my hypothetical celebrity marriage

If genies were real and one popped out of like, a bottle of Snapple I was drinking (I figured the Snapple makes this more realistic somehow) I would immediately be so overwhelmed by the possibilities, the fear of making a terrible wish, and the potential bite-you-in-the-ass "careful what you wish for" repercussions. I would just have a nervous breakdown from all the pressure and stress, go nutso like Ophelia and kill myself. Just thinking about impossible hypothetical scenarios stresses me out, even though it's supposed to be telling, harmless fun.

The one, THE ONE exception to this, is if you ask me something like "Shan, if you could marry any person in the whole wide world, who would it be?" And to that, my friends, I answer: Joshua Groban.

There is nothing douchebaggy or offensive about Josh Groban. If I were reading The Chronicles of Narnia right now I'd be picturing J.Grobes as Mr. Tumnus. Also, a bunny could probably beat up Josh Groban.

But you know what? He is so not badass that he is actually badass. He is almost impossibly cheesy, inspirational, and geeky, but he's so tongue-in-cheek about it that the end result is someone just so... affable, unpretentious, and surprisingly hilarious. Like Tina Fey, he's a poster child for wholesomeness, and maybe that's my favorite kind of person--because, conversely, I'm kind of an asshole.

J.G.'s twitter account, which is a giant procrastination device for me, has basically convinced Jackie and me that if we actually knew the guy we would pretty much be the best of friends (he would also fit nicely into our fold of Mason Gross friends). His tweets please me and I strongly identify with them.
Like, "Today is one of those 'I really should get back to learning the bagpipe' kind of days." or 
"Gyro from a corner street vendor- 4$. The warmth of a chorus of grease covered angels singing "nom nom nom!" down my esophagus- priceless."


The best aspect of this hypothetical marriage is that he would sing at the wedding. I challenge you to top that. He would look at me with those honest, clear eyes and sing "When You Say You Love Me" at our SUPER BADASS WEDDING (which would have only the awesomest of celebrities like Ellen Degeneres and Michael Buble). And, oh God, sweet Jesus, I'd make sure he gets his bro ANDREA BOCELLI to sing as well, and that would be perfection.


Final point:

the best laid plans of mice and shans

I'm too drained by all the goings-on to be articulate. Man, that word never made any sense. Goings-on. Passers-by.

The details will come later, but, to skip ahead to the end of the book, the odds of me going to Japan at this point are very very slim.

Spoiler alert: as a consolation prize, I'm trying to see if I can do the Rutgers Summer in Berlin program again.

I shot an email to the acting undergrad director of the Germ dept. (at least I think he is... why does everyone important in the department end up peacing out for sabbatical, anyway?), who forwarded it to this year's program director. But he thinks they're still taking applications, and didn't tell me that I couldn't do the program again. What he said was it's "going to be a little different, in some interesting ways (including a possible excursion to Instanbul), so I don't think you'd be bored." Woah woah woah Istanbul--do my eyes deceive me because that is so dope. And sick. And whaaat.

But I'm trying to not get ahead of myself here. Until further news arrives I'm trying to avoid thoughts like: oh my God they have to let me go to Berlin again or else what am I going to do with myself? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MYSELF?
As well as thoughts like: I am going to go back to Europe and see so many of the places I have yet to visit!!! SWEET JESUS. I CAN VISIT AGATA WHILE SHE'S IN PARIS. Maybe I can go to AMSTERDAM OR DUBLIN OR EVERYWHERE.

But right now, in this moment, the words "I will go to..." only belong next to the word "sleep."

Oh God, Japan

Everything going on over there is heartbreaking and increasingly terrifying, and meanwhile, I face an unknown future. This is not at all how I anticipated my (possible) pre-departure to go. I'm supposed to leave in 9 days but... who knows.

If I don't go, this messes up my whole collegiate future, not to mention puts my family out of a lot of money. It means I won't get to go to Japan at all as a Rutgers student, and I don't think I'd be able to get my East Asian Studies major either. Because I didn't take any classes this spring I'll be behind a semester. That extra semester will cost me, since I rely on scholarships to pay all of my tuition, scholarships which no longer apply after spring 2012. As of right now if I cancel everything we also lose money on the flights (only flights to Tokyo are eligible for refund or rescheduling). Without this trip, without this stone in place, everything falls apart.

Ritsumeikan University is still operating normally.
Flights are still going into Kansai.
Tokyo is a panic-stricken mess but to my knowledge, Kyoto remains calm and functioning, but also will undergo strain as people from up north travel to the south en masse.

So right now, I don't know, we just wait and watch.

Obviously my safety, my own life, is a higher priority than losing money and having to make East Asian Studies a minor instead of a major, and not graduating on time but... the way things are right now, What I Should Do is not as clear-cut as I'd like it to be. I don't know how seriously I should be frightened to go to Kyoto, I don't know exactly how dangerous it is...

And I just have to laugh ruefully at the fact that, ok, mother nature hit Japan with that earthquake, and her waters swallowed up thousands of lives as though they were nothing--that's tragic. But this nuclear meltdown stuff is all on us; that's our human invention. And it's sickening. Especially that this should happen to, of all places, the nation that was hit twice by nuclear weapons not too long ago.

And I don't know what else to say. I started packing last night but I don't know if I can go back to the task right now.

New York, let's be friends!

Updating on here has been horrendous lately because I am like, the laziest little dreg (yes, dreg, singular. I'm not sure if you can do that) of the earth right now. If there's any doubt in your mind, you just need to ask me "Shan, what kind of pants are you wearing?" and you'll find a clear answer. Yesterday I spent the whole day wearing gray Old Navy loungepants that go back to gym class '07. Those were the pants I slept in the previous night. And then today I spent the majority of my day in the baggy holes-at-the-knees "boyfriend" jeans I've been known to pair with a tie-dye shirt because it makes me look like a stoner, and I kind of love that.

I can't find the motivation to do anything. Anything productive, I mean. Frivolity, as usual, I can handle. Naturally my mom has been scolding me about all the frivolity, because its her job. Pretty much ever since I found some sort of a social life in high school I've been hearing the admonition "you've been doing too much laquacha" nonstop. The best definition of laquacha that I've found in the internet is simply "gallivanting and shenanigans." God, laquacha-ing is like my all-time favorite past-time.

 honestly no idea what this quote means

Friday I needed to go to the Japanese Consulate to pick up my visa (oh, Japan, that's a topic I definitely need to get to... [frown]) but I also laquacha'd my way to The Museum of Modern Art with Jackie, which was fabulous--maybe even fantabulous, depending on how much gay fairy dust you sprinkled into your coffee this morning. The weather came out surprisingly good and not rainy. And Jackie was impressed to the point of incredulity that I, Shan who possesses a fundamental inability to plan anything + an appalling sense of direction, actually took the lead on this one and successfully brought us to where we needed to be. Using the subway and everything. I was also crazy-impressed with myself.

The key to my metro mastery, I realized, actually came in the form of the douchey/beloved line of notebooks known as Moleskine. Mmhmm. The Moleskine city notebooks, you guys. I am obsessed with them. **can someone buy me all of them??

Ordinarily I do not like Moleskines. Like a lot of people, I become too intimidated by really cool, pricey notebooks of quality, and end up never writing or drawing in them. You think "Oh God, this thing is meant to be treasured forever, I better put some really mind-blowing thoughts in here." Just thinking about it gives me the willies. That's why I have my greatest success in creative and emotional expression when writing in a notebook that costs $1 and is falling apart (if the lameness of that sentence offends you, I'm sorry). Point is, I understand your fancy notebook hesitancy.

But these cities journals are totally bangin' and the best investment ever if you are traveling to a major city. I'm talkin' Barcelona, Dublin, Copenhagen, Beijing! etc. etc. They've got public transportation maps that fold out and full maps of the city, marked with the important landmarks. And then blank pages which you are supposed to fill up with all the important/cool things you discover/visit/experience in that city. I wrote the addresses of awesome restaurants, names of delicious beers so I wouldn't forget them, and jotted down notes in museums. "The first guide you write yourself", man. Also, that it's "dedicated to the city and to urban life, to travelers and residents, to independent and free-thinking people." !!! Moleskines are douchey and pretentious, as is the latter part of the previous sentence, but these are so practical! And they're conveniently small. And if you're lost you can discreetly find your way without looking like one of those goshdarn tourists just begging to get mugged, what with a big 'ol map held out in front of you.

It was Jackie who got me started on this. She bought me the one for Berlin as part of my birthday present, and it may have been the most useful/awesome gift in the history of gifts I've received. And I've gotten a silver bedazzled fortune cookie that opens up and and the fortune inside it has the engraved message "Fuck it, you got this!" (thanks, Cassie!) so you know I'm not messing around. Dudes, if someone you know is about to embark on a trip, this is a no-brainer.

Right, so I bought the NYC one because I happened to see it on supersale for $4, and you know I bought the Kyoto one. And really, I should get the Tokyo one too, now that I think of it...

So, some pictures of both times that I went to NYC this month:

was sort of praying that Tina Fey or Alec Baldwin would pop out of there

Rockefeller plizazza

St. Patrick's

Loved this view from inside MoMa

 
I can't imagine going to a modern art museum without a friend, because you need someone who will laugh at all the ridiculous crap with you, and agree with you when you see something that's actually awesome. This is a problem sort of unique to modern art because at regular museums you don't have to question whether the stuff is even art, because you're staring at, like, Boticellis. And also it might be nice to go by yourself and be absorbed in your own thoughts/inspired, maybe holding a Moleskine, ha ha.

Now that I'm not subway-challenged anymore I will definitely be looking for excuses to go to NYC all the time. There was so much we didn't have time to do on Friday! Like, I wanted to buy a cupcake at Magnolia Bakery! Mmmm. Aw yeaah.

I've been to NYC more times than I'd be able to count, and I'd even dabbled with the idea of being in debt the rest of my life and choosing NYU over Rutgers, but I feel like only now am I starting to understand why the place is so awesome (And maybe turning 21 and being able to bar hop in the citay will also help, whoknowswhoknows just a thought.) Here I am, so close to this hub of culture but I don't really take advantage of it as I should. And that just won't do. Sure I've seen The Daily Show and Important Things with Demetri Martin filmed live, but I could still be doing MOAR. So. New goal!

favorite quote #3

 

Andy Warhol, yooo. Bought this poster at MoMa today. I think the sentiment is just the superest.

And yes, it would look great in the apartment next year.

on being sick: hugs AND drugs, please

So about this cold. It's mostly gone by now, but yesterday I was in such misery. But then, I do not handle sickness well at all. Maybe there are those who pop some serious pills and just power through it, tough it out. I am part of a school of thought that instead milks it for every last drop, and if that means stealing everyone's blankets and laying in them comatose, followed by weeping, and then a slow sad hobble to get to the other side of the room SO BE IT. When I am sick, I want to be pitied and babied. Is that so wrong?

Funnily enough no one at home really babies me. In fact, once when I had the flu I was at the dinner table (not eating, of course) and my dad made some kind of a somehow unkind (HA confusing wordplay) comment, and I burst into sobs. I burst into sobs because every inch of my body was in complete pain and I no longer felt the will to live--I think that's what I said.

For this little cold I took 2 teaspoons of Robitussin every 4 hours as per in the instructions. Sh*t is not "non-drowsy", fyi. Or at least it isn't if you are 4'11'' and you take it; I don't know how this stuff works. Regardless an hour later I was both not sniffling and standing unsteadily on a kitchen table blasting Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer." Which is a great song (almost as catchy, to me, as my personal favorite "More Than a Feeling") and I'm glad that Robitussin reminded me of that fact. Oh, did you know that gettin' high off of Robitussin is called "robotripping"? Thanks, internet.

So I was gettin' real buzzed off the stuff (to a lesser degree than when I was on Mucinex last year, at least) and decided I needed to be a little responsible. So I checked the dosage on the container for how much a person  "under 12 years of age" should take. And it just said "do not take." |: I am probably the size of the average 12 year old, aren't I.
RHETORICAL QUESTION.

NYC adventures and London flashbacks

Darlings, I am beat. I don't even recall what I did with most of my day, but I am beat. Oh God. Realization that part of what I did was watch no less than three episodes of Glee that were on demand. Glee is just one of those things I've resigned to not like because it's kind of annoying and enjoys popularity. Much like the stance I took on myspace for years. Haters gonna hate, right? I don't know, I just like to put up a bit of a fight before digging into a giant slice of pop culture. The principle of the thing.

But mostly the show is just so far-fetched (I'm sorry, does the wheel chair kid always have to dance?) and I hate when it gets all cheesy after school special-y, with such themes as Be Yourself! and Bullying Isn't Cool, You Guys! And the romance triangles and quadrangles... whatever. The show does have good moments, and it is, unfortunately, kind of addicting. The fact of the matter was, I exhausted all of my other On Demand options (watched all of the episodes of Perfect Couples and I really am liking it, I have to say).

Anyway, that was my Gleetastic morning. I'm sick with a cold, by the way. It started on Friday... mum and I were actually in NYC that day, dropping stuff off at the Japanese embassy. We took the subway and didn't get lost or anything, ha-ha. We're both really bad at navigating New York. Werqing the U-Bahn in Berlin and Vienna? Piece of cake. So straightforward. But on my home turf, more or less, I am helpless. It's the turnstiles and junk (which I didn't see in Germany) that makes all the difference, I think. Plus Berlin and Vienna are Cities, but New York is a CITY. It's massive.

My super legit paperwork-visa-business will be available on Wednesday, so I'll have to head back there. I must take that opportunity to do Something Worthwhile, you know? MoMa is in the area and, I am ashamed to say this, I've never been. Actually, I'm not that ashamed. When I think modern art I think of total and utter bullshit. But hey, I got something out of the Tate Modern in London, didn't I? Although there was deffo some bullshit in there too.

Friday what we did after the Embassy was look around Saks Fifth Avenue. I've never been to any of those big 'ol department stores in NYC either (travesty!). I have only--quite tragically, really--seen them from the outside, when they're all closed, gazing at their stunning window displays at Christmastime. Usually while munching on some cashews purchased from a Nuts4Nuts vendor. So it was pretty neat to be inside one... it reminded me of Harrods, only nowhere near as cool. Harrods is just a totally boss place. If I lived in London... Oh Jesus. Seriously.

Because at Harrods it's not just clothes and shoes and Hermès scarves (by the way, as a scarves fiend it is a personal goal to get my hands on one of those damn hundreds-of-dollars silk scarves) but there are whole rooms, gorgeous rooms, devoted to Tea and Coffee or like, Sweets, and it's utterly delightful. I nearly died from the visual smorgasbord. So while I cannot and possibly may never be able to go to Harrods and just pick up a Herve Leger dress, I am able to window shop and treat myself to their crème brûlée, and that is what's most important. Little luxuries can be just as sweet as big luxuries, you know. That's why whenever I go to Wegmans (j'adore Wegmans) I am sure to buy a small round dessert with lots of berries on it. Mmm. Can someone take me to Wegmans tomorrow? And also TJMaxx or Marshall's, as I'm in a designer shoppin' mood and I don't wanna pay retail. (Digression: they had this adorbs red Kate Spade crossbody bag with a tassel at TJMaxx last time, I just had to buy it. It made me kind of deliriously happy).

Flashback time!

You just stare at that beautiful building and know it's a Shopping Establishment.

Uhhhhhh. Right, so Saks. Yeah, I felt kind of poor wandering around there. Not as poor as when I visited Rodeo Drive, but still pretty much poor. But really, who pays retail ever? Who does that? Today at the mall (yes, I accompanied my mother to the mall, even though I'm sick and miserable. But not as sick and miserable as I was yesterday) I managed to get a pair of gray skinny jeans from American Eagle for $13, which I'm counting as proof of how opposed I am to buying stuff that isn't on sale. 


This post is getting a bit lengthy so I think I'll continue it in another, sooner or later. Sooner preferably but it's nearly one ante meridian. I'm sleepy, ya know.

when did tv get to be my life?

Thursday nights that don't include new episodes of 30 Rock, Community and The Big Bang Theory depress me in equal proportion to how perfectly happy I am when there are new episodes. |: NBC alone controls so much of my happiness that it could be unhealthy (cough, havealsobeenfollowingthebiggestloserreligiously, cough). And actually, that new show Perfect Couples isn't half-bad--I look forward to it, even. As far as The Office goes, I was following it for a time, but stopped quite a while ago, and although it irks me that Parks and Recreation follows the same mockumentary format, I will occasionally indulge. Oh lastly, my parents get a kick out of Outsourced, probably because the humor veers way toward the cheesy side of things, and my parents are like that (30 Rock is too quick and of-the-moment for them, so it goes right over their heads). They would find a show that pokes fun at Indian culture and mannerisms hilarious (and yet a couple weeks ago I had a bindi colored in with marker on my forehead, but let's ignore that).

The episode of 30 Rock last week was really not great, though (and I thought the episode wherein they finally got rid of Matt Damon's character was the worst it could get. Frown). I just wasn't feeling Liz's storyline with the babytalking comedienne, although Jack versus the 14 year old girl is pretty brill. But actually, after webbin' out a bit, I can more clearly see the point of the episode, or at least one of them. That is, sort of trying to address the issue of the lady comic--what the frack does it matter if she's funny, as long as she's gorgeous, right? Like the article on jezebel.com titled "The Daily Show's Woman Problem." Why, after going so long without a regular female correspondent, would they hire Olivia Munn of all people? Admittedly I like her on Perfect Couples. And theoretically I like to support my Eurasian sisters in the media (er, porn doesn't count). But I just don't know. I'm thinking of her on Attack of the Show and trying to recall if she was legitimately funny or funny for a girl hot enough to be on the cover of Maxim. Funny considering. Shrug.

If you're attractive you have a lot of advantages in life, that's just how it is. As annoying as that is, it would be less annoying if the injustice was perfectly the same for women as it is for men. But it isn't. Fact-o fact, uggo women have it way worse than men. A dude can be perfectly homely and successful in the media, like David Letterman, but if a woman is homely it's a first rate offense. Whaddup with that?