No sé Wendy. ¿Y usted?

I was in a weird world

  We were all held captive but tried to pretend we weren't

  That's how we stayed alive

11:08 AM roaming cobblestone streets

  Visiting old soldiers

  Everyone was complimenting you on your essay but you stopped them

11:09 AM You weren't proud of it

  It contained a sentence about falling, farting down a hill

11:10 AM I was plotting my escape.

  so I told the girl I loved

  "I don't know Wendy, do you? "

11:11 AM "I don't Know Wendy either," she said.

  This was how I communicated I was leaving without being intercepted.

11:12 AM The woman mastermind or second in command, took me to the pond area and told me where we would all be moving.

11:13 AM 

I figured I could catch the bus to Mississippi and be halfway to New York before anyone noticed

Se miró en el espejo y nos dijo que era gay

In the past few days, I've sorted the blue jelly beans for Obama, hung out on a beach, and been declared gay by a center designated to help people determine if they are or aren't.  They just took me in a corner, and held up a mirror, the kind with a handle, and told me the news.  I thought the whole thing was kind of hokey and told Kristin she didn't have to try it, I didn't really buy into it.  Given my philosophies on gender and life, I'd already basically determined I was basically "gay" or psuedo gay, or potentially gay, or whatever, but had no idea how their plastic mirror had given them their own insight into my personal orientational history.   The whole set-up was in kind of a tree house.  And it was very important that I find a certain book afterwards.  But I kept finding the wrong one with a similar title.

Acabo de empezar a ver a un tipo que vive fuera de la ciudad. de regresar de una visita, vi que se coloca una "conexión perdida" ad acerca de mí en craigslist.

It said, "Did I do something wrong?"

Un Iceberg, Un Aestruz, Un Arma

I was trying to marry my sister. For immigration purposes.
Children were up for adoption on E-bay.  It was called E-men.
All the while I was chasing an iceberg around the world.
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The next day, I was the one being chased.  By a lion.  In a savanna.
I slid down hills and hills and ran for my little life.
There were ceramics and doors I couldn't really go in.
The lion turned out to be an ostrich.
I killed it before I knew.
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Someone's husband kissed me.  I wasn't really surprised.  The wife pulled up in a sports car and was very angry.

I was a stranger in my own home.  I had to ask permission to use the bathrooms and everything was different.  My parents were hosting a party for a military squadron.

I was sitting next to my sister who was sitting next to a soldier.  Walkie-Talkies gave updates and explanations as to what was on tv.  There were guns everywhere and our house was surrounded.

"I gotta get out of here.  All these guns are really freaking me out."
Kristin nodded, "I understand."
"What's the problem?" The soldier asked.
"I'm just uncomfortable," I said, "with all these weapons."
He handed me his AK-47 with a completely straight face, "Here, have mine."
"What are you doing?  I'll die before I use a gun," I said.

Somos el Dream Police. Somos la policer de los sueños.

My parents came to see me in Greece.  I only had one day with them, so I showed them the ruins.  I felt weird doing all of the tourist stuff, but justified it because I was with my parents.

Then I decided to go to Greece again, with the same university program I'd gone with like six years ago.  I was at a meeting with my archaeology professor.  It was in a concrete canal.  Some of my friends were going and I decided I'd just go, practice my Greek.  I went to the informational meeting. As I was walking towards the structure, I realized I was ineligible to go as I'd already graduated from college.  Thinking there might be a position open for me as a planner or student manager, I attended anyway.

Doctor Cosmop was talking about two different kinds of Hangul (the Korean language).  There was Hangul and Haengul, which I was very excited to hear about.

I shouted out to my friends that since they were losers and hadn't graduated yet, they could go to Greece, but I couldn't, no longer being a loser.

Me temo que el nudo

I was in a dark parking garage trying to maneuver my mom's white Honda. I was completely out of control of the vehicle. The breaks were whack and the steering wasn't working...at all. I finally smashed into a parked car.

I must have stepped out of the vehicle because as soon as I looked back at the car, a white man and puppy were driving away...in my mom's car.

I was like, WHAT?!?! I waited all day to call my mom and tell her what happened. I also realized that I never called the police.

el amor te ha abrumado?

Peopl came to watch our band play.  They were kids I knew in college.  They didn't say much but I didn't really care.  I overheard someone looking for me in the convenience store.  It was C.  I chased him down and we embraced. 

"How are you??" I asked and I saw tears in his eyes. 

"I still love her," he said.  And I knew exactly who he meant: A.  All of their turmoil over four or so odd years, and so many years passed and he was still torn apart.  But I wasn't. 

"I figured it out," I said. "I finally figured it out."  I was talking about love.

"What?" he said, "Tell me what it is."  The brother of a guy I was seeing romantically at the time was also in the store.  The brother had identified himself as such.  Just then. 

"Like, his brother," I said, pointing to the guy, "his brother thinks I love him.  But that's nothing!  That's not love."

"My brother is going to cry," the boy said, "he really fell for you."  It seemed to me this kid's brother must cry very easily.  His brother might have even said so, or given some examples of times he had also cried.

"We haven't even known each other two months," I said.

Then I ran down a hill overwhelmed because of love.  The hill was covered in snow and their were signs about steam-induced slipperiness.  I went back up, slowly.

Si puede flotar, puedo volar

I was going up the escalator to a supermarket.  There were two girls behind me.  I slowly felt myself leaning backwards, highly unnaturally, and I grew feverishly embarassed.  "It's like I'm dreaming," I thought, "but this is real life.  What can I do?"  I could do nothing but continue leaning back until I was floating vertically back down the escalator.  As I reached the bottom, I saw the girls were whispering about me, and laughing.  "This isn't right," I thought.  If I can float, I can fly. And fly I did.  I flapped my hands and flew, kind of clumsily, back up towards the supermarket.  "I can fly!" I thought as I passed others, who looked doubtful.  "As long as I don't doubt myself, I can do it.  I usually doubt myself, almost always, but right now, I can't.  I'm flying!"

There was a boy sitting in front of the store, as if one needed to register with him before entering the supermarket.  The boy was someone I'd had a crush on in first grade, and hadn't seen in many many years.  Recently, my parents had indicated he was getting married.  He'd grown much rounder, and had a beard.  And was altogether rather dull to talk to. 
"Hey, I bet you don't remember me."

"Of course I do, you're JF."
"Yeah."
A girl walked by and asked me if I was married.
"No," I said.
"I think you two would make a good match," the girl said.
"No, no," JF laughed, "they've got Korea and everything going for them."  As if he were talking about both me and my sister. 
"Hah," I said.  I wanted to leave, but the sheer strangeness of the interaction was magnetic. 

"Is it ok, working in the supermarket?"

"Yeah, it's ok.  I took the job over after MW left.  You remember that guy right?" MW was another kid from our elementary school.  "Would you like some coupons?"

"Oh, sure, thanks."

As he reached to hand me a store bulletin, I realized he had my diary in his lap among other books and papers.

Immediately I snatched it away, in a panic that he'd see something I'd written about him many many years ago.

If stars could talk

It was father's day or mother's day and everyone was missing their parent who had died. JR was missing his deceased father and JL was missing her deceased mother. She had some really special presentation that she made to pay tribute to her mom. I felt horrible because I didn't even know that JL's mother had died.

There were stars above us, so we must have been camping. Haksu was there and feeling bad about a terrible military dance that I had been invited to.

I was totally bored, but I don't know if he had asked me to it or not or why he felt bad. It was sort of a Mexican looking version of Haksu.

usted es un perdedor de las cosas, un perdedor de la gente?

I tore everything out of my suitcase and ripped everything to shreds looking for a single wallet-sized item.  I finally found it in an unlikely place and went back to work at a restuarant where I roll up sticks for customers.  There are two different types of stick orders.  The type that fold up naturally because of the way they are constructed.  And the other kind that I have to force more, and bundle.  I never saw anyone eat the sticks, but they ordered them and I filled the orders.

Two monks I thought were my friends got angry because I spoke to them informally.  At first they looked like my friends, but then they were clearly not.  "I thought you were my friends," I said. 

"We are not, and you cannot speak to us like that," they said from their blue robes.  I walked into the adjacent convenience store.

Su mente se acusa a

Kristin dragged me out of a joint Korean-teacher's party to take me to Starbucks.
"You hate Starbucks.  I hate Starbucks.  Why are we here?" I said.  She mashed my eyes down and opened the glass door.
"Open your eyes," she said.
Clipped on a clothes line were a dozen of Kristin's music cds.  All enclosed in handmade cloth cases.  There were signs about Urban Promise everywhere, all of them in Kristin's loopy koala handwriting.
"How did you get permission to do all of this?" I asked, incredulously.
"I just asked.  They liked me."
"Amazing.  I'm so proud of you." Silently, I thought some of the signs were tacky.
"I don't care if I haven't sold a single cd.  You're here and that means the world to me."
"You haven't sold a single cd?"
"I think I've sold a few."

In a field I stared out into high grass with a very loyal person I knew from an underground bar.

In my office, with my feet on the large desk in front of me I defended my parents' alma mater, Texas A&M.  But my mouth wouldn't move correctly, my lips were falling off or I was fall-down drunk.  I was very embarrassed.

Desperately I searched for toothpaste for Thurman.  I couldn't find toothpaste fast enough.

Someone I maintain an innocent correspondence with walked into my bedroom and was visibly disturbed by what he saw, though, in effect, nothing was happening.
"Can I talk to you for a sec?" I said, grabbing his skinny arm and dragging him into the hall. "This isn't what you think it is."

"Really?"
"I mean, I'm not interested in that guy."
"I know you two got together after some festival."
"We did?"
"How do you not know that?  I saw the whole thing."
It bothered me that I didn't remember this, but I continued.  "Well, anyway, to be honest, I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to be seeing other people.  Aren't you seeing other people?"
He went away and I was alone in a staircase.  Large doors swung open and I saw emergency vehicles pulling up and I had the feeling I was going to be taken away.  There were people in matching jackets but I couldn't figure out what they were for.  Were they emergency room staff, police officers, or gasoline attendants?
"Don't move." One said, at the foot of the staircase.  "We know the sniper is in there."
"Here?"  I looked around.  I couldn't see him, but I could feel something watching me.

Una noche entera de sueño perdido

Michelle from the television show Full House was being forced to wear some kind of cloth over her head.  "This is very frustrating," she said.

no soy capaz en el mundo que está volando

I went inside a dark room which turned out to be am enormous movie theater.  Kids from my school were buying popcorn and I was holding sodas.  As I drank out of a straw I was sure I had just picked up someone's trash and was drinking someone's leftover soda, but as I looked down it was only the cup I'd been using to drink coffee out of each day.
I followed my friends to where they were sitting and they pushed me to hurry up buy a ticket.  It was mostly the Taiwanese kids and the other American girl, who was wearing her red trench-coat, as usual.  We walked over to buy tickets together and I asked her what the movie was.
 "Ha, Ha, Ha," she said.
 "Oh, the Looney Toons one?" I asked.
"Yes.  I think so."
 "Well, either way it's a kid's movie.  It looks like they only show children's movies on this screen."

"Yeah."
"I guess I'm not gonna go.  I can't really handle children's movies.  I mean, we have a dollar theater back home, so maybe I would spend a dollar for it.  But I really can't --"
I realized she wasn't listening to me so I stopped talking.
She asked me to take pictures of her holding the umbrella, but I was having a hard time.  It was a very big, expensive looking camera and I was very afraid of dropping it.
"I don't see you in the pictures I've been taking," I said.
"Look in the viewfinder."
"Oh."
She was flying in and out of the viewfinder, though, the camera wouldn't let her stay.  It made me very frustrated and dizzy.
I handed her back the camera, "Sorry," I said.

I walked outside where a group of my guy friends were sitting drinking.  I sat down and someone who I knew must be a student but whom I've never seen before came out and started speaking Korean, better than I had expected.

Estoy constantemente sorprendente subida

I was slapped in the face.  The perpetrator was a really cute, short, blonde girl I knew from childhood, from Sunday School, where hitting was not allowed.  But we weren't children anymore.  We were performers in a play.  And my costume included white shorts.  They were rather long and the set designer asked me to have them tailored.  I rolled up the legs and asked her what length.  "You can make them a little shorter," she said.  I frowned.  I'm not sure these will cover my ass, I thought, but obeyed.  "My Mom can fix them for you," the Sunday School alumni said.  "Great!  Thanks," I said and resumed folding up the legs and they became shorts.  The white blue-jean kind that people wore in the eighties or in high school.  I then handed the shorts to the girl but she just glared at me.  She denied ever saying that her mom would tailor the shorts.  "But, you just said it."  "No, I didn't.  You're weird."  "I promise I heard you."  "Stop saying I said stuff I didn't say."  And then she hit me.  Once on the arm.  And then right across my face.  I was in shock and left.

Once again I trudged uphill.  I had the feeling I was about to spit up blood and then I did.  I watched as it rolled down the hill.  And a guy I used to keep the scores of basketball games with looked up from his seat on the sidewalk, "Should you really be drinking while you're..."

"Spitting up blood?"

"Yeah." 

"I'm not drinking."

I was pretty angry at this point and wound up in the practice room of the university orchestra.  I went into the hallway and practiced my boxing moves.  I was throwing punches and I had no shirt on and red pants.  I didn't intend to actually hurt anymore, I told a passing professor, just blow off steam.

Cuando me desperté, miré diferentes

I met my supervisor under a bridge, I was late, but he wasn't angry.  I ran out of my house rashly, grabbing the first shoes I saw (high heels) and dashed out fearing his wrath because I was always late.  He was laughing, there, not angry at all.

"We didn't have an appointment," he said, "I don't need your papers."  He asked me to do something and I agreed, and then we walked up to school together, following another employee who'd clambered up the brick stairs quickly.

"Let's go up these," he said, "they have steps."  This led me to believe there was another way to go back up towards the school, though I couldn't see it.

After the brick stairs, we had to climb up a blue ramp made out of slippery material.  I wasn't used to climbing it with high heels on so I struggled a bit.

"Why did you wear those shoes?" my advisor asked, "You never wear high heels."
"I know, but I thought I was late so I just grabbed the first ones I saw."
"I see."

After we made it to the top I went inside and bought a plane ticket home.
I flew home, to Arkansas, and the first place I went was to my childhood church.  All the ladies were there, typing away, I gave hugs to them all, and inquired after my mom and sister.

"They're not here right now," they said.
I called my Mom.  "Mom, don't tell Kristin, but I'm home."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, and I want to surprise Kristin."
"Ok."
I was alarmed at how nonplussed she was.
Next I called Kristin.
"Kristin, what's up?"
"I'm on a walk with Mom right now.  It's rude of me to talk to you.  I'll call you later.  Bye."
"Wait!  Wait!  How about you walk by the church?"
My mom grabbed the phone from Kristin and said, "Look Lauren, we're busy right now."
I couldn't believe it.  "Well, where are you walking?  I'll meet you there!"
It seemed like Mom and Kristin were arguing about where to go to walk.
"All we've been doing since I've been home is walk.  We've walked everywhere," Kristin sighed.

Knowing I was the solution to Kristin's boredom, I couldn't believe Mom was behaving so strangely.  It was as if she hadn't understood that I was home.  Home.  In Arkansas. For the first time in a year.
But they remained unconvinced and I hung up the phone and decided to wait.
I was in some kind of plaza, possibly the atrium of our church.  I held twigs and danced around in the leaves, twirling up pine needles, euphoric to be home.  While I danced, I thought about who I could call.  I could only remember two people: my high school boyfriend and Matthew.  I thought about calling Matthew, but I remembered how far away St. Louis was.  Then I realized I had to decide when I was going back to school.  It seemed like there was something I had to do on Thursday.  What had I done?  Why had I come home for such a short amount of time?
But it was worth it, I thought, in all my glee.  Just stirring up the dirt of home, letting the grass roll over my shoes. I should come home every weekend, I thought.  Just for the same amount of days for which I'd gone to Hong Kong.