so I spent my first official week as a resident of the South bay.

went up to San Francisco, hoofed Chinatown with a friend and had a blast. I can never get sick of it there, I love eastern culture.

We ended up going to a mall of sorts, which I really could have done anywhere. I am such a good little capitalist. :) Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

Ate mostly vegetarian or vegan food. I feel as though it's helping me keep my weight regulated, like Katia (Hollywood Renegade) told me would happen. I feel like my metabolism has kicked up a notch too, though I really don't know why.

Oh, got my septum pierced. Guess the guy who did it doesn't even pierce anymore, it was a favor for my friend. Nice huh? The guy is a tattoo artist, and a realy good friend of a friend. He just did the piercing to be nice.

It pinched, I turned pallid as a chlorox-ravaged sheet, I am told, and nearly passed out. That happens every time I get pierced though, since I have nil blood pressure.

He warned me that it would pinch a bit, and I felt as though I was ina doctor's office. The guy orders sterile steel supplies, then sterilizes them a second time, just to be sure. I was impressed, which doesn't happen easily.

I sat there on the giant ottoman of truth, the one you lean back on at the gynecologist's office, and swung my legs like a little kid anticipating a tetnis shot.

In the face.

Admittedly, when it comes down to it, I am a wuss. I don't blame it on my gender, I blame it on lousy nerves. Worrying, anxious, Catholic-guilt ridden nerves.

My friend , (who, coincidentally, used to be a piercer) went to hold my hand and the hollow point needle went through. It was mostly pressure, like the piercer warned, but it did hurt a bit. For a fraction of a second. The thing I noticed most was that it felt heavy. All of a sudden there was this weight in my nose.

Previously, I had always taken blowing my nose for granted. Now, it is one heinous excursion every time I feel the need to blow (my nose, jerks). There is a lot of manuevering with the kleenex involved. It's not a dainty process, but it's only temporary, according to my friend, who also has one.

The funny part is, my Dad didn't even notice this metal thing descending from my face today when I came in...

"Notice anything different?" I tilted my chin up, perhaps the light would catch the steel and he would see the glint.

"Nope." He said. Ah, the patronly robot that is my father. He went back into his office and plopped back in front of the computer. Emotionless. It's like living with a bigger version of yourself, except that I am a fluffy bunny rabbit, and he's a big grumpy teddy bear.

I've got to come up with a plan to cheer him up. Tried Rolos in a last ditch effort to make him crack a smile the other day. It worked....for about thirty seconds. Then he went back to watching the projector and web surfing on his Mac.

:(

I wish there was something I could do to cheer him up. After not talking for seven years of my life (all on his end, not to lay blame) it's hard to figure out what happened to my care-free, happy dad. He used to be so optimistic, so full of ridiculous anecdotes about his side of the family and when he and my mom were young.

I know it's not my responsibility to try to make anyone happy (hello, Andrej..) but it's hard, because I see so much of myself in his behavior....the isolation, the deep depression when I'm not working...my road rage ect.

I'll figure something out, I'm not giving up on him yet. My dad is in that big gray robot, somewhere, and I'm going to yank him out if I have to fucking force feed him rainbows and goddamn sunshine.

xo.

-Alicia