post haste.

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dateline: oZcovery

3 november 1996 11:03 p.m.

Take the process of waking up from the deepest of sleeps... ascending from somewhere heavy and dark towards light and warmth, senses clicking on one after the other, eventually being seized by a huge limb-shaking, blood-churning, wholly refreshing stretch. Take that process, and stretch it across an entire week. That's how it's been for me these past few days. Overall, I functioned fine (and even probably aced my Hawaiian midterm), but there was a little something askew. The movie of my life wound on, but the tracking was a little off. Finally, the haze has cleared. Now I'm almost offended that the world isn't slowing down one bit to give me a chance to catch up. Writing about the whole experience helped a great deal (although I admit it was a bit of a shift from my usual rambling rants). What was most rewarding, though, came later. No sooner had I finished counting the blessings that were my few and close friends, that I was reminded that I had many, many more. I just haven't met most of them. Jarret, Vicky, Jay, Kory, Christine, Michael, Natty, Wilma, Ron, Boyd and Gary (and probably more, but I'm scared of my inbox) wrote to say they were there for me. Cringe as I might at the image, it was like being ambushed by a huge group hug. Many even shared their own experiences, affording me an intimate look into the lives of the people that often partake in mine. In the grand scheme of things, my uncle's passing affects very little in my life... and far less in the lives of random web wanders. But ultimately, sharing what I went through allowed me to be touched -- really touched -- by the words and experiences of people scattered from Alaska to Italy. It's a unique experience. I'm thankful that I've had a special taste of what really makes using the internet worthwhile. We now return to our regularly scheduled diary, in media res. All week it felt like I was swimming through an alternate universe. Spending an afternoon at Pearlridge Center convinced me I was right. But I'm getting ahead of myself. After two nights of surrendering to my superior whining skills, Derek finally managed to drag me out of my apartment today. And I'm glad he did -- the sky was blue enough to lift anyone out of a funk. Sadly, we made the wrong call when faced with the choice of spending the day on the beach or at the movies. He shouldn't have mentioned Arby's. We ended up going to the mall. While we already wanted to see "Romeo and Juliet," I picked the theaters at Pearlridge because there's also an Arby's there. I really love Arby's. When my cravings are at their worst, as my hapless friends will tell you, I drag them out there for the Beef & Cheddar... movie or no movie. After our late Arby's lunch, where I inhaled their new "Double RB Deluxe" (which is so big it comes in its own bullet-proof case -- highly recommended), we had about an hour and a half to kill before the movie started. For those 90 minutes, I walked around in total awe. It was unbelievable to see how the mall worked so hard to look so, so bad. About a year ago, a heap of advertising promoted a huge renovation and a "new look." Now, Pearlridge is divided into two parts, and the idea was to have an "Updown" and a "Downtown." A little warped, I thought, but creative. Tragically, the worst came to be. Instead of a strong and marketable design theme, they ended up with a mammoth schitzophrenic retail nightmare. While "Uptown" was made to look no different from any other art deco mall in Dullsville, U.S.A., "Downtown" fared even worse -- it looked better when it was under construction. Now it's a cross between a badly done Max Headroom set and a Superman comic book from the 50s. The motif is black steel, randomly scattered neon fixtures and a color scheme ranging from dirt brown to darker brown. And since I was last there, it got even uglier. Outside, they've put in orange and green canopies that seem right out of Alice in Wonderland but worse. The monorail train that runs between the two phases -- the best part of the place for me when I was a kid -- was purposely painted to look like it was hit by New York taggers on Prozac (i.e. grafitti, but unoffensive, family-friendly grafitti). New tables and chairs were put in "Downtown," clearly inspired by prison interiors. Any open surface "Uptown," meanwhile, is now covered by sheets of copper. And you can still never remember which half has which store. Pearlridge has got to be the ugliest mall on the planet -- a train wreck would be more attractive. Derek, a staunch anti-mall man anyway, agreed. The wanna-be gangster kids that seem to infest its every corner, with their unhitched overalls and baggy pants, can have it. The movie, thankfully, was awesome. But I'll get to that in my review.