I'm back in the land that God built (with His bare hands!)
I took a notebook along to write down little thoughts here and there so I could have this stuff ready to share upon my triumphant return. But really, who gives a shit how I spent my summer vacation? Hell, most of it is just incoherent psycho babble spewed forth from my "hormone deranged mind". I bet I can recreate most of it off the top of my head. Don't read if you don't care would be good advice if it wasn't obvious.
Key Points:
1. China is fucking dirty. Everyone drives mopeds and the pants available for purchase are tailored specifically for a population much lacking butt.
2. Though if you go to the mountains ( I went to the Yellow Mountains), it's really fucking clean and these buff dudes will carry luggage and the elderly for a few dollars. And if you're me, you'll find the best way to enjoy the sights is to contemplate jumping off a peak or ledge into them, and wondering if it'd kill you.
3. And hey man, you can't possibly feel more alienated than when you're spending the majority of each day with relatives who don't speak your language. I haven't had anything but sparse small talk and strife to help maintain my vocal abilities for the past month.
4. So I read a lot. Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass and Wicked and De Profundis and The Third Policeman and The Inferno (until I noticed I didn't like it) and something Anne Rice wrote about castratos.
5. Reading about castratos made me wish I had been made into a eunuch as a boy. I couldn't perform in operas, of course, but I'd be spared adulthood and maybe get into some adventures. Besides, I think I looked better before puberty. Manhood was obviously a mistake.
6. And as far as I'm concerned, my genes are tainted so I shouldn't be having kids anyway. I don't even want to be like me, so how can I force that sort of thing upon another human being?
7. But I have a soft spot for kids, unfortunately, so I guess I might end up adopting. At least my uncanny ability to not abuse or exploit children will mean that I'll qualify as a satisfactory foster parent right from the start. Maybe I'll pick an ugly one.
8. For the record, I finally did decide to open up to my mother about the depression, the therapy and medication, and how I had hoped that I could take time off from school to better sort myself out. That went well until two days later when I was scolded for seeming so gloomy during breakfast and giving people the impression that I wasn't happy. Then there was an argument about the idea that I had no reason to be depressed, and that it was simply a matter of rousing the old positivity muscles. I was also called a monster, for some reason. I'm expected to go back to Penn State next semester, since my parents talked to this guy they know who said taking a semester off was bad and I ought to just tough things out.
9. Currently, I'm at my dad's trying my best not to listen to him awkwardly flirt with bizarre women on his cell. I'm supposed to spend the summer helping him remodel his basement and working a part-time job at somewhere (though I don't expect to be hired, since I answered my applications honestly).
10. I know nobody here, and I have a crush on the receptionist at the acupuncturist's office.
And by the way, I masturbated under a blanket in the first class section of the United Airlines flight from Shanghai to San Francisco a few times. It's the pathetic cousin of the mile high club and, in retrospect, a very impolite thing to do. I'm only saying this because it's probably the only remotely interesting thing I'll do this year.
72. The whole numbering system was bunk anyway.
I took a notebook along to write down little thoughts here and there so I could have this stuff ready to share upon my triumphant return. But really, who gives a shit how I spent my summer vacation? Hell, most of it is just incoherent psycho babble spewed forth from my "hormone deranged mind". I bet I can recreate most of it off the top of my head. Don't read if you don't care would be good advice if it wasn't obvious.
Key Points:
1. China is fucking dirty. Everyone drives mopeds and the pants available for purchase are tailored specifically for a population much lacking butt.
2. Though if you go to the mountains ( I went to the Yellow Mountains), it's really fucking clean and these buff dudes will carry luggage and the elderly for a few dollars. And if you're me, you'll find the best way to enjoy the sights is to contemplate jumping off a peak or ledge into them, and wondering if it'd kill you.
3. And hey man, you can't possibly feel more alienated than when you're spending the majority of each day with relatives who don't speak your language. I haven't had anything but sparse small talk and strife to help maintain my vocal abilities for the past month.
4. So I read a lot. Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass and Wicked and De Profundis and The Third Policeman and The Inferno (until I noticed I didn't like it) and something Anne Rice wrote about castratos.
5. Reading about castratos made me wish I had been made into a eunuch as a boy. I couldn't perform in operas, of course, but I'd be spared adulthood and maybe get into some adventures. Besides, I think I looked better before puberty. Manhood was obviously a mistake.
6. And as far as I'm concerned, my genes are tainted so I shouldn't be having kids anyway. I don't even want to be like me, so how can I force that sort of thing upon another human being?
7. But I have a soft spot for kids, unfortunately, so I guess I might end up adopting. At least my uncanny ability to not abuse or exploit children will mean that I'll qualify as a satisfactory foster parent right from the start. Maybe I'll pick an ugly one.
8. For the record, I finally did decide to open up to my mother about the depression, the therapy and medication, and how I had hoped that I could take time off from school to better sort myself out. That went well until two days later when I was scolded for seeming so gloomy during breakfast and giving people the impression that I wasn't happy. Then there was an argument about the idea that I had no reason to be depressed, and that it was simply a matter of rousing the old positivity muscles. I was also called a monster, for some reason. I'm expected to go back to Penn State next semester, since my parents talked to this guy they know who said taking a semester off was bad and I ought to just tough things out.
9. Currently, I'm at my dad's trying my best not to listen to him awkwardly flirt with bizarre women on his cell. I'm supposed to spend the summer helping him remodel his basement and working a part-time job at somewhere (though I don't expect to be hired, since I answered my applications honestly).
10. I know nobody here, and I have a crush on the receptionist at the acupuncturist's office.
And by the way, I masturbated under a blanket in the first class section of the United Airlines flight from Shanghai to San Francisco a few times. It's the pathetic cousin of the mile high club and, in retrospect, a very impolite thing to do. I'm only saying this because it's probably the only remotely interesting thing I'll do this year.
72. The whole numbering system was bunk anyway.