บุญคุณ

Spent my last cash on cameras, plane tickets (yes, plane tickets, back again soon so holler at me - you + me = next week?), film for my instax, normal photo film and whatnot in down town today. I am officially broke until Tuesday. Fuck. FUCK.

First I was like "omg lulz whatever, gonna call motherrrr" but then I realized I had asked her to stop pouring in money in my account, because I felt too privileged. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me. "Oh mom, I have way too much money, I can't handle it, so plz stop?" Fuuuuuuuck

Okay, I'm only broke until tuesday, but dayum, this sucks. Anyway, ended up saying "baby, nooo!" to my MasterCard outside a clothing store, when I realized I didn't have enough money to buy what I wanted. Fuck. I actually talked to my MasterCard. What.

And yes, someone caught me talking to my MasterCard. He stared at me, semi scared. I smiled to him (rather awkwardly) to assure him that I'm perfectly normal but meh, I sort of failed at that. Sigh. Aphinya, scaring away guys since the early 90's.

Anyway. Went out for some drinks with a few other Thai girls today. We talked about the usual stuff, our dislike for the majority of humanity, Asian expectations etc.

Asian expectations, huh? I feel brainwashed somehow. Like, I've been taught from an early age that sending money back to my family is just something I do without question it, and even know when I'm (supposed to be) adult, I have a hard time question it. I just do it. Because that is what you're supposed to do, if you're Thai. It's about duty.

Like (one of my favorite words) a Thai girl we didn't know approached us in the restaurant and at first we were like "hey girl heyyyy" and "giiiiirl, where you from, north east??? OMG WE'RE FROM NORTH EAST TOO!!!" but when we realized she couldn't speak one worth Thai and most importantly - Isaan and that she didn't sent any money back home to her grandparents, the sisterhood kinda stopped.. I mean, of course we were still nice to her and we had fun, but it was not the same.

I know I shouldn't judge her, but at the same time it's hard, because I have such a hard time understanding why she can't speak Thai, Isaan and why she doesn't send back any money to her grandparents. First I thought she was adopted, but no. I mean, I would definitely have been able to understand her situation then, but this? I don't get it. I just don't.

It's called บุญคุณ. Bhun khun. You grow up and you work hard and pay back your parents, grandparents etc by.. You know, generally speaking บุญคุณ is what one ends up owing, in an obliging fashion and without regrets or hesitation, to your parents and your better teachers. It may be a bit awkward to translate directly into English, but I don't think the sentiment is difficult to grasp.

Okay okay okay, truth is, I didn't treat the Thai girl who approached us very well, when I found out she knew nothing about her background. She didn't even know what the hell I was talking about when I mentioned som tam. Som fucking tam. How the hell can you be Isaan and not know som tam? Fuck. 

I ignored her afterwards. I didn't say anything to her, but not saying anything was pretty much the same as saying "lol bitch hell naww, you no belong hiiir". I feel bad for having rolled my eyes at her and saying things like "what is she doing here? she's clueless" in Isaan to the other girls right in front of her.

I don't know why I reacted so strongly. Why did I even care, when I normally don't care much at all?


Oh well. I made this:

Homemade Thai food. Yummy x 500000

 

ligegyldighed

I'm thinking about dreams right now. Like, there are rules in dreams which you just don't break, even though you have no idea what they are or mean. Something like that.

Great. Just spilled hot chocolate all over my lap. Ok. Moving on.

I wonder why on earth I ended up in the west. Sometimes it feels like a mistake. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for everything, but you know, I can't stop thinking about "what if" scenarios etc. Sometimes I feel so lonely here. It's so cold. 

I don't consider myself superstitious or too religious, but at the same time I think a lot about the spirits and the gods my family pray to. I miss Thailand. I miss seeing colored cloths on tree trunks. If the clothes are saffron colored, it means the tree is a holy tree of Buddha and if the cloths are multi colored, it means they are inhabited by a spirit. 

I miss seeing that. I miss listening to my grandparents tales about spirits, gods,  ancestors, etc. There aren't any tales left for me here. I know I'm lucky. I still remember the days where we didn't have anything. Everything is different now. I have too much. 

I went out shopping yesterday. I only spent a little over 1400, so I didn't spent as much as usual, but you know, it was nice. Got a few shoes, a few dresses and whatnot. Walking around with shopping bags full of clothes made me feel.. Satisfied. 

Then I got home and realized that everything is pretty much still shit. Just stared on my phone. Wanted to call my family, but I didn't. Meh.

Forced myself to be all happy when I went out for a few drinks with Malee and some other girls. Oh luls, everyone know me as happy Aphinya. Funny Aphinya. All that shit. If just they knew. But they don't.

Urgh. Why is it so cold? Fuck. 

Daddy issues

My biological dad called today. He asked if I was doing okay. When I was in the middle of telling him about wanting to meet my sisters when they got older, he interrupted me and asked if I could send down some money. You know, just a couple of thousand bucks.

I didn't know what to say, so I sort of just held my breath for a bit. Then he started talking again. "don't you love me?". I didn't want him to hear my cry, so I hung up, lay down on my bed and pulled a duvet over myself.

I've spent years trying to track him down, to apologize for being a brat when he met me back in April 04.. But I actually regret having heard from him again. Ok, that wasn't a nice thing to say, but it's just.. You know, it hurts.

A friend of mine once asked me why I answered my biological dad's calls anyway. I understood his question, but at the same time it disappointed me that he didn't see it from my side. Like, he's my fucking dad. I want to know him. I want him to know me. And even though I know he's more interested in my wallet than me, I still cling to the hope that he'll see me for what I really am one day. His daughter - not an ATM. 

Oh well, shit happens. Gotta suck it up.

On a lighter note: Just finished reading Day By Day Armageddon. Again. For the 3rd time within a week. J.L Bourne, I love you. One of the best zombie novels. Ever.


Dun dun dun, what to read next.

Hitchhiking stories & fat punks not dead

Some photos I snapped when I visited friends in the H42 squat in Oslo, a few months before it got evicted.

That's how I rolled. I traveled a lot. Hitchhiking, backpacking, bus, trains, cross country biking, whatnot. I listened to a lot of punk. Still do. Not so much into hardcore though. More into crust. 

So well, I basically moved around from collective to collective, hitchhiked, spent my nights at unusual places on the road (various benches, under bridges, under the skies on random fields, in junkie parks, regular parks, under a van, tree houses, wendy houses, garden sheds, barns, roofes, along river banks, etc - with or without tents and sleeping bags) between a collective and another. 

Sometimes I traveled with a friend, sometimes I traveled with strangers. Still have nightmares about the Emmanuel guy. In short: I was 16. Met a guy named Emmanuel in Stuttgart at Be Part Fest (a punk festival). Some of my friends were hitchhiking to Barcelona and I wanted to go too, but hitchhiking 3 is kinda hard, so I was happy when we met Emmanuel. 

Flo and Hannes hitchhiked together and Emmanuel hitchhiked with me. Fail? Yes. He went nuts after a few days on the road. Started talking about God. He said something a la "dude, God gave me a vision", like multiple times when we were up in the freakin mountains, shit am. I was tired. Couldn't take it anymore. But it was so late and he had thrown his sleeping bag, passport, money, purse, canned food and whatnot in a river while still being in his "duuuude god gave me a mission" mode, so I couldn't just leave him. After all, I had the only sleeping bag and it was really damn fucking cold, because we were so far up. 

So I stayed with him and listened to all his bullshit until dawn. We slept in a park. People stared at us, like we sick or something. Like it was contagious. But I didn't care, just listened to punk rock and waited for the sun to rise, so I could get the hell away from him. 

I ran away when I saw the sun starting to come up. Didn't have any money because my purse was in the backpack he threw out, but I didn't care, I just wanted to get away. Jumped a train to Paris. Ended up sleeping in a park with junkies. They were nice though. Even offered me meth (or crack?). I mean, I suppose that was a nice thing, considering they were poor hobo junkies... But well, obviously I said no. Just wanted to listen to punk rock and get some sleep. 

Ok. That was the Emmanuel story. I actually met him in Denmark at Shittown punk fest later. He told me he jumped a train to Paris right after me and that he ended up in a mental institution in Paris because he had been walking around, screaming to God and making a scene at Arc de Triomphe. Meeting him again was very awkward.

Anyway, I was actually supposed to tell something about Norway. But now I can't remember what I was going to write. My memory span is made of fail.

Wait. Have I already scribbled the Emmanuel story down before? Shit I can't remember.

But here are the photos:

Grå dage

Ok. Went out with some Thai girls, everything was cool. Some Latino guys were staring at us, when we danced with each other. No, we did not make out and/grind each other and discretely looking at guys while doing it, in order to draw male attention.. We just danced. You know, we were just some happy girls dancing with good friends and having fun.

Anyway, the Latino guys closed in on us. One of them started dancing behind me. Or wait, dancing? It was more something a la rubbing his fucking dick on my butt. What the hell was he thinking? "Uh, if I grind this girls ass then she will totally sleep with me?" DUDE. I DON'T KNOW YOU. GET YOUR DICK AWAY FROM MY ASS. Thank you.

Anyway, tried ignoring him. Didn't work. He squeezed my ass. Lolfuckingwat. Who the fuck squeezes a strangers ass? I turned around, rolled my eyes at him and made it clear that I didn't want anything to do with him. But did that work? No. He simply said "damn you Asian girls got sum serious cum-fu. Spicy!". Fuck. FUCK.

Anyway. I met him again when I was on my way home alone. Didn't want to stay and keep drinking, just wanted to go home and check up on rolls of film and whatnot. I dunno, I suppose I just like being alone. When I was sitting outside, inserting a roll of film inside a camera, he came over and apologized. I smiled and said it was ok. Then he moved closer and asked me if I was down to do something. Then he grabbed my arm and said "come on girl, I know you want to" and tried sticking his other hand up under my skirt. Shit, that freaked me out. Didn't really know what else to do, so I ran.

Jesus fucking christ. I don't really feel going outside these days. Just want to stay inside, looking at endless rolls of destroyed film. I will never be able to use them again, but you know, being in the darkroom is comforting. I like it there. It's nice being able to shut off the rest of the world.

I'm over everything that happened back in February 10', but at the same time, I suppose I'm not. Like, I can't stand being touched, but at the same time, I'm yearning after the whole "imma give you a hug and tell you that everything is going to be ok" package. Does that make any sense? I fucking hope so.


Uh. Good news. Anna is coming over with smoked duck, garlic bread, avocado salad, more garlic bread, lobster with chives mascarpone.. And wine!


I love you Anna

Lort

Haven't really slept the last couple of days. The border between reality and fantasy seems to become increasingly blurred. Went to the darkroom. Someone had turned on the light. Thanks for ruining my latest photos. I wanted to scream and fucking bang my head against the wall.

Instead I went back. Anna was there. We shared a bottle of whiskey, while she talked about all the guys she had fucked since new years eve. I sat in front of the mirror meanwhile, smearing red lipstick on. I wanted to fucking stab myself in the face with the lipstick. If just it was a knife. I hate mirrors, but at the same time I can't walk past one without glaring at myself. Sigh.

Great. Michael just contacted me. I don't want this to happen. I wish he could realize that I'm no good and stay away. I want to call him and tell him that I'm sorry and whatnot, but oh well. This is for the greater good. Sigh. The cutest guy of Hunter freaking college. I'm sorry for being a bitch, but he'll thank me one day, for not dragging him with me down.

.. Some woman just approached me in the local grocery store. She asked me if I liked apples. Didn't say anything. Just stared at her. I wanted to bitch slap her and throw her down some flight of stairs which lead into a big pit of fire. Dunno why. Just felt like it.

I get that urge sometimes. You know, flipping out in front of strangers, just to see how they react. To see if they actually give a fuck.

Ok. Ended up talking with Michael. Why does my heart feel so bad? I wish he was here right now. But I'm no good for him, so even though I want to be with him, I'm trying to keep my distance, because he's just.. Way too good for me. Besides, I like him too much. And I don't want that, because I like having my feelings under control.

Sigh. Why is he so stubborn? I wish he could realize that I'm no fucking good and move on. Open your eyes, son. Fuck. This fucking love story motherfucking sucks. I want a fucking happy ending, God. Give it to me you bastard. Ok ok, I know I'm being selfish. Letting Michael go is the best thing I can do for him - but it's hard. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Hearing him say I'm beautiful and that he just wanna be around me, made my heart skip several beats. But then I realized he was high. Oh. Bummer. I'm his, and he doesn't even know it. And now it's all too fucked. Sometimes I wish he hadn't entered my life. I told him he was one of the best things that happened to me way back in fall. I wonder if he can remember that, or if he was too high. Huh.

Anyway. I'm tired. I don't really know what to do with myself right now. Ate ice cream with a friend a few hours ago. I can feel how I'm slowly starting to resent myself for every minute. Urgh. I wanna look like Isabelle Caro.

Ok. I'm hungry, but lazy as fuck. So I google pictures of food instead. Sigh. This is sad + I need a hug.


Dun dun dun. Some photos of my day with Ibbers, a long time ago. Or actually just 2 months ago, but I consider that to be a long time. Did I already upload these photos? I can't remember. God! I'm getting old.

Nej

                                           

Everything seems to be so fucking perfect on the outside. But nothing of it is real. I don't know why, but I feel like being 100% percent honest for the moment. I get this urge sometimes. Maybe because I spend so much time hiding my feelings and lying. I don't lie about big things, but if someone ask me if I'm doing fine, I always say the same. I always tell them that everything is okay, even though it's bullshit.

I hate my body, because I used to be skinny - and I loved it. I loved lying down in bed, feeling all my bones and being so painfully hungry, without giving after. A few girls in class told our teacher about their eating disorders and whatnot. I despised them for giving up. I distanced myself from them, because they were losers. But our teacher just told them how brave they were. Urgh.

Me? Well. My mom gave me diet pills for Christmas and taught me not to give up. She taught me that purging after dinner is perfectly okay. Every time I ate a bit more than usual for dinner, she used to look at me, and then she would say "do you want to look like an elephant? no one is going to love you" to me, in Isaan. My mother tongue.

Pig, elephant, hippo, etc. That's what my mom used to call me when I did
something wrong. This day today, I still react when people say pig, hippo etc. I just got too used to being called ugly names, so they sort of became a part of me. My name is Aphinya. It's pronounced Apiña. My name means gorgeous beloved flower in Thai. But instead, I react to names related to big and clumsy animals. Ironic.

I remember sitting and reading about concentration camps once. God, I felt so jealous. I wanted to look like the girls in the photos. Frail, skeleton like, beautiful. But instead I looked like a pig. Still do. Back when I was 14, I bought a book about torture victims, and stumbled upon Junko Futura, a Japanese girl who got abducted when she was 17 and held for 44 days. I remember reading about how she got tortured. It was pretty brutal. Her nipples were cut off, her eyelids burned with cigarettes, fucked with scissors, hands smashed by weights, raped, flammable liquid poured on her legs and then lit on fire, etc. And yet I just got jealous. Because apparently she managed to lose a lot of weight.

I just want to be skinny again. Not thin, but skinny, dying. I feel lost under all these layers of fat. I used to be so beautiful once, back when I could feel all my bones and count all my ribs. But that was such a long time ago, so I can't really recall having been beautiful. It's like Michael's voice. I know that I love his voice, but I honestly can't remember it anymore. I just know that I love it. It's soothing, calming and makes me long for spring and well, him.

He's basically all I want. But I've had my chance. I opened up and I wanted to tell him so much about myself. Which is strange, because I usually don't get that feeling of wanting to share that much. But he's special. But he'll just make me sad, so instead of starting something I know is good for me, I started ignoring him, hoping he would stop contacting me. I regret being a bitch and not contacting him, but that's just how it is. Sometimes love's not enough when the road get's tough. I just wanted to fool around. I didn't know I was actually going to fall for him.

I suppose I'm just afraid that guys are going to turn out to be just like Jordan. After we started living together, everything quickly deteriorated. He started calling me names. Bitch, fat, ugly, gross, pig and whatnot. And if he didn't like what I had cooked, he made me cook something new for him or else.. Well. I ended up in the hospital a lot. Bruised.

It all ended one day when he he headed off to the airport while I was showering, on his way back to the Southwest. I freaked out when I realized that he was gone and went out, trying to find him - only wearing a dress. In the middle of February.

I didn't find him. Instead, I ran into two guys near the forest. I asked if they had seen him. They asked me to come closer. You know, some say they can't recall a thing, that it's all blurry for them. That they blacked out. Unfortunately, I didn't black out. I remember thinking what I had done to deserve it.

Afterwards, I felt like my life was a fucking joke. I just wanted to die. My parents were in Thailand and didn't felt like they needed to get back asap to see if I was okay. And Jordan? He pretty much just laughed over the phone, said I looked like a toad and that he didn't care. Heh. That's what he said, when I needed him the most. Even though he started making fun of my rape, I didn't hung up. I just asked him if he was okay and if he needed anything.

I suppose I started suppressing all the positive feelings for real after that, because I was afraid of being happy. Still am. I fear that the world will come crashing down if I let myself be happy for one moment. But at the same time, I'm longing to feel happy again. Which is ironic, because I don't really remember how it is to be happy. So I suppose I'm yearning for something unreachable.

I'm afraid to get hurt, so I close down. Which just makes me lonely in the end, because I always end up losing someone on the way.

Oh, when did life become this miserable? It's like I can't feel a thing, but at the same time I feel so bruised. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, because I'm so tired of everything. I'm not sad, I'm just so tired of how bleak everything looks. But even though I'm so exhausted and miserable, I can't really feel a thing. Or, I suppose I can. But I have a hard time focusing on the positive feelings.

Seeing what I've become, makes my heart ache. Every time I see myself in the mirror, it's like I can feel my heart break in tiny pieces. I hate mirrors, but at the same time I can't help looking at my own reflection every time I walk past a mirror. Sometimes I just stand in front of my mirror, for minutes and minutes.

 It's hard to believe I used to be beautiful once. But again, that was such a long time ago. I ended up in an international boarding school in Thailand, where the teachers forced me to eat. I slowly started to gain weight, and see where I am now. Sigh. I hate being so horrible ugly.

Someone just asked me how I can be down. After all, everything is utterly awesome in my age. Thing is, I'm not sad or anything. Just really disappointed over how life has turned out to be. Meaningless. But at least Jordan is dead. Knowing he's not going to hurt me anymore makes life a little less miserable.




There's too many people on this earth. We need a new plague.