January 3rd, 2023
Dearest Journal,
Today I will describe to you my day of homesickness.
Let’s start now, shall we?
I guess I should start at the beginning. You see, as usual, I stayed up late writing again to my heart’s content, and everything was going perfectly. That is, until it didn’t…BOOM… morning hits, and I feel like the living dead and am like a dead fish for like an hour or two. Then, after sorting through my exhaustion, I haul my ass out of bed and eat a little pathetic breakfast. THIS IS OK. (My overindulgence will be revealed in due time). After this, I think, “What am I doing with my day and then I think to myself, “Let’s walk down Main Street, eat something for a late lunch, and then snail crawl to Japantown via bus”. Off I went into town after that, down the MILE-long HILL.
And remember we’re from Boston, NOT SAN FRAN. We are native to horrible Chinese food and winter nights, not foggy days and heavenly Asian cuisine. And you know I’m walking down that street that looks a lot like home, and I think “this is very fucking nice”. Then suddenly I’m THERE! I kid you not, fog turns to clear skies, and apartments morph into a fucking mall, and big bro Jason is calling me into the mall! But then, just as I’m about to walk in…I’m slamming into stucco, and a bump appears on my head. And then, when my head comes to and I’ve recovered, I feel empty for a second, but then I’m like, what the hell, and I continue on my walk down the street. (DAMN I gotta write down that fog thing in more detail later! This is interesting shit.)
Ok, back to the plot (jeez we’ve only covered 1 out of our 4-page goal today! Sh*t), I continue down the street, and I spot Auspicious Blossom (ok the name is wrong, but it’s the Chinese place we adore so much) and I’m like, I will treat myself today (especially after getting bumped on the head!). And remember, we like it not for quality but for nostalgia, and what have we learned? Nostalgia is key when we rarely feel at home here (I mean seriously: The China town gate sucks, and the buildings are literally concrete shaped from the same mold (I will not acknowledge the s name here (> u <)). Plus, we also know it’s one of the few places we feel at home in San Fran. (WOW, that’s another good observation. Note to self: Scribble on entry and make notes later. (AND DO THIS SOON)
Now, after this, we have finally boarded the bus to Japantown and surprise, surprise, the first pit stop destination is…… The tiny Japanese-owned bookstore where we can find MANGA!!!! What’s the best part, you ask? It’s not textbooks, and none of its contents are already on the home bookshelf! We’ve gotten historical spinoffs, religious cult mangas, and best of all, corny romance tropey stories about love I will never ever have! (Forgive that slightly depressing comment at the end pls.)(Also this totally didn’t make me miss the og Boston home bookshelf and that tiny used bookstore we love going to >^< and I totally don’t want to go back ever!)
SO ANYWAY, I finish looking, find some spicy manga I want to devour and rant to you about later, and start window shopping around the mall. You and I both know how this goes: I weave through crowds like a fish, glance at windows a lot, and after around 3 rounds of wandering the mall like a roulette table going round and round, we land on a random store, and I go in. So this particular one we have landed on is tiny. AND I MEAN IT. There are people packed into it the moment I walk in (but you know me, I look around for stuff anyway). SO, while I’m there, we see: expensive, more expensive, and oh wait, trinkets and……dum dum dum….. it happens again. BOOM, flashbacks to that random collection of houses from that vacation in Peru.
BOOM, I feel like I’m back shopping with Mum for Black Friday, and all I feel a pang in my chest. (Damn, I might miss Bostonian culture more than I thought?! Damn, E, can you go a day without brainstorming or writing?!)
Then I hear my stomach grumble, so I go out of the store, have another flashback (which I’d prefer not to describe, thank you. FINE, you get a hint: I am acting like a frigging fish. A FISH!), get hit again, and then literally stumble into a tiny-ass ramen shop on the first floor of the east side. That reminds me: ramen, oh ramen savior of modern food, how godly can thy father beseech this heavenly dish by simply cooking this for thyself and thy brother in less than one measly hour, oh great high priest of cooking. (Was that too dramatic? I apologize if you found that unbearable! (No, I do not actually.)) SO, I take a bite of my actual ramen, and I think, damn, this is a lot like Dad’s, and then I’m crying. Like seriously, when did this last happen? Why now? Why Boston? When the hell did I miss my annoying family this much?!
AND of course I envision the house. I see the blueness of it, I see the suburbs, I see the fricking solar panels on the fucking roof, and I pine for thy throne hanging above the porch. So, I sit there a while and then back home I go. (HOME at last. Should that make the cut?)
This is where you come in; on the bus I get this gut feeling to write to you, process the shitshow I’ve had of a day. You know why? I can’t go back to Boston in a second, but hell, I can capture everything I felt before distance or time chases them away. Anyway, reality hits me: I miss Mum and Dad; I desire bro who paints too much, Mum with her book reviews, and Dad who stays up freakishly late for homework. And here we are! The time is 2 AM, and you know what the hell! School is on break! I’m booking a plane ticket! Let’s go home! To Boston!
(The flight is at noon tomorrow, BTW)
Night, and thx for letting me vent; that felt good as F*ck. –E.
This was written by our contributing writer, Emma Kwan.
Image Source: Pexels, Tapas S
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