy libido!

it's embarrassing, that fluttering feeling i get in my tummy when i'm Googling and catch things like, "Emma Stone is a lesbian."

guilt.

and hope.

but.

i don't know if i've ever had that feeling of wanting to "sex" someone.

when i first saw Easy A, i thought to myself, Oh, man. I bet she'd be a really great little spoon.

my libido is stupid.

or it would be if i had one.

sometimes it feels like i gotta Pokemon that shiz.

catch it, i mean.

evolve it.

give it a cute name like Libidomon or Friskymon and bust it out of an undersized ball when the right grooves are playing and for the kind of person my Gym Leader warned me about.

...in the meantime, i have to get over myself and realize that, when i go out to bars or parties, not everyone i meet is going to be all up for hooking up in a purely - literally - Biblical sense, where legs are clapped shut and the only thing i'm looking for is a good cuddle.

it's weird how strong this need to cuddle is.

i'm cuddle-horny.

corny.

so much so that when i see someone like Emma Stone i say, "Boy, would I wanna cuddle her bones. Just get right up in there and SNUGGLE."

hot damn.

maybe i should pay someone.

23. side effects of old journal entries: flushing, a bad case of the heebie-jeebies.

i'm finally coming to the end of my first-ever completed journal.

last night, i decided to go back and revisit some of those undoubtedly cringeworthy notes, jokes, and, yes, even lyrics. i also decided it was high-time i share some with you.

feel free to laugh and/or hold them against me.

here we go:

1. the first entry

Attempt #? at trying to start/maintain a journal.

-> Optimism: thinking, against all odds, that my life will somehow be interesting enough to fill these pages (or, at least, more interesting than before).

Maybe if I do this my way (just for me), it'll be better.

And someday I will sell it for MILLIONS.

[insert 2 poorly drawn dollar signs in green and with "3D" shadowing] -> (sidenote) I'm going to start doodling, too, so when people discover this in the future they'll think, "My God! An artist, too! So trendy! She must get all the ladies!"

[break]

Theory/Fact:
Any/all famous artists, no matter what their actual histories must have been, can always re-evalutate [->(sidenote) I can't spell, though "evalutate" does have a nice ring to it)] and reimagine their pasts. And they do. Should, really, because, let's face it: the biggest trend I see (or pretend to see) is that truly great artists were once HUGE weenies.

It's inevitable.

Non-weenies can't produce great art.

They have no need to.

In every artist's past, there is a bespectacled, buck-toothed, awkward teenager, itching to get a mini-journal published.

FACT.

[break]

I'm probably mostly kidding about this, though. About the money and ladies thing, I mean.

[end.]

2. my current situation

1. At USC, biding my time.

2. 20 years old, 3rd year of college.

3. In a relationship??!!!

4. Getting in touch with my pissy side. Unfortunate timing for my first-ever girlfriend.

5. Hungry, waiting for her to wake up so we can have what will, at this hour, be lunch.

6. Loving the fact that the "artistic" aspect of this journal is failing so wonderfully. Although, the ink blot stains on my hand make me feel so much more artistic and creative and bohemian, which is good enough for me.

[break]

I'm not a very good person.

At least, that's what a number of people who are currently in my life must be thinking.

I am, actually, very flawed.

But who isn't?

So cliche, but so true.

I don't even know why I'm ranting about this right now, actually.

[end.]

3. painfully embarrassing lyrics

"Heavy Heart"

Inky hands scratching away
Making the words I can't say

Your love isn't lost on me, darling
I'm just in an unworthy state

But this love makes my heart heavy
I can't stand or see or speak

For your own sake, darling
Try to run away.

[and the alternate lyrics:]

You're locked up in a prison cell
I wanna set you free

Got the key here in my pocket, love,
Now make like a tree and leave.

...hahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

oh holy Jeebus.

that was painful to read.

you're welcome!

22. sex is weird.

i'm actually not gonna start this post off with sex.

the title was just a ploy to reeeeeel you in.

and you see, it worked!

perv.

(fear not, though: awkward observations about sex are to come.

...hahahaha.

...gross.

sorry.)

anywho!

what i will start off with is the fact that my triple-threat status as an ethnic, queer woman gets a lot of weird reactions.

brown and yellow people take one look at my gayness and say, "eeeeeeesh."

gays/overly politically correct and activist lesbians take one look at my iffy hue and go, "oooooooo."

straight guys look at everything and say, "YESSSSSS."

hm.

i've never really understood that whole "straight guy fascination with lesbian sex" thing.

maybe it's because, for me, the mystery's gone.

er, actually, the mystery is still very much there, as the reality of the situation is that sex is downright confusing.

don't get me wrong, i hardly regret anything.

it's just.

hot damn.

my first time was...right.

we'd talked about it, prepared for it, we really cared about each other, we were sober...

it was right.

but holy Jeebus.

there were moments when i kind of wished i was at least a little drunk.

had some liquid courage.

didn't apologize every few seconds for being awkward or doing awkward things.

didn't make things more awkward than they needed to be by apologizing for being awkward.

straight guys/guys in general don't know how easy they have it.

lucky douches.

if there's one thing i've learned in the past year, it's that women are weird.

and complicated.

and the fact that i'm one of them doesn't make things any easier.

if anything, it's more terrifying to think that the other person might be able to read my thoughts or something.

or might know or understand something about me that i don't even know or understand.

women are weird and complicated and scary.

i would know: i come from a long line of them.

and i take after my dad.

[to be continued. sorry for the abrupt ending.

that's what he said!]

21. i am a grown-up.

oops.

i don't know how it happened.

when it happened.

how or why i let it happen.

it just happened.

not "just" as in i only very recently made the jump from perfectly, acceptably a-little-too-nerdy Harry Potter nerd to a kind of weird, gerascophobic dork with zero intent to let go of nostalgia; "just" as in the Forces That Be must've had all of this in mind from the very beginning.

and there's nothing i can do to stop it.

this isn't necessarily a bad thing, i guess.

i mean, i definitely wouldn't've wanted the agonizingly self-absorbed and emo teen years to have gone on any longer than they did.

...although i would've preferred a little more time to develop my awesome.

or at least to find it.

seriously.

if there's one thing that's unnerving about this whole grown-up business it's that i have no idea where to draw any of the new lines.

like the line between what's Cool and what's Too Cool for Someone My Age.

or the line between Age-Appropriate and Creepy.

lately i've been taking into account, more and more, the things that i say and think and do.

the kinds of things that i was sure made me, me, but now, i worry, make me wildly immature:

1. my undying love for Harry Potter.

2. my undying love for bad jokes.

3. my unlimited supply of graphic tees (according to friends, this is why i still get carded at movie theatres).

4. my tendency to giggle a little too much at inappropriate times.

5. my relationship issues/indecisiveness.

6. my Goonies poster (which features The Truffle Shuffle).

7. my cringeworthy journal entries.

8. my tendency to pine and whine about "crushes."

9. the fact that i get "crushes."

10. my favorite words: douche and fancy.

11. my booze-induced hiccups.

12. my tendency to blush when talking to someone on whom i have a "crush."

13. my use of "on whom," which only speaks to my need to dazzle "adults" with my "grammar."

14. the fact that i just made myself laugh with the overuse of quotation marks.

15. Mariah Carey's "One Sweet Day" is one of the top 25 played songs in my iTunes.

---

but the more i think about this - as i write this blogpost (so i apologize if the sudden shift in this posting is as jarring and poorly timed as that unfortunate age-up) - the more i begin to justify my actions and interests.

and maybe that's the key to successfully crossing through the sacred gateway that is Adulthood?

not the changes in said actions and interests, but the reasons behind them?

or at least the way you re-word said reasons for actual grown-ups you run into at actual grown-up parties.

for example:

1. the Harry Potter series very warmly, creatively, and accurately expresses the ever-essential themes of growing up and unconditional love and its triumph over all evil.

...and i can't wait to read it to my future children.

because they're children's books.

and i don't still read them for myself.

unless i'm just, you know, re-jazzing up the idea of reading it to my future children.

and only then.

2. hipsters think bad jokes are hip.

because commercial people just can't appreciate them.

3. ...skip.

4. sorry, i was thinking about something very legitimately and age-appropriately funny just now.

5. i transcend society's idea of monogamy.

and i really don't like contributing to capitalist-driven economy that is based on arbitrary "choices."

6. because i'm so grown up and "with it," this poster is okay because it shows that i have a fun side.

7. what cringeworthy journal entries?

8. bitches trifle.

9. skip.

10. "the fact that my favorite word choices are non-sequitur makes me unique and edgy."

11. eff you!

12. blaming the booze i am adult enough to consume in public places.

13. i read.

14. see #4.

15. that's how long ago my youth is.

and so on and so forth.

convincing, eh?

(in all honesty, this is a very select and small sampling of all of the things i'm sure don't do much for the elusive Grown-Upness.

(but maybe, on a more serious note, maybe the more grown-up thing to do would be to take all of this for what it is, and accept me for me.)

by jove! you've just witnessed some life-learnin' magic!

so did i!

magic.

...gotta go read.)

20. people have weird thoughts.

i'm currently writing a screenplay-ish-type-thing about cankles.

cankles, you ask?

yes.

one of the most arbitrary physical traits that beautiful people seem to obsess over when looking for something to obsess over.

the basic plotline for this story centres around a newly thin young woman who, after going out for a celebratory shopping spree and tattoo, comes home to see her own set of ankles featured on a late-night news story about the spreading epidemic that is cankles.

is?

are?

i hate grammar.

anywho.

in honor of this soon-to-be-finished-but-actually-started-once-this-writer's-block-disappears, i've decided to lay down a number of weird insecurities i've encountered in my shortish, longish 21 years of living.

some of them might be my own.

in fact, yes.

most of them probably are.

1. stinky feet.

i have notoriously stinky feet, but no matter how many de-odorizers i apply, the stench perseveres.

which is why i tend to sit cross-legged at other people's homes when i'm shoeless.

so now you know.

2. being bendy.

i don't know.

whenever i feel like i'm in dire need of impressing someone, i feel the need to show-off my bendiness.

like that one time in middle school when i wanted to impress a girl at a sleepover and volunteered to sleep in a very cramped closet when it was decided that there wasn't enough room for everyone on the floor.

luckily, no one took me up on it.

but i mean.

i still felt bad about not being able to show them how bendy i was.

3. having disproportionate limbs.

yes.

this one isn't necessarily mine, unless you count my need to mention my large love-handles at least once in awkward conversation, but i have been made to lend a patient ear to those who are deeply concerned about the lengths and dimensions of their body parts.

i don't know if i just lack that special skill to see just how much shorter or longer certain arms and legs can be, but i honestly can't even see it most of the time.

4. two of my toes on my right foot are practically melded together.

not webbed.

but my middle toe and the one closest to the pinkie pretty much bend into each other.

almost like they're spooning.

when i was little i was so insecure about this that i tried to train my toes to separate.

i'd hold them apart.

or put a ball of tissue between them.

they still spoon, but now i can do this weird trick where i can pull them apart into what looks like piano hands.

piano toes.

and now i have to worry about people knowing about this...

5. not having anything witty to say.

i hate it when that happens.

i feel like i'm letting people down.

and when i find that i have nothing wittastic to say, i tend to laugh louder than i should and say something awkward and obvious, like, "Exactly," or, "Word."

or i just repeat the last comment in different words.

i'm pretty sure i have a special talent for making people feel slightly uncomfortable.

6. my left toes are clearly longer than my right toes.

yeah.

that's all i have to say about that one.

7. i'm a hypocrite for having mentioned my toe lengths not too long after talking about people's weird obsession with limb length.

8. when other people have weird talents that i don't.

or talents that're weirder than mine.

like completely bending a hand backward so that it touches the wrist.

or touching the tip of the nose with the tongue.

when i was about 5 i started to train myself to do the belly wave like Garth and the ear wiggle like my dad.

i even went so far as to teach myself to do the wave, wiggle, and a number of other tricks at the same time.

at the dinner table.

9. sloppy eating.

in fact, when i'm eating i'm so deeply concerned about how messy i am that i end up making even more of a mess.

in a way more awkward way than need be.

like when i try to not slurp up the noodles, i just end up trying to do this odd maneuver of leaning too far over the dinner table trying to politely bite through the too tough noodles that end up on either my face or my pants.

10. my sleeptalking.

apparently i do it.

and i'm always so worried that i'll reveal or say something about someone in close proximity.

or reveal one of my secrets.

or something in my subconscious.

like how deeply concerned i am about Ellen Page's potential lesbianism...

and that's about all i've got for now.

i'll be sure to update this list as soon as i've thought of more.

in the meantime, if anyone has a request or an idea for an insecurity i can write about, feel free to fill me in!

i might even start taking requests at this point.

seeing as how i'm blocked up and whatnot.

seriously.

if you've got writer's laxative to offer up, dish it out.

bye.

19. being yellow and brown means i get to pick and choose.

childhood was a confusing time for me.

and for others.

am i brown?

am i yellow?

Samoan?

the only real conclusion people have been able to draw about me is that i'm not white.

sometimes i'm tempted to start a betting pool or one of those carnival stands for rounds of "Guess My Race."

it took a long time before i realized, "Hey, I'm the future."

but it wasn't just the Bennetton coloration of my skin that drove me nuts: it was what was supposed be going on under the surface, too.

what do yellow people do?

what do brown people do?

again, it took just a little while before i was able to come to terms with the fact that i could choose.

here's a list of apparent Yellow Dos and Don'ts:
1. doing math.
2. doing science.
3. playing violin.
4. not driving.
5. not whispering.
6. not letting things go.
7. haggling.
8. not waiting.


and here's a collection of Brown ones:
1. low-riding.
2. cat-calling/making white women feel uncomfortable.
3. being in a place where i don't belong.
4. not doing math.
5. not doing science.
6. not practicing safe sex.
7. dancing.
8. not speaking English.

hmmm.

the selection here is pretty much just a small sampling of the things i've observed and been told while growing up.

so which ones apply to me?

do i get to pick and choose?

do other people get to pick and choose?

it certainly felt that way when i was little.

if i got anything lower than an A on a test, at least a couple of people would say that i must've been having a brown day.

if i managed to do well, people assumed it was because of my yellowness.

seems to me like there's something of a contradiction coursing through my veins, making up my double-helix.

if i follow the lists above, i could very well be a loud-mouthed, impatient gangsta who also happens to be a virtuoso.

or a medical student with hydraulics and a sex offender record.

and things got even more complicated when i threw the lesbian thing into the mix.

can i really care about the environment while driving a low-rider SUV around LA?

would my yellow-driven need for perfection really go with the laidback, hippie-dippy hipster feel of my 21st century lifestyle?

do parasols really go that well with wifebeaters and tattoos of obscure musical and literary references?

i'm at a loss.