the truth about charlee

fuct

2006-07-21T10:59:00.000-07:00

malini wants to move out.

she tried to hide it from me but she was fucking mistaken for lying to me. she got engaged to the lawyer. theirs a huge ring hanging around her neck. it's probably 4carrots or something.

what'm i gunna do? where will i live?

the truth about charlee

2006-06-06T10:53:00.000-07:00

i'm back. i think.

2006-01-17T12:21:00.000-08:00

i'm back somehowe.

i finally got marina to agree to pay for for the damn internet service.

more later ig uess.

sometimes

2005-06-28T11:16:00.000-07:00

i wish i could be one of those leggy bitches who have blonde hair and green eyes like ginger ale bottles.

i wish i could sing because other than my last name no songs come out of me; and if i ever get married no songs will ever come out of me.

i wish i could wear stillettoes without stumbling at least once in the coarse of a night.

i wish i could speak without swearing and talk with the eloquence of someone who reads constantly and finished college.

i wish i could write the book i always wanted to write and not have to worry about my shitty ass grammar.

i wish i could be ambitious enough to finish school. i wish i could be ambitious enough to find that nich i have always been looking for and the degree to match it.

i wish i could follow through.

i wish i could stop running away from things that are good for me.

i wish i could stop thinking of the people around me as taking my friendship as a pity case and see the empathy and love they so claim to have for me.

i wish i could be taller.

i wish i had bigger eyes.

i wish i could draw and paint and sew and be creative without having to mess anything up.

i wish i could play the violin.

i wish i could play the cello.

i wish i could sit down and play a videogame from start to finish and never once lose interest.

sometimes i wish i had more resolve, more mettle, more courage, more tenacity, more fucking balls.

sometimes i wish i just had some consistance.

but then if i had all those things, would i still be charlie song?

i never felt clean and sober

2005-06-14T11:20:00.000-07:00

maeko emailed me the link to an album by her new musical crush anya marina called "miss halfway". it's a fucking good lay of a song if you know what i mean. and i'm sure you do. it just felt so pertanent at this moment, yknow?

i bet you all been wondering where i've been lately after that last dramatic weepy post. i've been seeing someone and when you're having sex on a regular basis and going out and stuff like that you just don't feel like spending all of yer time on the internet. i mean bloggers are a certain breed of people yknow what i mean? we spend all our time on the internet documenting our sorrows our griefs, our rediculous notions passed off as intelligence just because we happen to be "internet journalists" or whatever. i don't care what your beef is. you think you're smarter just because you happen to keep a log of whatever it is you think people will care bout and the only one who really cares about it is you.

which is why i don't bother posting much. i'm off living my life and being happy about it.

there's something creepy about new boy. i'll call him dyme for how we met. we both saw a teensy little coin shining on the street in the winter chill and we knocked heads ducking to pick it up. i hope i don't let it slip that i have a blog or else he'll think i'm some emopsycho. if you didn't see it, people are total freaks and psychoes whenever romance hits. it's an automatic transformation. so back to dyme. he's creeping me out. he's ... normal. there's nothing wrong with him other than that he totally reminds me of my exboyfriend harris. they both play guitar and learned to nirvana but happen to like the old folkish pop lul sound of jack johnson or dave matthews. they like to smoke after sex or over a cup of coffee. they both have a scar on their face somewhere. same cologne.

i am enough of a nuerotic mess for romantic ventures. it doens't help that every relationship i ever get into either has to fall into a dramatic epick mess i can't clean up or they turn into total sociopaths and stalk me or turn all the peole in the club scene against me. jana was like that. she couldn't take that i liked looking at boys at the same time and so she found other ways to make my life hell. she's one of the reasons i don't like hanging out at clubs anymore. that bitch ruined everything. half my friends dropped off the face of the planet after her. you know who your friends are if they choose the prettier girl over you. my romantic life has been one mess after another and another. it's never been pretty. except with harris.

so i know that something had to go wrong with this new guy dyme.

why is it that no romance ever works out for me? something has to fall to pieces. i wasn't ready to move in w/ harris. i wasn't going anywhere with my life and he was on his way to a great great partnership at the lawfirm he works at. i think i heard something from derek who still keeps in touch with harris: harris made junior partner. and he's only 29. he must be pleased. making 6 figures a year and drives a mercedes. he was heartbroken that i couldn't foresee myself living with him and making babies and gearing our relationship toward something more serious like mariage or something. he didn't get it. i'm not a career woman. i'm not going to be a mother. i'm not the kind of girl who can date seriously someone who drives a car that's worth more than i make in a year. he didn't get it. i was an embarassment to everything he stood for and was. i wasn't ready for that kind of step when i wans't good enough for it. so he broke up with me.

i needed him. he made me feel like nothing was wrong with life. he made me feel for once that i had a home. but ... i just couldn't be with someone like that when i wasn't anywhere capable of giving him what he gave me. so he left me.

and after that it was like a bad addiction. i've never been clean and sober from harris. i've never been clean and sober in relationships. i've always left pieces of them inside me. residue. soap scum in my insides. i'm never totally weaned from someone and then the next mess starts. i tried to rid myself of the tracks he left on me by dating several other people after him. it's been two years and i've dated like 8 people since him. the only one who seemed to really put a dent in the addiction to harris was jana and then she turned freakazoid on me. maybe it's me.

so now i meet dyme and he seems so normal. so wonderful. i feel safe near him. and then after a few weeks i see the similarities between him and harris. the addiction starts to set in again. it's not like those stupid fucking movies where you see the face of your loved one everywhere you go, but i see similarities and familiarities in things they do, in things i smell, in things they say.

he says i have nothing to worry about and i feel so secure and protected and then after that the fear sets in that this is harris all over again. that i'm going to fuck this one up again.

marina says that's what's going to fuck it up.

i told you. i've never been clean and sober. never. maybe that's what he likes about me. i'm so fragmented. maybe i'm the kind of girl he needs. the girl that needs a knight to take her away.

anya is a genius.

"i never felt so clean and sober, but i gotta black and blue hangover, darlin for you, darlin i do."

time to recount

2005-06-01T20:02:00.000-07:00

these last few weeks have been such a fucking bore. i've become so much more bored and dissatisfied with the world. when i get bored of outside, i close up and stay inside and i don't mean just literally either. how many days have i been mia anyway? i lost count.

what's my deal? well after talking with henry, who believes its absolutely necessary to be in touch with your feelings to constantly excess your emotions and blahblahblah (what a woman...) we spent all last week over sushi dinners, bottomless cups of coffee and dancling to strange electroclash and the gay man's music of choice... house. henry was tired of me being a pouty-pants as he put it so eloquintly. in cushy lounge chairs or red plush booths sipping on posh grily drinks like cosmopolitans and sex on the beachs that henry so loves i was pouring my heart out. and i don't do that shit for just anyone anytime. i hate being gushy. i like being all mad and moody and what not, but having to talk about it is the ultimate torture. okay not my heart, i wasn't pouring my heart. i'm much better at bitching than i am at expressing the inner most feelings of my "shallow heart" (henry's words). that's why as best friends henry and me operate so fucking good. i ignore what's in my heart but i'm fucking fun and accept him for who he is (his parents disowned him when he came out.. damn chinese...damn asians) and he accepts me for who i am but will call me on it when i compromise choosing what's best for me. he's also a big girl and emotional so he naturally makes a great counseler. he can delve into my head and come up with the problems plauging me.

so this week and last was filled with lost of dancing and sushi dinners and mock jedi fights at the dinner table with our chopsticks and expensive internationally imported gormet (sp?) coffees. henry's worried about me again. someone who grew up with a family that obviously wasn't hers, dropped out of college after legally changing her name back to it's ethnic original and then works as a secretary for low salary and no desire to progress... well, that's how he described me in that condesending, sad tone of voice. fuck you henry. you had to bring it up again.

i hate it when i think about this.

but i guess you're going to have to hear about it.

i'm lonely. i miss my family. i miss my mother karen who named me charleen after her mother when they adopted me and wouldn't tell me why they adopted me when they already had a daughter. i miss my father peter who has salt and pepper hair and helped me to do my math equations in secondary school. i miss kyla my sister. she's two yaers older than me. she is married and moved with her husband to sydney, australia. i don't talk to her much because the phone bill is fucking expensive and she hates to do email. she was my best friend growing up. she defended me from the rascist assholes in grammar school who kept telling me to go the fuck back to china. she taught me how to throw a punch properly and it was my brother derek who taught me to never throw the first punch. at least i don't hit like a girl.

sometimes tho, i miss my family. my other family. the ones that dissappeared after i was born and gave me away before i knew the sound of their voices. when i was a little girl i used to make up stories in my head about them. my omma ("mother" in korean i think) mom is a lawyer who thought of giving up the practice to have a family. my obba ("father") dad was a doctor in a rich hospital somewhere. he delivered me with his bare hands and a nurse stole me because she wanted a yellow baby but she was caught in canada and the nameless child (me) had to be put up for adoption. that's when my parents karen and peter found me. but i never gave up thinking one day a knock on my door would produce my korean doctor father who would claim me as his and i could go into a family where i knew i wasn't different from everyone else.

but my obba never came. my omma never called. i grew up with my white family and love them feircely, even though they never once told me at all why they felt they had to adopt me even though they were able to have kids on there own. i still wonder if mom and dad are searching for me.

now the family i got are malini and henry and sometimes derek comes into town to visit his big sister. i do his laundry for him and scratch his back while i tell him to find a wife who'll do that shit for him.

someone like me who doesn't care about moving forward or anything else... i have alot of time to think on where i've been in the past and wonder and wish that i wasn't so hurt and confused about who i am and who i am not for so long. i guess i live my life so backward i can never get anywhere. i keep waiting for the rescue of loved ones who never fucking come.

maybe they forgot about charlee. i sometimes think i forgot myself.

loozah

2005-05-24T16:32:00.000-07:00

i feel like such a loser for complaining last week. i mean i really was tired and sick and grumpy and i was pmsing, but still... that's no excuse.

lately nothing much hs happened other than hanging out with henry and the gang and shit.

i'll get into things later.

oh, i think i might've met someone...

i'm more emo than all of you combined, bitches

2005-05-21T14:38:00.000-07:00

i hate my life. i hate being a woman. i'd rather be a man. they have it so fucking easy they don't even know.

they get to pee standing up. and they don't bleed for days on end unless they have leukemia.

also, they don't need to hear that they're pretty at least once a day. and when i'm not pretty i won't hear it. christ no i won't hear it. not even from marina who is supposed to be my best friend and knows when i feel ugly. right? fuck no.

fuck fuck fuck fuck. did i mention i hate being a woman? i hate hate hate hate hate it.

ps. i'm bloated and fat and ugly and someone rolled over my favourite heel with their grocery cart today at the market and it makes me wish that the whole fucking world would fucking die. you, you die! thanks.

late

2005-05-17T17:05:00.000-07:00

i'm staying late at work just to finish this blog and push around a few more pieces of paperwork that need to be paper-peon'd. yeah.

so i've been feeling like rubbish lately and i don't know why. meany malini won't indulge me by making more indian food for my poorly aling stomach and i don't have enough in the bank to just splurge on some useless empty stomach binge. but man pudding is cheap. i keep nagging marina to go get some just to make me feel better and then she goes and tells me to go stuff a fucking rock in it beceause i'd be the only eating that shit and i should pay for it accordingly. ok SURE if you want to be totally reasonable. but i don't. i've been feeling like shit.

i think it's my imune system fucking with me. marina doesn't think that i get enough sleep during the week and even less during the weekend because i play the fucking housewife around here and clean the apartment nonstop once saturday morning hits while marina is sleeping off her previous night's hangover or something. she's stopped bugging me to come party with her ever since i decided to throw all her dirty, vomitty, nasty-ass laundrey on her bed while she was passed out. when she woke up and started freaking out i yelled at her "that's what you want me to go out with you and end up smelling like? fuck no! and clean your own fucking vomit off the floor next time!" though I still end up cleaning it for her when she gets back. i always wait up for her. dunno why. i guess it's not really a fun idea to be awakened by clicking heels, drunken groans and someone vomitting on the floor next to the door or toilet and then stumbling around the apartment drunker than sin and shit. so i just wait up, drink a glass of wine and then sleep when she does. better than waking up and getting all grumpy.

i do party on occasion. i mean, i love people. i love going out and socialising but not in a club environment unless i really do aim to get drunk and watch guys hit on me, in which case i'll tell them i'm gay unless one of them is totally hot. there are a lot of good looking guys here in vancouver, but all of them are fucking asian, and there's two fucking asians in my house already and i don't need another one in my bed.

plus, don't they have small penises? i've only had a few penises in my life time, like maybe 6 or so and the rest were all girls. it was alright but i have yet to experience a cock that's rocked my world.

anyway i didn't get much sleep this weekend and i don't on any other weekend, either and i guess it's starting to really great on my body's defenses. i probably sleep bout four to five hours a night tops. i guess it's starting to wreck havoc inside me and i need to get rest. my stomach is killing me and my tongue is all white and splotchy and what not. i should've gone home earlier today but i just felt like staying and playing a good employee for once.

once i get home i think i'll call henry and have him come over and baby me. marina doesn't get home from her office until sometimes well after 8 and she usually stops for drinks on the way home with some of her office mates. is she a lawyer? i thought she works in insurance. she won't tell me. she hates bringing the office home, she says. i'm getting paid overtime for this, anyway. alt+tab is a tricky little thing that makes them think i'm actually doing work. well, i am kinda. there's papers i'm doing in between blogging. it's 5:30 already?! fuck.

that's it. henry's coming over and he's going to make me miso soup and sushi and feed this crappy thing that's bothering me. i wonder if he'll tell me the most recent developments with his new man toy?

sometimes i feel like i'm not doing anything useful with my life. i should know. i'm a blogger. hahah.

sneak attack

2005-05-14T20:03:00.000-07:00

i ambushed marina in bed last night. i sat by it, waiting for her to come home from the club. i didn't want to go with her last night. i hate the club. it's packed full of people who don't have any respect for women who don't want that kind of attention. i go all ugly, too. i go with shirts with sleaves. i guess that's some sort of taboo in the club scene. whatever, that gives me a perfect excuse to act more gay than i already am.

anyway i sat by her bed, waiting for her to return home from a night of sweating away on the dance floor. it was nice just sitting in the darkness letting the night air calm my nerves. i mean it was a long week and i had some stress because the rent payment is coming up soon. so i sat there thinking to myself for a long time, just sitting in the dark, the cool of the windows hitting my bear chest. i felt really relaxed. and then when i heard marina's heels reverberaeting down the hall, my heart began to pound in its cage, like a bird fluttering against it's prisin bars.

i waited for marina to go to the bathroom and clean the night from her face, wiping sweat from her arms and tired skin. she removed her clothes in her closet and threw them haphazerdly into the basket, kicked her heels off and let them fly wherever not bothering to pick them up. i'd have to do that in the morning, probably. i always end up cleaning the house up in the morning while i cook her breakfast. the same breakfast every morning. well, almost every morning. i alternate between two different types of breakfast. occaisionally i'll throw it up and maybe make a third different one, but not usually. i hate it when she comes back from the club. i'll end up having to pick up clothes from all over the most random places in the apartment. it's not like when we're having sex. we remove our clothes and shove them over the edge of the bed.

she was still sweating. i could see the neon orange of the streetlights reflecting off the sweat in her hair. it was drenched. totally wet. she was just wearing a bra and panties. the ones i had bought her with the last of my last paycheck. she likes to make me happy with the little things i get her sometimes. she makes up for all the little knick knacks i buy her with making me food for most of the week. although we trade a couple weeks here and there cooking, she does most of it, and pays for the food, too.

as she crawled into bed i pownced.

i jumped on her, while screaming like an indian. she shreaked and slammed a pillow down on me and then realised it was me. zooks. she's like a banshee when she's freaked out!

anyway, i scared the fucking shit outta her and it was great. after that, we stayed up talking the whole night, what was left of it, anyway. then she kissed my breasts and i went refused to go back to my bed and she let me snuggle against her until we both fell asleep.

it's nice having a roommate who knows just what to do after you have a bad week.

today i hung out with henry, who supposedly has a new boyfriend, but he refuses to tell anything until something more juicy happens. i think he's waiting for the first time they have sex before he tells me anything. sorta like waiding thru the waters.. testing i guess. henry's such a size queen. you shouldn't be so particular when you haven't had dick in two years, man.

anyway. i'm just rambling now.

Who, Me?

2005-05-12T16:35:00.000-07:00

after all these years of blogging, i've forgotten what it's like to constantly be attached to the internet fields. it's like waiding or something through virtual yards and yards of information. but then, it's also like looking into someone else's life and living it for your own without having to leave the seat of your office chair or set foot outside your house. you know?

so with that not making any sense at all let me just paint a picture of who i am for you so you don't have to worry about it later.

i am twenty four. i am a college drop out. i was pursuing journalism, but i figured that man i really hate writing, i have poor grammar and spelling and all that jazz and i'm just a fucking lazy fuck. and i say "fuck" too much. i tried writing a paper once, and i kept putting "fuck" in there. i... decided to not turn it in. i like the word. i liked the word in my paper. it wouldn't have passed with it in there. i mean, talk about proliferating.

i'm korean. i don't know jack about my own culture. neither do my parents. they're not korean. i'm adopted and therefore no nothing about korean other than what my friend's mothers tell me. i've learned somehow through pain-in-the-ass discovery processes that my last name is song and that my mother was one of the most beautiful women that ever dawned a hanbok (which is like the korean equivalent of a japanese kimono). i've learned about the traditional popular foods like kimchee and bul go gee (korean barbeque beef) and how to hold a pair of chopsticks. i don't know the language other than that it's called hangeul (hong-goohl) in korean. i maybe know how to say thank you and good bye and shit like that. something like kkahm-sah-ham-nida.. or something like that.

i don't know anything about my father. for all i know, he's dead. my father now is german. he didn't get angry like i expected him to when i legally changed my last name to song from ... well, my old last name isn't important.

so i'm 24, college drop out and korean but not. i work in publishing. but i'm just a secretary, paper peon without a hope to really go anywhere in the company and i don't know why i stick around for so long for such low pay an struggling to make rent every month. which is where my roommate comes in.

her name is marina. well not really. it's really malini but she hates her name. she says she likes to think of herself as truly canadian aka NORTH AMERICAN because all the fucks living in canada pretty much want to live in america anyway right? wrong! who'd want to live there while bush pretty much rules the country. does anyone realise that the country looks like the world's biggest asshole with him at the helm? c'mon! sooooo... malini. she's 25. indian. tall, willowy and gorgeous little fucker. she's probably the most beautiful women i know. she works in insurance, but she'll never talk to me about her job, so all i know is that she makes a lot of money, gets angry at her job, takes care of most of the rent, and when frustrated will let me suck her tits. it's a good deal for me, anyway.

so she's not much of a lesbian, and then again i like boys too. but seeing a woman angry, that's just hot stuff right there. and any man can agree with me.

we've been roommates since i was 22 and i don't think she or i really want to change anything, other than marina would wish that i'd make more money and i wish she's cook more indian food, but she likes soy burgers and nothing with meat and stuff like that, so i suffer a little. hey, she gives me a break on rent, i can't complain.

anything else i'm missing?

oh yeah. i'm at work right now. so i probably shouldn't keep this too long. i'll be gone in ten minutes! outta here. then to hit the hookah and watch marina dance around the kitchen with nothing on but an apron. next week's my week to cook. i wonder what she'll make me wear.

work

2005-05-11T13:27:00.000-07:00

so, i fell asleep at work today. my arms were resting on the keyboard and my fingers were typing some unimportant document. well, i'm sure it was an important letter to the person i'll be sending it to. it was telling them that the company had rejected their submission for an ad and that though we appreciated their consideration for our company to print their writing, that we were not accepting their admission at this time. well, honestly, i don't appreciate their consideration for our company to print their crap. i mean, i'm sure it was some spectacular shit, or something like that, but i'm just a secretary, do i really care about this job? no. and i don't care about the idiots who think they can write who send in their shit to us to get published in the mag. sometimes i want to take a little liberty with the rejection letters i send to these retards.

dear sir:
you are a certain cretin totally lacking any visible writing talents. please give up and go suck on a rock or something because that would be more a valuable occupation of your time.
ps. we will not be publishing your work in our magazine. have a nice life.

that would be a riot! hell, fuck yeah. but i can't do anything like that. i'm just a lowly secretary. almost a scribe to be writing tripe like this for people with no faces. i just wait for my smoke break. it's like meeting an old friend after such long anticipation. and when i bring the papered end to my mouth and inhale, it feels so freeing. i can forget the last hour or two in a few simple puffs. i like the way the blue smoke halos over my head. the only bother is mussing my lipgloss. but i can always reapply that shit.

so i woke up at my keyboard and my supervisor standing over me shaking her head sadly. she said i really should get more sleep. "it's like you're a writer like the people in this office, char. but you're not, and you're on a 9-5 and we need you to get your sleep so you can do your job." then she spun on her $200 pumps and walked away still shaking her blonde little head. well, no warning. no written paper in my file. i guess that's okay.

and then i get to go home and warm up the hookah and watch more blue smoke curling in wreaths above my head while i read a book after i cook myself and marina (my roommate and sometimes lover) a dinner.

this life isn't so bad, i guess.

and maybe tomorrow i can sneak a fake letter in there to another reject. it'll be my first ambush. we'll see.

beginning

2005-05-11T11:23:00.000-07:00

i came back to the world of blogging because of her.

this is going to be intresting. brought back from a hiatus by a weird girl. but i like her.