E ho`olohe... pau ka papa.

[ back | up | next ]

dateline: oZville

26 august 1996 11:15 p.m.

I'm alive. Actually, I'm better than that. I'm tired as hell, but as these dancing pixels demonstrate, this trans-dimensional feline didn't sacrifice one of her four remaining lives to the terror of classes after all. Of course, I only had two classes today. I just reviewed my day's notes. Rather, I just dug through a mysteriously damp pile of badly scribbled notes on the backs of receipts, more than a few Post-Its, one napkin and other assorted scraps. Okay, so I forgot to bring paper to school. Bits of paper fit better in pockets, anyway, and besides, I'm not going to start borrowing stuff from classmates this early. (If you're patient and clever, you can sometimes score a textbook -- I did!) It's pretty much a waste of everyone's time to go to classes on the first day. Lots of boring getting-to-know-you chitchat, professors rambling about how they barely escaped becoming high school guidance counselors, and endless poring over disgusting little fibrous creatures known as syllabi. Of course, I got homework. But moderately cool homework. I'm glad I signed up for Elementary Hawaiian. Even though my instructor only graduated from this very university five months ago (yes, it's a very young field), he's pretty together (or akamai -- whee!). Everyone in the class speaks pidgin, though, I guess making me the de facto Head Nerd. Let me digress. Pidgin is Hawaii's unique brand of Creole, which you're supposed to be able to speak so long as you're a local. Sadly, I somehow failed to pick it up -- despite being a product our illustrious public school system. So, like most island bananas (or Twinkies, or whichever painfully non-PC term you'd prefer), I've endlessly suffered the barrage of Smart Kid Questions: "Are you from the Mainland?" Or, "Did you go to private school?" (Sometimes people are insulting enough to ask, "Did you graduate from Punahou?") Go rent "Picture Bride" for a taste of pidgin... note that it has to be subtitled, even though in that movie only a mild variety is spoken. Worse, I think I'm the only junior/senior in this class. Half the other kids got lost trying to find the room. If anyone finds out how long I've been there, I'm gonna end up leading campus tours to the Language Labs waaaaay up at Moore Hall. So the homework: I have to pick a Hawaiian name for myself. It sounds cool, but for me it bites. I'm a sucker for deep meaning and symbolism -- I want a name that'll make 'em ooh and ahh. But if I'm not careful, I could be as unlucky as the residents of some places around the island -- the street names translate into weird things like "pig droppings" and "eye boogers" and "toilet" (Lumiauau Street in Waipahu -- strangely fitting). Most of the other students have given Hawaiian names. Pretty common ones, all around. Ku`uipo (my love), Leina`ala (fragrant leis), Pohaku (rock), Ikaika (strong). Any Hawaiian experts out there? Help! If I decide to be totally obnoxious, I'm going to start dropping a few Hawaiian phrases here as I learn them -- with translations, of course. At least you don't have to record yourself on tape saying stuff out loud, let alone take a final. There was a live band at Campus Center, or two, I'm not sure. "Surf Psycho Sexy" were the headliners, they open at concerts a lot (or so I'm told). Surprisingly, they were quite good. My only problem with them was that they only played covers; all songs that were in heavy rotation on MTV's "120 Minutes" about two months ago. Way too much Pearl Jam. Some okay (but sadly brass-free) Bosstones. They did play the Toadies song "Possum Kingdom" pretty well, which I've always liked (does anyone know, definitively, whether its about a rapist or a vampire?). Speaking of song interpretations... though another diarist's theory about telemarketers almost works, I'm pretty sure "Spiderwebs" by No Doubt is about a loser guys. I certainly wouldn't have such a cool answering machine without 'em! Derek called me tonight, checking if I was okay. His voice was soft; think I worried him. His prescription? "The Island of Doctor Moreau" this weekend, and maybe another 'blading excursion. I should go psycho more often. Wonder of wonders, he actually nervously joked that now it will be even harder to "nail me down for a date" with school back in session. The laugh and sigh and second of silence that followed gave me a rush. I told him he was wrong. I sure hope he's wrong. I'm still stressed, though. Today was easy. Tomorrow I get out of class at 2:30 and start a four-hour shift at work at 3:00. Same thing on Wednesday and Thursday. Next Monday's a holiday, though. I love this country. Wait. There are no holidays in October. I hate this country. Found this poem in the Blowfish catalog. I'm sharing it mostly because I swear on my goldfish's grave that I wrote something almost identical in high school (though the snobs at the lit mag rejected it). (Untitled) In the dark humidity I lie wrapped only in a sheet, Pretending to be asleep as you approach, Not to discourage, But to use your curiosity to my advantage. I feel your weight on the bed Near my uncovered feet Working its way up As your nose discovers patches of sweat On my ankle and hidden at the top of my calf, In that ticklish spot behind my knee. You use your body to part my legs, Wading upstream until you can rest your head on my thigh and there Fall asleep, purring contentedly While I scratch behind your ears. Rosie Krantz Gods, my mind's crammed with stuff to tell (and I've a good wad of notes taken just for this purpose, mind you), but my eyes are so dry they hurt. I'm turning in.