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Most recent entry
We enjoy the same food, the same people, the same outings, the same colors. We have an amazing time together,
day or night, and we even finish each other's thoughts off with cunning accuracy. I support his cause and he does mine.
Though it's strange to remember that we're two animals, living in close proximity while trying to neither procreate nor fight,
I can't imagine anyone I'd rather share such daily struggles with.
March 5, 2004, Friday morning
Looks like times change. Sad, but it's life. We're soon to go back to the 5-Mile Log and Simon and Jude are
dead.
July 29, 2004
But then again, things can chage back. Richie and Kim are once more. We've worked on our respective issues
and problems and are determined to be together. Though our fish are still dead, that's life. Both of my granparents
are also dead now and that's just the way the fish flops.
September 23, 2004
We'll be moving away, away, away from Studio 69 in less than a month. We're headed for greener pastures and that 'aint
bad. A change of place can be appropriate when you've outgrown and matured beyond the fish tank's confines, as we have.
In one month, we'll welcome the Terrace Log, written from the Terrace Apartments of Orange behind the Block.
September 25, 2004
I don't know why life gets so difficult when we're supposed to be having so much fun at the time time. Is life difficult
or not? I guess that's why there are so many philosophies in either direction. Life is hard, but look for the happy ending.
Life is easy, but the bigger they are, the harder they fall...where do we two roads meet up? In Neverland? Sheesh.
October 5, 2004
I can't believe that my old website is still up and running. I don't know if that was a conscious decision on someone's
part or just an oversight, but as it stands, Musings of a Formerly Romantic Girl is still in business. All the same, I can't
help but feel like that was a completely different Kim. I wonder how I made it here.
December 31, 2004
I'm happy that I'm able to get an entry in on the last day of this year. Next year, I'm going to start the 1000 square
foot log. I like to change log names often because it gets kinda mundane otherwise. We now live in an over 1000 square foot
apartment. It's not the Terrace, which I ended up hearing bad things about. We've decided to stay in Old Towne Orange.
Our landlady says it's definitely larger than 1000, but she couldn't remember by how much, so for the sake of a nice and
easy figure, I shall call our 2005 log a 1000 sq. ft one 'til further notice. This is the most space that we've ever had
to just ourselves.
The Last Entry
I had a crazy dream, one of the few that Richie was absent during. My Dad was driving me from John Wayne to Riverside. I
was holding a bunch of stuff before he got there. The wind whoosed from the opening door, knocking my skirt way up over my
head. Frighteningly, I wasn't wearing any underwear. A bunch of people were around and because my skirt blew over my head,
I couldn't see and I fell down. I got up, laughed with them for a second, and kept going. When I got to Riverside, my mom
was there and she had drawn a list of names up on a canvas that was sitting on an easel. My name was on the list, along with
the names of a bunch of my family members. All of our names had been covered in red paint, but because they were originally
written in black, they showed through. I was able to make out that my name had just been painted over. Two names were on
the list in yellow and they hadn't been painted over as of yet. The names read faintly becuase of their light yellow color,
but I could make out that they were the names of my two younger sisters, Mai-Khanh and Kieu. My mom explained that my name
was already painted because she was about to tell me something that everyone else on the list knew except my little sisters.
She went on to say that she and Dad had been drifting apart because of the age difference. She was still working, but he
was retired and wanted to travel the world. She said that she really loved him but that their agendas had grown far too different
to remain together. She told me that they were getting a divorce. My Dad walked in to support me but agree. I started to
grow very angry and was upset that my little sisters didn't know yet, so I called them to come. I was also getting pissed
off that I had to be in Riverise. "I f--king HATE this place," I yelled. "I mean, just step outside. Can anyone f--king
smell that?" In the dream, the city stank of rotting/rotted flesh and feces galore. (This part is more of a recollection
of an actual recent experience in Riverside, less of an imagined fantasy. If anyone asks, I'll tell) I proceeded to tell
my sisters what my parents had said and painted the rest of the canvas red, filling up the two white spots. (This part is
also more reality than fiction. I once told my sisters something that my parents had kept from us about our family, something
I found out/was told about first. It was a big sore point in my life at the time.) Then I got mad at all of the random (and
white, not that it matters.) people in the house and started finding all of the pens, pencils and chopsticks I could to kill
them with. Unlike the najority of my stabbing dreams where no matter how I try to kill, (usually demons/monsters, not people)
I can't stab anything to death, in this one, they all stayed dead and put up very little fight. My sisters even helped me
in this one. When we killed most everyone in the house, we ran across the grass to the next barn house.
An asian lady wearing a completely white ao dai (long traditional viet gown) with long black hair was squatting and tending
to rows of green leafy vegetables in her garden. She had been keeping for us the keys to a silver-colored jeep, parked right
behind her., to the left of her old wooden house. Just behind us to the left was the barn we'd just left a massacre behind
in. She stood up. Her hair was so long that it covered her hands, but it looked, for a second, like she was holding a gun.
This alarmed me. It turned out that she was just tricking us, that she was only holding her hair in the shape of a gun. We
were relieved. The four of us laughed and she told us to wait right there in her vegetable garden while she ventured inside
to get our keys. After an eternity of suspense, looking over our shoulders, and wondering if she was calling the cops or
getting a real weapon, she emerged with nothing more than the keys to our getaway car and we did. I woke up totally stressed
out about the dream. I went to bed again a little while later, but when I woke up for the last time this morning, I could
still remember the dream vividly. Not long after that, my mom called and put my sister Khanh on the phone. I just kinda
said I had a nightmare about mom and dad getting divorced, how are they doing out there in NY? He he he...
Usually in dreams I'm somewhere unfamiliar, but the fact that I dreamt about local places I seldom visit made the dream
seem that much more real. I've been getting into lucid dreaming. I've had about half a dozen or so, most of them good, but
two bad ones. The first step to getting there, one of the first things I've learned, is that you learn to recognize when
you're dreaming by the subtle tell-tale inconsistencies in dreams. How you can end up in a totally different place from the
one you were at just a second ago? You can't, and therefore it must be a dream. Once you realize it, you can begin to control
it, they say. (A good technique for non-natural lucid dreamers, unlike me.) When you see that you are in Riverside when
a moment ago you were in Costa Mesa, you know you're dreaming. My dream this time around, however, was so continuous and
detailed. The only thing that was truly inconsistent was that in real life, my sisters are not here in Orange and I don't
kill people. I'm not capable, except maybe in the extreme case of self defense. Sometimes I forget that my sisters aren't
here, though. Other than that, my Dad drove me from the airport to the farm, and I drove myself and my sisters away from
it. Oh, and I guess I've never known my mother to paint. That's more my thing. Well, another night in Kim's dreamworld,
documented. That makes me feel a little better.
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