Despite my water bottle waking me up in the middle of the night by exploding for no reason and having to blindly towel up pink lemonade while ignoring my desperate need to pee because roomie was in the bathroom taking a shower – I slept great. Breakfast this morning was a persimmon picked from the backyard and green tea. I wonder what the statistical chances of my living in a house with persimmon trees were because, from my grandmother’s house in NC to this house in LA, I’m being followed by them. When I get my own home, I’ll plant a persimmon tree, too.
Expandings from yesterday’s post:
So the night before last, I woke up at 3:33 a.m. I don’t often wake up in the middle of the night, so I thought it was weird and found myself a little afraid. Yes, I believe in things like the spiritual realm and I very much do not mess with it. I think the more we open ourselves up to believing in things, the more likely they manifest. 3:33 a.m. is one of those things that used to scare me a lot, especially when I was a kid and a hardcore night owl. I think there are times in the day, when everything is dark and quiet and dead, that we are more perceptible to what’s beyond.
I couldn’t get back to sleep that night and decided to sleuth a bit on my long lost grandfather, Googling very specific phrases until I found a website that G.I.s were using to get back into contact with their teammates from Vietnam. On this website, I found my grandfather’s team in my family’s hometown of Châu Đốc and then, magically, him. He was there, alive as ever. His last post was on September 17th.
I found his Facebook, saw his picture, and knew it was him. He had my mom’s face. The long forehead, the pudgy tip of the nose, and the little chin. I sent him a message with a picture of my grandmother and my mom, asking to hear back. I wanted to wait for a reply, but I told my mom and sent her his and his wife’s Facebook pages anyways. My mom sent them to my oldest aunt and she confirmed it was him.
This whole ordeal has my whole family stunned. I guess they, like me, had assumed we would never find him. And after almost 50 years of not doing so, they were most likely right. But then it happened. I made it happen. I told the lawyer from Boston I found on AncestryDNA and he is doing some investigating, too. I love how nosy this guy is. I’m half a step away from asking if he’s taking on any interns or assistants or whatever because what is up my distant cousin, wanna help a young, smart gal out?
Now onto the purse…
I didn’t let my mom get it. She’s buying a reasonably-priced bag, once again. I feel a little bad always putting a limit on her grandiose expressions of love, but I’m just not high maintenance. I practically ran out of the mall yesterday, chased by my serious distaste for materialism. Yeah, I do like nice things. I’m a Libra, so pretentious and luxurious at heart. I hope one day I will be wealthy enough to support a starving artist, but that starving artist isn’t gonna be Louis Vuitton. Especially not at 24.
Nimra texted me saying she felt “more cultured and in tune with sociology” after reading my posts. I thought she wrote “scientology” and googled “Maddie Ziegler scientologist,” finding that, no, she is not a scientologist, for what it’s worth. I would not have been surprised though. I keep casually seeing all these people and it’s kind of like, okay, that’s cool. I don’t approach famous people just because they’re famous. I once got Junot Díaz to sign a book for me and even that was a lot. Saul Williams gave me a signed patch once and that was a lot, too. And Ezra Miller was at the Saul Williams thing and we stood next to each other watching Saul, but I didn’t say anything to him despite being very excited he was there because, okay, that’s cool.
One of my aunts called me this morning and we talked for 10 minutes. She asked how I was doing and if I was coming back any time soon. She asked if anything has “shocked” me. This aunt recently got liposuction and admitted, “It’s what I do for beauty…” She’s only a few years older than me so we could be friends, but we met at an odd point in our lives. Grandma was dying and I was depressed. She had two kids, her parents, and was locking down my 50-year-old uncle for financial security. I’m supposed to call her “mợ ba” in relation to her partnership with my uncle, but I just call her cô Vy, indicating that she’s not just my aunt – she’s a person.
I told her I would be staying here and she should come out by herself, without the kids or anyone else. I could take her around and she can feel like the twentysomething she is. I think I’m at a point in my life now where I feel comfortable enough to be myself. With my family, I was always a kid. I was grandma’s favorite. I was bé Như. Now I’m Jennifer, or Jenni, or Jen, depending on how much I like you, how close we are, or how close you think we are. Life continues to be… something.
A STOR¥ BY ? 