Out, out, brief candle.

I love the way popular blogs read: like truth/fiction.

"... Some people think this proves that everything happens for a reason. And some people think this proves that love finds you at the most unexpected times. And maybe what it really proves is that people like to embroider meaning onto totally bizarre, unlikely events."

See here.

I think Nick Carraway said in Gatsby that personality is just a series of successful gestures.

I've tried to start so many blogs since I left el-jay last fall ...

I'm not sure why my interest in posting here waned. Okay, actually I do know. Why do I pull all these rhetorical maneuvers in my writing? By the time I write a sentence like "I'm not sure..." I suddenly am sure, because my mind has been working overtime. My brain is so much faster than my typing -- so I've already figured out the riddle by the time I post it -- and yet, I still insist on recording every step of my thought process.

I miss how livejournal represents high school. I don't miss high school, I don't miss livejournal per se, but I miss how it served literally as an alternate reality, or maybe complement, to our friends circle at Boston Latin. What so-and-so posted controversially on their livejournal could be the hot chatter in Ms. O'Malley's the next day. Not because that little drama was meaningful, but it was fun, funny, something to talk about. Our own way of asserting that we had a real life outside of a school that essentially sucked up any possibility for a real life. I do miss the cohesiveness of high school. Never thought I'd admit it. But I miss how we were all part of one routine, one slave-driving institution. Honestly, the toughness of the experience threw us together.

( Harvard Thoughts )

I can't wait to get back to the real world!

(even if I don't).

Circa June 2007

I haven't posted much since coming to college. And I remember when 
alliensis first went on hiatus, I assumed it as because he'd found a life at Harvard. Maybe.

In my case, it's not that glamorous or interesting. Freshman year has passed as if it hasn't passed at all - it's like my memories have been implanted. I remember my aching back after dorm crew, the awkwardness of freshman week, shuffling nervously in the back of lectures halls during my first "shopping period." I remember the endless number of times I had to introduce myself, "Hi, I'm Lisa. Boston. Pennypacker. Social Studies?" to the point where verbs and conjunctions were dropped.

And here I am now, on the eve of my last final, ready to receive my "go!" the gunshot, the green light, for summer to begin. And yet I don't think I'm ready.

It's not that Annenberg, or the Yard, or Sever Hall have endeared themselves to me in recent weeks. I just feel as if I've finally found my "rhythm" here, and that I'm ready to move beyond those speculations of do I belong here? Should I stay here? Why am I here? to Wow, I'm here. And I'm okay - just okay - being here.

What disoriented me about college (and what continues to disorient me) is how little you actually get to know people. That seems like a contradiction, since you're spending day and night at a school, living with people, sharing entryways, woes, seeing people at their most unattractive as they make their way from Lamont to their dorm, just short of the sunrise. And yet, despite these shared experiences I don't so much feel intimacy with the students here as a critical distance. A requisite of the Harvard lifestyle is the lonely orbit. You can surround yourself with as many glittering smiles, red-faced boys on Friday night, who'll handle your waist awkwardly before attempting a go at your neckline, but that type of interaction just epitomizes how anonymous we are to each other. Even if you experience, say, a male beyond your usual level of interaction at the local Starbucks, it doesn't mean he knows your name or will remember your face the next morning. You're just a pair of earrings, some finely applied eyeliner and lip gloss, a non-person that only exists for a night. Then, back to Lamont.

I'm not a chameleon, but I feel as if I often live out of my skin. I'm closest friends with my roommates and Nietzsche. I'm sick of Annenberg rations, and I usually opt for a pressed sandwich. I've taken caffeine pills. I've blacked out, and incidentally, made out with two boys in that state. I have no memory of it. I stay up till the wee hours of the morning trying to write convincing BS. I've written a 15-page paper in three hours. (It was extra credit). I've simultaneously lost and gained back an obsession to attain good grades. I haven't worked hard since senior fall.

I'm not happy, but I'm existing - simply enough. I think I'm alive, and I take the necessary steps to keep it that way (shower, toothpaste, food).

And somehow amid all this insanity, you tell yourself "I love life."

"You're breaking my heart."

Therapy: art history, expos.

Did Vesper love James?

Do you remember in elementary school how your teachers used to make you do activities that were relevant to the season? So, at Thanksgiving time, you'd probably hang up a turkey and tell your class what you were thankful for, and inevitably, you'd say your mom and dad, perhaps God if you went to Catholic school.

This year, well, first of all, I can hardly believe this year is nearly over. And it is: it's the last Thursday of the second to last month of the year, and I'm a college freshman.

I never thought I'd be here.

But here I am, so I probably should get over my utter astonishment. I was talking to Connie on the phone last week, and somewhere in the middle of all my rambling, she managed - "Oh, Lis, I can't believe how grown up we are." She didn't mean it in pompous way. She sounded honestly sad, because you can't ever recapture that je ne sais quoi of youth. It's that something that, if you think about it - and I don't mean any sort of idealistic picture of youth or something of overwhelming innocence or tenderness - it inspires such nostalgia. In movies, it might be captured in a montage of images of tire swings, lemonade stands, and your mother smiling indulgently at you. But you're utterly removed from it. It's a combination of both the actual images and your removal from them that creates this poignancy. You understand how impenetrable the past is, and yet this impenetrability also gives your memories a gilded quality.

I guess what I feel right now is "sepia," yes - the color.

I also have the opening credits song to Casino Royale stuck in my head.

ETA January 18, 2008: Hahaha, I was so naive.

I'm having an insanely good time at Harvard. Even though it's only been three days and I've been spending the majority of that time cleaning dorms from top to bottom, I'm lovin' it says Ronald McDonald.

Harvard Yard is beautiful. We're temporarily housed in Canaday, which is at the rear end of the Yard and adjacent to the Science Center and Annenberg ("the Harry Potter") Hall. It's so nice to wake up in the mornings and the first thing you see, when you peer outside your window, are students walking by in the early morning rush. Some with scarves swung casually around their necks, others doing a balancing act with coffee and books. Some just casually strolling by. I just love knowing all this is going on, and that beyond Memorial Church and the pillars in my view, are more trees and buildings and students in a hurry.

But the reason I am having such a good time is undoubtedly the people. I was so ... scared, to be perfectly honest, when I first got on campus. And I think from a long conversation today, I finally understand why: I was perfectly content one week ago with where I was in my life. Perfectly so. This doesn't mean that my life was perfect, but I'd reached this ultimate point of happiness, this emotional zenith I hadn't experienced before. It was still summer, I'd just returned from China and England, I'd been reunited with good friends, we had long conversations, and Boston, and my family and my mom, as always. And everything just felt so right in that moment. And everything in the last four years at BLS had felt as if it turned out so right. That whether by mistake or intention, I'd happened upon the best people I'd ever met in my life, and experiences which, even now as I meet new people, I constantly gush about. And to put it in very cliché terms, I felt what I acquired at BLS wasn't just a diploma in Latin but a real sense of myself; in other words, "I'd found myself" to an extent I'd never before in the past. And I think the honest reason for this was the people. I felt completely comfortable for the first time in my life being myself, embracing my quirks, celebrating those aspects of me that I used to think were "so weird." To leave that all behind, what felt like a good sense of ... life, I suppose, was frightening to me.

But now, halfway through the week, I can already tell how much I'll like it here. And the argument would be it's far too early to tell, but I think after these last few days, I've finally understood the truth of "college is what you make of it."

This song by Lily Allen is so catchy.

This Mongolian song, which was apparently big in China according to Oscar and Muching, is the bane of my existence.

I was supposed to go to work with my mom today ... but that didn't happen. Instead, I stayed up till 4 am, loading files from my home computer to this laptop. It stalled. Probably because I was transferring an elephant's load of files from my "downloads" folder, and I haven't even added my iTunes yet.

So, I'm moving in this Sunday to clean toilets for Harvard. Dorm crew is a good opportunity to meet other kids and it pays well at 11.20/hour. I'd been on the waitlist for months, but finally a few nights ago, while I was chatting with Olivia on AIM, we both discovered we'd gotten summons to scrub and clean Harvard dorms ... and I promptly filled out my employee card, and sold my soul to Fall Clean-Up.

Part of me wants to live at home next week because I'm not mentally prepared yet to be on campus. For the past few weeks, I've been getting ready for a September 9th move-in date, the Saturday when orientation starts. But now ... *breathe* now, my schedule's sped up an entire week, all the lounging I'd planned to do has gone up in dust. And the time I'd allotted to finish freshman seminar applications? Oops.

I'm suddenly really glad I'll be so close to home. If I had needed a plane ticket, I probably wouldn't have been able to do dorm crew and switch my flight. I'd have nowhere to leave my things, because Harvard only lets you bring basic necessities to preorientation and encourages you to ship your other belongings later. Now, I have a permanent storage center (my bedroom) just twenty minutes away by car, and a whopping two-hour commute on the MBTA. It's better than driving cross-country from San Diego.

The flip side of being so close to home is that there's not as much adventure when you go away to college. I won't be discovering a new city or learning new streets. I won't be navigating a new public transit system and asking silly questions like, "Does the purple line go to Harvard?" I won't be shocked, after a few months living in Cambridge, at how small Boston actually is and how useless it is having two T-stops in such close vicinity as Park Street and Boylston. But then there are other new adventures. Just the adventure of going to a new school, where the student body has collectively cured cancer, saved Africa and invented a new line of spaceships. The adventure of living in Boston outside parental control. The adventure of eating at Annenberg and marveling at how tasteless the entrees actually are. A culinary adventure if I've ever had one.

But I guess the part of me that doesn't want to move onto campus yet is the part of me still thinking it's summer, even as it's getting chillier and most schools have already opened. It's the part of me not ready to part yet with my bed at home, because it's so comfortable and not freakish like the extra-long twin beds at Harvard. And from a practical standpoint, I really, really need time to finish my seminar applications! But I'm also intimidated. Academically, yes. Intellectually, very much so. But socially, too. Going to a new school is always difficult. I remember I was really optimistic about Boston Latin in ninth grade, but it was hard adjusting at first and not knowing my way around. I remember walking the entirety of a floor to search for a classroom, when in fact, they were arranged quite logically by number. I remember spending Friday afternoons with other B-sies who were friendly, and who I smiled at or hugged at graduation, but besides Daniella, Jessica and a few others, none of them became my real friends. But we were all nice and accomodating because we didn't have a niche yet. And I know that there's going to be this transition period at Harvard. But I hope it's painless and fun. There are lots of BLS kids around, I know, and some really good friends like Monica. But when I think about facebook, how so many kids have already networked, gotten to know their classmates, who seem so psyched and ready for all this, I get scared. I want to have a good time. I really, really do. There's no reason why I shouldn't since I got to pick my college, I made the decision to go, I'm paying the ridiculous bill to attend.

I just hope it's all worth it.

- Chang An Jie is probably the most beautiful road in China. Some people think it's too wide, but I love it. It makes Beijing so easy to commute, especially if you have a bike or 2 RMB to catch a ride on the bus. Need to get anywhere? Just follow Chang An Jie all the way down. You'll pass Wang Fu Jing, Tian An Men, and Mao Zu Xi Ji Nian Tan in case you're interested in seeing Mao's (wax?) body. You'll cross rivers and see the flag-raising at dawn, if you're crazy enough to be riding by at 4 in the morning.



I stole this picture from this photographer, who seems to have traveled the world. That's Wang Fu Jing in the wintertime, a popular shopping district in Beijing which, as you can see, is overrun by western businesses.

And because I love bicyles so much, especially the ones in China that are old-fashioned and still cost less than 10 USD,



- Even though the public bathrooms were really ... something in Yunnan, in defense of this province, it has the most wonderful, wonderful, wonderful summer climate! I'm from Nanjing which is famous for being one of the "guo lu" (oven) cities in China. Imagine my relief when I stepped off the plane in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan, to find that I was actually shivering in my summer clothes. By the time we reached Shangri-La, towards the northwest of the province, I was wrapping myself in wool shawls in the morning to stay warm.



The highlighted province is Yunnan. It hugs Sichuan to the north, Tibet in the northwest and also Vietnam, Laos and Myanmar to the south. A pretty multi-cultural region; according to our dao you or tour guide in Kunming, Yunnan is made up of over 50 ethnic groups and tribes. The majority of China is Han zhu (group), but Yunnan also has prominent ethnic groups such as Naxi, Yi, Bai zhu.

Some fun slang from Yunnan: to say "to pee and poop" (why am I teaching you this?) is also the Chinese equivalent to "sing and dance," respectively (chang ge and tiao wu). The Yunnanese also have a saying "zhang cao, zhang hua, bu zhang ren," which means "we grow grass (and no, not that kind), grow flowers, but we don't grow people." Yunnan is famous for its beautiful scenery and nature, but because it's less industrialized than the rest of China, many of its people still follow the more traditional lifestyles of their ethnic group. They work hard, farm and their lives are rougher, so they tend to look older than some people might think. According to our dao you, a woman with a face full of wrinkles might not be even forty yet. "Don't make the mistake of thinking she's a lao tai puo (old woman)," she warned us. In Shangri-la, our dao you also warned us not to comb our hair or fix our appearance on moving vehicles, because the local ethnic group finds that offensive.

Besides the sweeping scenery in Yunnan, there's nothing quite like a real gu chen or "old city" in China. Below is the Lijiang Gu Chen.



- One thing that's sort of amazing in Beijing is the northern cuisine. You might get sick of it after a while, but there's nothing quite like a bowl of zha jiang mian. Lao Beijing (or old-style Beijing) restaurants are known for their all-male wait staff, who yell and shriek when customers come. "Wu wei!" they scream, meaning "a table for five!" Besides the quintessential egg-and-tomato dish that all Chinese people eat, Beijing also serves up some mean mian shi or dough products. Hence, the zha jiang mian. Beijing steamed bao zi (Chinese rolls with sweet or salty filling) and peking duck wrapped in mu xu bing (or mooshu, I've seen anglicized?) are amazing.



But that doesn't mean southern cuisine isn't good (in fact, it's probably better but this debate could go on for ages). Our friend in Beijing, who helped arrange our hotel and drove with us to the Great Wall, admits that the best Chinese food - in her very northern, very Beijing opinion - is actually from Sichuan. I'm part Sichuanese. My grandmother is from Chongqing, the capital of Sichuan, and I can attest for the amazing spices that go into a Sichaunese dish (ma puo do fu, anyone?)

Here's the rest of my pictures from Nanjing, Beijing and Yunnan. Shanghai's not in that album but you can probably google pictures of the city anyway.

To be continued with ... London, Brighton and Oxford, England.

ETA January 18, 2008: A journal entry that I never finished

Top 10 memories

10) The smell of a Chinese kitchen. There's nothing quite like it, really - part linoleum floor, part groceries, part lingering oil and spilled sauces - I knew I was in China the moment I smelled my aunt's kitchen. It's not exactly a pleasant smell or the stereotypical smell of a Chinese American home, where you're guaranteed to see foil wrapped around the stove and brown oil caramelized on it. Instead, it's a much more raw scent. In the summertime, my grandparents always leave their kitchen window wide open; the sliding doors, on the other hand, are always clamped shut. The moment you open them, you're overwhelmed by a blast of heat and then that smell. So memorable. So iconic. Some people cite a favorite teddy bear or ice cream parlor as their "great childhood memory." Mine is probably my grandparents' kitchen. There, we'd run sacks of rice under the water and comb through them for pebbles and shells. We'd cut open packets of Chinese "bread crumbs," mix them with sauces and water and then marinate slabs of beef in them, flipping them over and over again like elephants at a mud bath. Sometimes, we'd leave lychee, half-peeled and stemmed, in bowls of water to soak when company came. And there'd always be a shelf of different teas, mostly ju hua because that's what my family prefers.

9) Wal-marts in China. I know there've been reports for years about how fast China is growing economically, but as I've already told so many people, if you ever want a good topic to focus a paper on - look no further (or perhaps very far) to the Wal-marts in China. They epitomize modernization in China. Multi-purpose, multi-level and multi-cultural, the Wal-Marts are a true cultural and economic crossroads. They're big, perhaps desperately so, and stick out like sore thumbs in the dilapidated neighborhoods. But it's so interesting being in a place that's eerily familiar, and yet not, as if you were in a dream that distorted the way places appear. Wal-Mart, to an outsider, is a definite sign of China becoming steadily westernized; the Chinese would argue that they're personalizing their Western imports. After all, they've adopted Wal-Mart and made it something entirely their own. It's multi-level to suit the Chinese's purposes, housing a grocery store and department store in one. The grocery store sells foods I can promise would never appear at your local Shaw's. The department store, too, has a whole slew of appliances and products unseen in America.

The most impressive is the mosquito net. When I first got to my aunt's house, I was shocked by these canopies arching over their beds. In fact, these weren't canopies at all, but nets to keep mosquitoes out when you sleep. China is a nesting ground for "wen zi," and they're especially bloodthirsty at night, when your flesh is vulnerable and pink and lovely.

But was I impressed by Wal-Mart? I think dumbstruck is a better word. I can't have expected outdoor markets would've lasted forever in China without any competition. Last time I came back, which was a decade ago, I remember being so confused about why there weren't any grocery stores or department stores, only multi-level "malls" that had glass booths for different brands of clothes. I can't have expected China never to have imported Wal-Mart. But I think the outdoor market will survive for quite a while; in fact, farmers' markets are still popular sites in the West because of their promise of fresher food. I think people just instinctively like the more organic experience, when everything by comparison is packaged and polished. But I wonder what the reaction will be in China, since it's the very opposite. We've always had outdoor markets and farmers' markets, but they weren't quaint specialty stalls; they were our only source of food.

As Jefferey Eugenides wrote in Middlesex, sometimes, we just have feelings that are too complex for even a series of words to convey. Why can't English be insane like German where words are combined in strange mutations? Why are German words so long? They couldn't stop compounding. But length, itself, doesn't speak for complexity. In Chinese, the translation for Gone With the Wind is "piao" - a single character, and less clunky or cliché than the English title. But the nostalgia, the ruin are all conveyed in that one word, this idea of passing time and the impenetrability of the past are somehow all bundled up in few strokes.

So, as I search for the few strokes, the character, the German word that sums up my mood, I'd just like to report: it's absolutely true that the English consume most of the world's tea supply. And yes, it rains a heck of a lot there. And no, BBC weather never gets the forecast right.

I stayed with eala's family in Tufnell Park near Hampstead Heath and Highgate. Anneke actually used to live in Highgate village, up and hill and down a quiet street. Her parents were on sabbatical in England ten years ago and they spent a blissful year abroad. Blissful enough that they nearly moved to England permanently, if the job market had been more attractive.

But even though we lived outside London proper, I loved our small neighborhood. It was convenient: around the corner was a cluster of specialty markets (the -eries in French, chocolaterie, chacuterie, boulangèrie), small cafés and a Tesco's express. You could catch buses and the tube, and were only minutes' walk from the sprawling Heath, which was like a piece of countryside in the city. When I walked up to the Heath on my last night in London, I remember thinking how the hills and tall grasses genuinely reminded me of the landscape in the new Pride & Prejudice.

ETA January 18, 2008: Again, an unfinished entry hence it overlaps with the top 10 memories one.

are a novel experience in China.

I think if any student wanted to write a paper about China's economic growth spurt in the last decade and its impact on the developing consumerist culture, Wal-Mart would be the place to be. Walking around the "guang chang" today, I couldn't help but notice how the store epitomizes everything about China's rush to modernize: from its gleaming building, disconcertingly out of place in its dilapidated neighborhood; to its excess of choice, of color, of automated this, translated that; to the desperation of an all-purpose "supercenter!" with grocery store below, department, appliances, clothes above; and most of all, this overwhelming desire to be and to beat the West.

The Wal-Marts are designed, after all, to satisfy Chinese buyers who not only have money now, but choice. And the second is the far more valued currency.

Of course, it's also this buyer enthusiasm that makes China so exploitable. If any of you read the Newsweek feature about China's new "yuppie" culture, with a photo of Nanjing Lu in Shanghai on the cover, then you know exactly what I mean. Sadly, the story wasn't even stretching the truth when it cited a handful of outrageous anecdotes about China falling victim to every trick in the advertising book. For example, when Nike wanted to open branches in China, it encountered a dilemna when not many youths were interested in sports and its product. So, Nike took a huge leap of faith by developing a "sports culture" in China, sponsoring basketball tournaments and field days. Eventually, it paid off because Nike products started selling like crazy and the company more than made up for its debt. Everyone in China thinks Nike is the "it" brand; if you're cool, according to a national survey, then you own Nike.

The second part about the survey scares me the most. How these artifical, and perfectly typical brands, have breached the public

Originally, I was going to write a real entry, but I just finished typing the longest facebook message of my life to Linda.

...It's so hot that, in spite of the great food, I can't eat. We have watermelon every night. The public restrooms smell bad. I really want to go to Nanjing and see my grandparents, but I have to spend the next eight days traveling in the Yunnan(1) wilderness. Where the bathrooms are probably even worse.

But I do love China. I just love being in a country where pedestrians, bicylists, cars and taxis share the same lane, all thinking they have the right-of-way. Where your feet are never really clean, because there's just too much dust and grime and you can't be bothered to wear sneakers. And I love how my aunt in Wuhu lives in one of those high-rise apartments, where tenants pride themselves on their hardwood floors(2)! But there's hardly anything in this city except dust and dust and more dust, and on occasion, storms because of the humidity. Which is why I'm dying to go to Nanjing, where the humidity is even worse, but there's less dust and more lakes and trees and pretty roads.

I feel sticky. I like the whole water-conservation thing where you don't flush toilets at night, and you have to turn a knob for the boiler to start and the shower to heat. My sleeping schedule is erratic. It's almost midnight here, and noon in Boston.

I had to take those awful glamour photos today(3).They put a ridiculous amount of white powder on my face, then made me pose awkwardly (apparently, attractively)? So, once they develop the photos, they'll look nothing like me. Tomorrow, we have to go back to the studio to pick out photos. And I'll see just how great a bride, geisha, and coy Korean I make(4).

The Chinese are obsessed with k-dramas. They have a whole channel devoted to (badly) dubbed series. Tonight, they were airing a new drama with Rain(5), where he looks weepy but less immature than in "Full House"(6).

My mom's in the other room right now showing my aunt's family the Argo. She's trying to explain why our school is called Boston "Latin. "Contemporary classical education!" Of course, my aunt's family flips instantly, like the true Chinese they are, to the college list.

My cousin is two years older than I am, but he did badly on his exams last year so he's still waiting to start college. He applied to a joint English immersion and technology program in Hong Kong, and also withdrew his application from the Chengdu Institute for Xi'An. Even though we played lots when we were little, he's so different from me now. One of those Chinese kids who's stuck to his video games and computer. After we presented him with an iPod (a video one no less!), he's been uploading music and movies all day. We don't really talk to each other.

This is probably the longest facebook message in the history of facebook messages. But I figured since I won't be in touch for the next eight days, and who knows afterwards, since my grandparents don't use internet that much - I might as well. Let you know I'm alive. I'm also being eaten alive by mosquitos.

The mattresses are very hard and covered in tatami. They remind me of Japanese futons. There's also a bug screen that drapes over them like one of those princess canopies.


(1) A province in the south known for its scenery, mild summers and funny dialect; incidentally, where Helen Tu is from
(2) This is sort of a "cultural inside joke" because Chinese people can't get over their floors
(3) Glamour photoshoots are a ritualistic activity for every family returning to China. Ask any ABC. He's bound to have a photo album of ridiculously gorgeous photos that look nothing like him.
(4) The photo studios make you dress up in costumes for the pictures
(5) Famous Korean singer/actor, oddly enough, he was on TIME's 100 most influential people list last year
(6) No, not the show with Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, but a Korean series based on the manhwa by the same name

The only reason I've been posting exclusively about college or photos is because I've been so tired lately, and scared, to delve into my real feelings.

I went to Eastern Europe, made decisions and graduated all without mention in my journal. I'm not writing this note to apologize, but to shake myself. Because, before, writing here even in private entries was invaluable to me. I think it kept me sane.

Now, I feel so idle. I've been having fun with my recent "liberation" from high school, but all of a sudden, I feel as if I've missed some great milestones emotionally and mentally by not documenting these events' in my journal. I hate how sterile this entry is turning out. It was supposed to be one of those infamous one-liners eala always makes fun of me about. But more's coming out, and I can't really stop it.

Tomorrow will mark the beginning of a string of graduation parties. After which, I'll be so bloated that they'll have to roll me onto the plane to China. If any of you remember the New Years resolutions I posted in January, I was hoping to lose some weight before facing my relatives. As it is, I might as well enjoy myself now and stuff my face, before facing their disapproving looks later.



Now for your viewing pleasure, ( graduation omgwtfmate and miscellaneous summer snapshots: )

ETA August 31, 2006: Unlocked for viewing

I'm trying to find that center in me again: that place where words and thoughts originate.

But right now, I feel empty. I know it's a cliché to evoke the "Hollow Men," and to write, sallow-cheeked and tired, with coffee stains on your mug --

But that's how I feel inside.

I hate the way I look in the mornings, with my hair unkempt and the lines around my mouth especially pronounced. My lips are dry and my skin is oily. There is a definte look of fatigue that clings to me, as if I reek with lifelessness, two hollow holes cut out for my eyes. I hate this Lisa. Because I know that if I were beautiful, this Lisa would be appreciated.

And that's all I've ever wanted. I think how easy it is to lure your targets when you spill with beauty, until there's so much that eyes wait by you with buckets to catch it all. Afraid that somehow, overflowing, it will disappear. You literally want to bask in the gaze of a beautiful woman. You find yourself self-consciously touching your own nose and cheekbones, to find them, even by touch, hopelessly substandard to her noble features.

Then you think, of course, of the Man in your life. Or too often -- the Boy, whom you can't begrudge for falling victim to these tricks. These masks. Becuase you do, too.

You spend hours in front of your mirror, applying rouge, powdering your cheeks.

While she wakes up and walks out the door, effortlessly beautiful.

You watch as he follows her. And then disappears.