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I'm a college senior, freelance writer and copy editor nomming my way through San Diego, California. I founded the blog
mymomisafob.com. It's OK if you don't understand.
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food | college | ucsd | san diego | asian american | mymomisafob | cyprus
68 tagged: lifeaftercyprus
Finally put up my study abroad collage: Posing with pyramids, demonstrating unseemly behavior at the Berlin Wall, stage-dancing at Bling, skinny dipping in Paphos, reuniting in New York, pole-dancing at Scorpio, sitting atop Cypriot castles, beering it up in Germany, masquerading for Carnival, and tanning on Ayia Napa shores.
I do in fact have a shrine above my bed giving homage to the best four months of my existence: Photos of Tel Aviv and Kyrenia; postcards from Amsterdam, Paris, and Prague; an Eiffel Tower keychain, Cyprus turtle candles, a handful of shell-pendants, and a hilarious playlist we created probably after one too many bottles of wine.
At about 11 p.m. last night, we spontaneously decided to go downtown to On Broadway for what is, as I unabashedly admit, my favorite activity of all time. Yupppppp. Clubbing!
To be honest, clubbing in San Diego is wholly mediocre. Cover is $20+, drinks are expensive and the crowd is very questionable. I met a guy yesterday who tried to make me guess his age for about 15 minutes. I would have made a run for it but my friends-with-no-concept-of-loyalty had left me to fend for myself.
You know what? If you’re too insecure about your age that you need me to “guess it! no… guess again!” you SHOULDN’T BE AT A CLUB. Maybe at a salsa lesson… but not a club.
This is totally hypocritical because for the next decade I fully intend on frequenting clubs in attire totally inappropriate for someone who’s pushing 30 and pretending like I’ve still “got it,” but I hold higher expectations for the rest of the human population. I mean, I’m also only physically active once a season and my idea of a social life is having a silent laptop party with my friends — clearly I’m no example on how to live.
In other lol-worthy news, here’s a serious text I received at 2:37 a.m.:
Hi! Dis is daniel! :) just wanted to check to make sure u made home safe n sound! :). …have a good nite! Bty, we met by da stairway in “on broadway” :)))
God. WHY? WHY? WHY? Do I give my number out, EVER? is it becuz i want 2 date pplz who r rellie excited! :) abt lyfe! n abt meeting me! :))) ? Why do I also give out my full name when I’m the most highly Google-indexed Teresa Wu there is, and not in a personal-branding, here is my very professional resume way?
When will I ever learn? My attempts to recreate my five-month-long Cypriot lifestyle are becoming borderline pathetic because nothing, not even New York, compares to clubbing in a country in which the focal point of 97% of citizens’ lives is inebriated dancing. Clubbing isn’t an occasional social pastime in good ol’ Cyp — it’s a serious cultural institution. Plus, the economical ease was just incomparable: 2 euro cab ride to the club, zero cover, free-flowing alcohol, and depending on how ostentatious we were that night, usually some Jack in the Box sandwiches thrown in, compliments of unsuspecting young gentlemen (who, unbeknown to them at the time, would be driving us home that night).
Sidenote: Spending too much time hanging out with my LCD screen in the wee hours of the night is finally taking its toll on my skin. I’m really starting to lose the Cyprus Happiness Glow that I acquired against all odds* from living the stress-free lifestyle and getting the recommended 12+ hours of sleep.
*Copious amounts of alcohol on a nightly basis and a total disregard for SPF in the Mediterranean sun.
PS: It is not OK to Facebook me on your iPhone on the spot. NOT OK.
