Completely tired. Limbs are drained. Yawns.
Again, nothing interesting to say.
. . . . . posted:||6:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Michael Raine Maida!!! You sexy rock god I'm gonna rape you even though I know you're married and all but hell I can still dream can't I?! Erm... A bit on the overly-excited side. Still can't believe I was actually at that concert. Damn.
And I just sounded like A with her obsession over BSB's AJ. (whom we've dubbed "Jesus in Rehab") Dammit!
I'm feeling VERY lightheaded right now. Okay, confusing lightheaded with exhilarated. Don't know exactly why, but I am. Hn?
Yeah, that's about as much as I have to say. Today at least.
(stop rambling on, dammit)
. . . . . posted:||3:29 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"I wanna be loved by you, just you and no body else but you."
"I'm crazy for try and crazy for crying. And I'm crazy for loving you."
The more I read, the more I discover that I share a lot in common with him. That's very weird since I've more or less convinced myself that no one out there is even remotely like me which is why I have to be multi-faceted. Otherwise, I won't be able to connect with people. Then again, Matt. I guess there are others like me out there. Who'd have thought...
It still pisses me off majorly that much of the things I respect are considered to be a joke by C, Mr. Talent, and the Man Whore. Earlier to-... yesterday, I brought my new Sandman graphic novel. (yes, I'm aware that there hasn't been a new Sandman issue since Death:The High Cost of Living) (okay, so it's newly bought) In the midst of reading C asks what the hell I was reading and grabs the book from me. Thing about Sandman: it's from the Vertigo line of comics. (read:adult orientated, but not necessarily pornographic) C still has the misconception that comics are for extremely young kids and geeks and are all about super heroes or "poke-chu."
So, she begins flipping through the book and gawks at about every weird thing that happens in there. Mr. T and Man Whore join in with the cajolling shortly after. C asks me "What the fuck is this shit?!" at which point I have a really hard time trying to explain the subject matter and about the main character being the incarnate of Dreams. Mentioning that it came from a line of "adult" comics would only sink me further in my own little hole... so I don't. And people wondered later why I became so fucking pissy.
(and Andy, this is for saying that it was my lil porno book ::waves the middle finger::)
Normally, I can be very laid back and allow rude comments directed to me to pass by while remaining relatively unscathed... but fuck she's been doing that all session long! And at the point where it is right now, I'm very insulted. But no, can't say a word to her since I have to keep up this whole "macho" attitude. Especially since she's a closet homophob who has a thing against canadians. One day I fear I'll end up screaming into her face. At this rate, I feel like leaving the band.
sigh... Calming down. Everyone, give a hug sometime to Sarah. She needs it right now.
. . . . . posted:||1:21 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Why the sun lightens our hair, but darkens our skin?
Why women can't put on mascara with their mouth closed?
Why don't you ever see the headline "Psychic Wins Lottery"?
Why is "abbreviated" such a long word?
Why is it that doctors call what they do "practice"?
Why is it that to stop Windows 98, you have to click on "Start"?
Why is lemon juice made with artificial flavor, and dishwashing liquid made with real lemons?
Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
Why is the time of day with the slowest traffic called rush hour?
Why isn't there mouse-flavored cat food?
When dog food is new and improved tasting, who tests it?
Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?
Why do they sterilize the needle for lethal injections?
You know that indestructible black box that is used on airplanes? Why don't they make the whole plane out of that stuff?
Why do they put Braille dots on the keypad of a drive-up ATM?
Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?
Why are they called apartments when they are all stuck together?
If con is the opposite of pro, is Congress the opposite of progress?
If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport the terminal?
Submitted by: R. Attwood
Just something to think on today.
. . . . . posted:||12:05 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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I could see you were a man of distinction,
A real big spender
Good looking, so refined
Say, wouldn't you like to know
what's going on in my mind?
So let me get right to the point
I don't pop my cork for every man I see
Hey big spender! Spend a little time with me!
Wouldn't you like to have fun, fun, fun
How's about a few laughs, laughs, laughs
I could show you a, good time
Let me show you a, good time
(repeat chorus)
Love that song. How 'bout you? No? Well, eff you then! :p
. . . . . posted:||5:07 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Now, side note on the grandma. She lived in the Philippines during a time of depression where the caste system consisted of the workers, the tenants, and the land owners. She lived in a land owner's family. So, because of her upbringing, she associates material wealth with a healthy lifestyle and successful living.
Back to the house. She asked me what his family's surname was (Mc-----) and asked if they were Irish (yes). Afterwards, she proceeds to say "Oh, they're Irish. Good good. The Irish is good, they're like Filipinos." Just found that effing funny.
On a similar note, grandma was about to cook some bok choy using chicken broth, cups of ginger, and some olives. What the heck?! And she said that she'll cook it like the chinese. I had to bring my culinary skills to show her the error of her ways and took over the cooking. The end result is a rather delicious Bok Choy in Oyster Sauce. Yes, I am good... But now grandma's dead jealous.
Mmm. "All That Jazz" is playing on Ovation right now. Dad and I are debating whether it's from Chicago or Fosse. 'Course, I know I'm right.
. . . . . posted:||3:56 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Looking at my collection of 2,000+ MP3's... it's surprising that at least 300 of em are show tunes. Or not that surprising for that matter.
So, plan for the day. Learn more Flash, possibly start reading those books, possibly finish those oil paintings that have been dry for about a month, organize my MP3 collection, and reach the anti-climatic zenith of going to church at night then falling asleep. Yes, I still go to church. Not my fault, parents make me. ::grumble grumble::
The only highpoint I can see during the whole day is watching Sex and the City and Six Feet Under later at night. Yep, boring day.
. . . . . posted:||6:24 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Happy fuckin' Hardcore baby! ^_~
. . . . . posted:||7:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||8:13 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||8:11 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Which is a good thing for yourself, but when your sis starts confusing herself by speaking her thoughts out loud and an arrogant, hubric father who takes it upon himself to explain what's what. I don't need that unnecessary information. Already at a system overload.
Mental stability is taking a beating. Dammit. Damn summer school, damn all the back-stabbing talks, damn the need to fit in, damn my suppression of expression, damn people who claim they're open to new things but really prefer to live inside their small shell, damn hypocrits.
Damn family members who just don't know when to back off, damn family members that cry for you every morning and don't even know that it's hurting you as much as they are, damn family members who constantly act like toddlers when said member is 40+ years old, damn the little things of family members that were once tolerable have now become a reason for avoidance.
Damn my needs for social activity. Damn humans for being a social species. Damn inspiration for never striking when you have nothing to do. Damn adrenaline. Damn caffiene. Damn alcohol. Damn the tar smell of the casinos from all the smokers. Damn sodium. Damn zinc. Damn sulfate. Damn magnetic materials. Damn magnetic poetry.
Damn school. Damn assignments. Damn moment to breath. Damn inactivity of the mind. Damn waiters who give entrees to the wrong table. Damn people you don't want to talk to calling you long distance from AZ. Damn said person for even thinking about it. Damn self for thinking about him thinking about it. Damn those family members who don't believe in diets or lack the faith and trust to see you through the experiement. Damn eye-hand coordination. Damn the stares and body language of people so obvious when they say one thing but their stance says another. Damn people for being overly and annoyingly suspicious or skeptical. Damn people for over-using slang they and only they know of.
Damn nail polish for chipping. Damn family members who repeatedly talk even when to themselves. Damn same said family when they sound as if they are talking to themselves but then expect you to listen in. Damn people who expect you to listen to every word they say, but don't lend an ear in return. Damn drama queens. Damn queens.
Damn bees. Damn fire ants. Damn flies and moths.
Damn moment of enlightenment. Damn feigned trauma. Damn sense of humor. Damn impatience. Damn idiocy. Damn sloth. Damn search for validation. Damn Nirvana. Damn Siddhartha. Damn Hesse. Damn Abraxas. Damn archaia. Damn nostalgia. Damn the current. Damn the media. Damn the conservatives. Damn the liberals. Damn the damned.
In the end, we all want to belong. Or be understood at that.
. . . . . posted:||8:04 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Quick little side thought: I love the fact that Sarah and Andy know. While walking to the Leisure Center, we talked about random things like why I couldn't kiss a cute guy but instead had Mr. Talent. Made me feel so much better since I could talk with those two about that stuff (even though Andy could probably care a bit less). (BTW, Topher's the first)
At about 11:00am (an hour before we were "officially" dismissed) sis, C, and I left early for Matt's house. When we got there Matt told us to be very quiet because his brother R was still asleep. Apparently we weren't suppose to be there till noon so... just went and sat down in the family room. Everyone was so quiet and scared to say anything because when we came in it was stark quiet (except for the mariachi band that was on the small radio the maid was listening to) (yes, they had a maid) so Matt had to innitiate most of the conversation.
Later, we went to his room to play some Final Fantasy games... okay, so I did most of the playing which consisted mainly of beating the games for them. A bit on the sad side that they have to rely on the walkthrus most of the time, but equally sad that I can completely whoop their asses. Eh, can't help but be as good at games as I am. (WARNING: EGO OVERLOAD)
After beating FF8 the pizza we ordered came so we sat down to eat. R came into the kitchen carrying a Del Taco bag, but still swiped a slice off of the pizza we got. Oh well, good pizza anyways. Topics of conversation ranged from "hidden talents" to Matt's secret (he likes C) and when their family is going for that scuba diving trip. After finishing the pizza, went back up to beat FF9.
Midway through playing, R's girlfriend came over and sat down on the bed with R while watching me pound the living... HP out of the last boss. At some point R goes out of the room and she follows. In the middle of the ending, when the long talking locations started, Matt tries lighting his two black candles which kept getting blown out by the ceiling fan, so he turns off the fan. Later, we were discussing flammable materials so with a shit-eating grin he grabs his pack of matches and runs into the bathroom. I followed suit and saw that he had filled a bakelite dish with hairspray and dropped a match into the thing. Well, that was very interesting. I need to get myself some non-flammable bakelite dishes to experiment with.
Later, after the ending to FF9 was viewed, we decided to go downstairs since it was just about time for us visitors to leave. We drank more, talked more, and at some point discussed the power of Oxi Clean which Matt had to use to clean up a little pee-mark his dog left on the newly cleaned carpet. I decided to tag along and see if it really worked (which it did) and discussed possible furnishing where there was ample room to... How he doesn't know yet still eludes me. At about that time I see sis making her way to the baby grand and she starts playing "My Romance" followed by "Angel Eyes" before she decided to quit a bit. I went back down after the stain quickly disappeared and looked at Matt's piano books. For playing for about three years... he was a bit behind. Oh well, he didn't like it much anyways. So, I sit down and start playing a bit from the books and came across "Greensleeves". Surprisingly C started singing too. Damn, she can sing! Again, her hidden talent, just not in the raunchy, inside-joke way the other one was. After the song, I stopped for a bit because sis heard a noise from upstairs. Sure enough, we heard "Oh yeah" and "Yes, baby?" repeatedly coming from R's room (where we saw the two "cuddling" on his bed on our way downstairs). At that point, Matt just covered his ears and shrivelled up in the corner.
About that time we had to go so we said our farewells, discussed the possible dinner on thursday, and then made way for the van.
So, I'm happy to say that all feelings towards the boy are purely platonic now. No residual infatuatory vibes from that week or two I was fixated. That's a good thing.
Soon I'll have plenty of free time on my hands when PE ends next thursday. Which means I'll have no excuse not to read that book or work on those paintings etc. etc. Urgh.
Need to read my blogs now. Ta ta.
. . . . . posted:||5:07 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Absolutely hardly any fun today. Okay, that's a lie. Today I decided to bring the cell phone so we could talk to people and stay occupied. Trouble is, at that high elevation the service I got was a bit shakey, and half of the people I called were asleep or our of town or just didn't answer.
Later we went to the junior high instead of going off on our nature hike.(read: to the parking lot) The bleachers were pulled out so the group decided to sit up on top where the electric outlet was. Many things were talked about during that time; sexual inuendo, Danielle and Nicole's pet guy, the true meaning of straight edge, and musical headaches.
Still a bit tired. Not really sensible to type about the day till I'm rested, huh? Movie later tonight. Going with friends before we kick off our Final Fantasy schtick tomorrow. You can guess what movie we're out to see.
. . . . . posted:||12:44 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||4:51 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It's a dimly lit nightclub/restaurant very similar to those of the boom years. I'm up on the stage in a nicely pressed tux and sitting infront of a grand piano from where I play jazz standards to help the romantic mood. At one point, Mr. Right-Bloke comes up to me and the rest of the four piece jazz band and asks if he can sing a song. We haphazardly agree, and he's handed a microphone.
The instant he opens his mouth to sing, everyone hears Frank Sinatra and the eyes of the room's occupants glances up to look at the new talent. I'm still playing the piano while the bassist plays in the back and at one point Mr. Right-Bloke gets up on the grand and lies stomach on the top of the sleek black instrument and he's singing to me. Since I'm the backbone of the whole musical experience, I can't do anything but smile sheepishly.
Finally, we're done after singing about 10 songs and the audience deafens us with applause. I go over to the bar to get a drink and see Mr. Right-Bloke sitting next to me with a big grin and orders drinks for us (a vodka coke and shirley temple). We get to talking and as the new band begins to play "Unforgettable" he grabs my hand and drags me to the open dance floor.
So, we start dancing not quite cheek to cheek as more and more couples trickle onto the floor. At one point, completely enthralled in the moment and a bit on the tipsy side, I give him a strong kiss. He smiles, astounded for a few seconds, then swoops down for another one.
And as we danced the stars turned ever so slowly up ahead in the cool night sky.
... Okay, so not as descriptive as I usually get with these things. But spare me; just woke up an hour ago.
. . . . . posted:||4:45 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Speaking of which... I need to go to the Pavilion shops at the Regeant again sometime. It's so much fun just walking around and enjoying the atmosphere. Especially at Cafe Ceres up by the front desk.
Need caffiene again... urgh....
. . . . . posted:||4:27 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Now to keep on the subject, nice new layout on Andy's site except he's using dhtml scrollers which are always annoying (-1) and the Brit Spears (-2). Again, don't get me wrong; Ms. Spears is respected because she's survived for so long under the spotlight. I just don't have any positive vibes to throw her way. Now, if I were the average straight male I'd plaster her image all over my walls and make pages only exclusively Brit... Glad I'm not? Good.
You've just gotta love the soundtrack of Little Voice. Enjoyable if only for Ewan McGregor's duet song, but Jane Horrocks is effing amazing. She really can sound like Judy Garland, Billie Holiday, etc. and can change between them at the drop of the hat (as heard in "Hello Dolly"). Mmm. I love talent.
. . . . . posted:||4:19 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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"Never frown, because you never know when someone's falling in love with your smile."
"One day your prince will come, mine just took a wrong turn, got lost, and is to stubborn to ask for directions."
"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened. "
... from a selection of 20+ lines, only three appeal to me.
. . . . . posted:||3:18 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||3:12 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||12:39 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
But the most annoying part of what just happened was her gestures. Whenever my grandma wants to emphasis a point, she slows down her words, her voice gets low, she speaks in heavily accented english, and paws my shoulder or arm like a cat while arching her back forward. Hard to imagine, I know, but I know the mechanics of my grandma so much I know exactly what she really means behind all the comments and praises.
Not to mention her constantly familiar bodily contact with me is a bit too close for my tastes.
. . . . . posted:||12:37 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Strange that I prefer overcast days to those that are sunny and bright. Most people want the sun to be out and brightly shining, or a sky with no cloud at all. But I feel best when there is a slight wind and clouds just enough to cover the sun for the better part of the day. Coincidently, all of my alltime favorite songs remind me of rainy days. Hrm.
C's stalker situation is leaking to her parents, and they're becoming rather paranoid (again). Can't help but pity her with her skeptical and suspicious mother and father... at least this turn of events doesn't look like it'll disrupt our plans on friday.
Brady was back at break time. Taking driver's ed after he got back from his vacation. Lucky.
Piano lessons today to get the friday one out of the way (and because our teachers have a concert to catch) so I've been practicing a lot the past hour. Surprisingly, I'm making progress. But I still feel sleepy. Parents are going out after lunch, so they're dragging us along for the ride. I'd rather just sleep for an hour or so then get up and practice some more.
Damn. Can't feel my shoulders right now.
. . . . . posted:||12:31 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The tango scene during "Roxanne" is still held as the most rivetting dance scene in cinematic history. Other dances I should make a note of are: the curtain dance in Strictly Ballroom, the rose dance in the Utena movie, the ball in Get Real, the one in Dracula, and every other scene in The Tango Lesson. People really should learn how to exploit the power of dance in movies. Or musicals for that matter.
. . . . . posted:||12:21 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Erm... yeah. Again, too tired to collect my thoughts.
. . . . . posted:||10:12 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
C calls me up saying how one of her 20+ stalkers works at VegasStuds.com. He wanted her to see him in the live chat but she was too scared. So, naturally I opted to go there for him.
Damn the boy's cute. Alias HarleyBoy was constantly touching himself: pierced nipples, three inches of anal crevice, and a rather patchy bush. But, he's straight so no chance.
Tch. Just my luck. On the other hand, dating a guy who jacks off all day for a living is a bit on the cliche side...
Okay, shutting up.
. . . . . posted:||4:08 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Spent a good hour on the phone with people finalizing plans for thursday and friday. 'Course, seeing how we have yet to consult our parents for permission... nothing is set in stone right now. Can't wait till I don't have to be so damn dependent.
Murder in Small Town X appears promising. Already they have a twist of creativity from the original creators of Real World.
Been pensive this whole day. Not so much the mother-superior of bitchyness, but my mood has been darkened.
And I've been doing it again lately. Without someone else to share my thoughts with in summerschool (Sarah, Matt, and Cristin being absent) I've become another fit-in drone. This time 'round, the subject of acceptance is punk/emo music which I already love. But then I have to be semi-against commercialism. In a way I do prefer things not to be profit-driven, but the dogma which C drives on is a bit too closed-minded a bit. To keep the general peace in the group I don't speak up so old about things... which means that C is almost generally accepted as being right. I feel like Mr. Sheltered in the current season of Real World waiting for someone to shoot down the person who's preaching against my right to believe.
... I'll have to wait till I'm rested before I go into full descussion of the situation.
. . . . . posted:||3:11 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Urgh... I've had the urge to draw men in stove top hats riding outrageous bicycles. Remember the old bicycle design at the turn of the century (when the victorian age was very much in bloom) where the front wheel was small compared to the ten feet tall wheel behind it. Nargh.
I should list all the aunomodepia I use in typing and electronic conversation. It promises to be rather interesting...
Eh, nothing better to do now so i guess I'll just sleep.
. . . . . posted:||2:09 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||1:56 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||12:09 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . posted:||11:52 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
During lunch I somehow managed to lock-lips with Mr. Talent. Purely unintentionally, I assure you. We were teasing him about his "yak-esque" laugh and how he looked like a fish sometimes when he was completely entranced in something. With the intention of pissing me off, he came up behind me and started breathing down my neck. To get back I decided to snap my chompers in his face... Well, I guess I moved my head a bit too forward and didn't time the chomp right. Our lips touch for that short instant before we both realized what happened and jumped back from eachother. So it wasn't a passionate kiss like my description led to believe, but the part that disturbs me more is the fact that that boy had the softest lips I've ever encountered. And I've had my fair share of those things. But... boyfriend material? Hell no!
Played volleyball near the end of the day with four people teams. At one point several of my teammates quit, and one from each team was talking to eachother and was completely ignorant of where the ball went till I served it past their heads. Really, it felt like a two-on-two game since the girl in the front row of the other team sucked so bad... and people have no control over where they hit the ball, huh? Oh well, enough from summerschool.
Matt's back from camp, so C and I were talking to him on the phone about his experiences at Catalina Island. 14 mile hikes, "skin" diving, communal showers, port holes for windows where people constantly smacked him while trying to sleep. And yes, the pure conservativeness of the people attending camp. ("I missed all our really raunchy conversations") Afterwards, revealed our plans for a Final Fantasy night at his place etc. etc.
I still need to call people up on the phone... not to mention email a few of the foreign exchange students I made friends with during the year. I'm so bad at keeping in touch with people.
Cyber hug goes out to the duck for his current situation back at his parent's house. I'm sure they're not all completely bad.
Yeah, again can't say anything profound for now.
. . . . . posted:||9:30 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||12:42 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||12:05 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Was up till 10:00am-ish and then clonked out on and off for several hours till I finally got up with an hour to spare before church. Ech.
After the hour's worth of sleeping, the family went to Sweet Tomato's to eat. Because of the priest's sermon, mom wanted everyone to eat at a table together (when usually sis and I go off to a booth so we can talk boys) when I whined a little bit. My mediator of a sibling explained that it was one of those days and that I didn't want to hang around the family. Only fitting that they decided to sit in the vacant booth behind us. Urgh. So, our conversation was strictly limited.
Plus, mom gave me her "look" which remained plastered to her face for a good five minutes after her dismissal. I guess my family's becoming semi-dysfunctional. We'll never reach the level of brooding in the show Six Feet Under though... hopefully.
HBO's Zone is playing the Madonna "mafia" video again. Reminiscing back, yes the banishment of that video from MTV was to gain more publicity than to make an example of where the network drew the line. Bah, media politics.
Been trying to write lyrics to a guitar riff C made and sent. It's rather hard writing a song music first... lyrics aren't that flexible through that route.
Yeah, can't gather my thoughts again. Sorry. Another uninteresting post (#536).
. . . . . posted:||12:00 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . posted:||8:21 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I'm planning a big "reunion" of all the missing members in my summer school group on friday. So, if you're reading this and are part of the aforementioned party, be sure to come by! Otherwise, bugger off stalker. :p
. . . . . posted:||6:53 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Yeah, short, random rant. And yes, style is content when accomplished artfully.
. . . . . posted:||6:41 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Digital/flashmedia art is effing beautiful. Have you seen the extensive animations on the official OLP site? My effing gawd that things gorgeous! Well... I guess I'll stick to just experimenting with digital short movies. Interativity isn't possible with my current knowledge.
Grandma's acting like she doesn't care that the family was out till 10:00pm and didn't bother to tell her that we wouldn't be eating dinner. But in turn she should have informed us that she was still in the house instead of visiting our relatives who're visiting from the motherland. ::sigh:: Lack of communication.
Speaking of which, I was watching the reruns of Xena this morning (very early in the morning) and my dad at one point came downstairs to check email before he went off to play golf. In the middle of the show, he kept asking me questions as to what's going on. Such as "Who is she?" ("Gabrielle, pop") "Why are they crying?" ("Next time watch the screen, pop") and the most annoying one "Whadshydo that for?" ("Because she's mad, pop") (note: the first word is his condensation of "what did she do" which ended up sounding like wadshoo) so I could hardly enjoy the show as I normally do. Urgh.
Right now I feel unforgiving of those with accents and/or bad grammar. It's a world of lazy asses we live in. Show them you actually care about language.
. . . . . posted:||6:32 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . posted:||11:54 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Speaking of art, still researching stories about people (specifically artists) affected by AIDS; victims, and the victim's lover, family, friends, etc. Right now there's this documentary on Discovery Health that I'm recording for future reference. I'm thinking of taking the FightForYourRights approach and just have someone read a list of the names of several hundred people who died of AIDS, tape it, and play it next to my piece (which I have yet to get an idea for).
I don't see why people are so insistant of artists to create art outside of their realm of relation. How can you? Art without the experience of it is... empty. Most art like so is a collection, an anthology of cliches regarding the scenario. Which is what I say to those people who insist I make art that fits their needs and not mine.
And you wonder why I got out of the habit of constant creative-output?
. . . . . posted:||11:47 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Went to a dinner/house party at C's this afternoon. Strangely enough, the puerto rican household was filled with three other families who were achingly filipino.
Sis and I retreated into C's room where we practiced our songs. Forgot to get the acoustic with the plug in it so I had to rig a mic to the strings to let it sound... Not like you could hear me when I did bring the other acoustic.
C's mom kept teasing me about saying how she overheard me calling her voice "scary" on the phone about a week ago. But, the whole matter was smoothed over when I apologized and she said that she only took it in stride.
Went on the computer later to show people the jesus dance page (which, if you're crazy enough to go, is here) and Sean IM'd me. After a very long time of non-communication. 'Twas fun the short conversation we had; discussing the qualities of working at Target (him arguing for, I against).
Eventually, after approximately 6 hours spent at their place, my family went home. Of course, we had to spent 30 minutes of the aforementioned 6 hours saying goodbye. I swear, it's a filipino thing; we're always the last to leave a party, and when we do we have a conversation to say goodbye.
Later, during the drive home my dad was telling us some bits and pieces about their conversations with C's parents. They were telling us how C had a really good singing voice, but she never wants people to listen to her sing... Personally, if I had the power of voice I would want everyone to listen to me, but that's my histronic side speaking. And I would be singing more, but the trials of puberty have ruined my range and control so I can't sing like the castrati like I used to.
A moment like that makes you wonder how much you really know about your friends. I know that all of my friends have some sort of talent (otherwise I wouldn't want to be around them) but most have hidden talents that I hadn't realized until I've known them better. To be completely honest, I didn't become good friends with C till we had summerschool together (yes, summerschool can forge strong bonds, huh sarah). Just goes to show that you really don't know people except for the things that you hear about them.
Mmm... Michael Raine Maida you are an effing sex-rock god! (listening to my OLP songs)
. . . . . posted:||11:28 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Been trying to call people for the past week but they either never pick up, or I'm skirted off to some function by mi familia so that I can't get their number. Oh yeah, and I've been sleeping during normal waking hours.
Saw more QAF, but this time the original one. Personally... I like the actors better in the british one, but story wise both are equally up to par. ::shrugs::
. . . . . posted:||4:42 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hrm... could it be possible that little Chucky's having a relapse of the M kind? Very likely.
Ugh... need to put those thoughts aside.
For the past two hours I've been scouring my cd collection (and that of my sister's) for tracks with semi-psychotic speaking parts. (or in the case of the OLP cd "Spiritual Machines", tracks themselves) While reading A Brave New World (yes, I'm finally reading it... and it's rather interesting too) I had an idea for a short art film concerning the "manchine" project back during the middle of the school year. Still not completely sure about what images will be shown, or in what sequence, but I do know that there will be synthesized speech in the background.
Yeah, so I'm in a weird mood today. Too weird to be talking much, anyways. So I'll shut up.
(by the way, Andy I'm still waiting for that new layout)
. . . . . posted:||2:09 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . posted:||3:53 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||3:43 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Why do people insist on buying those screens that reduce the monitor's glare when all you have to do is tone down the contrast and brightness?
. . . . . posted:||12:28 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Anyway, the book. To be honest, I know next to nothing about the 50's era besides that used in all the satire of these days (Grease comes to mind). So, a world where fathers fished on boats but are fearful of swimming, moms hold parties to climb the social ladder, boys go off to camp or prep school to learn about the world, and the nuclear family reigned supreme. All that is very foreign to me. Which is why I'm appreciative of the vivid descriptions given by the author to set the stage perfectly for the characters to interact. The main character and narrator describes life as a "sissy" boy who never lived up to the social expectations but sufficed at suiting his father (divorced to his mother). The narration itself resembles true nostalgia trips; it's as if the narrator opened a box full of old items and drew the memories from each. The story jumps constantly from different ages in the boy's life. Beginning with a friend's family visit to his father's house where their eldest gladly experimented with the host's son, to tales of his mother and the hotel room they lived in when he was 7. A bit hard to follow at first, but one gets used to it.
Hell, I still need to finish those last 50+ pages of the book. But first, needed to write something about it.
And I'm having lots of fun reading the very first entries of In The Closet Boy's blog.
. . . . . posted:||12:27 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Assertion-n. statement or declaration
Cogent-adj. convincing;reasonable
Clarity-adj. clearness
Coherent-adj. logically connected
Cohesive-adj. condition of sticking together
Didactic-adj. intended to instruct
(note: not 100% sure of the word's accuracy; directly copied from the email)
. . . . . posted:||11:50 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Fell asleep immediately as soon as I sat down on the couch. (yes, I do a lot of sleeping in the family room cushionings) Didn't notice that my grandma's brother and family were here for lunch. Hrm. Later, called C where our band's perspective drummer was suppose to call so we could listen to him play... but again I fell asleep before he did (but sis was on the phone too so I didn't end up looking like a total idiot). So, I finally wake up and here I am. Yes, boring day I know I know.
Speaking of the band, I'm quickly feeling the need to quit. Most of the members want to play a lot of punk music; I can stand that, but only so much. Afterwards, I become very annoyed by the sheer simplicity of the songs. I'd rather be writing symphonies or musicals.
How many times does HBO plan to play Gladiator this whole month?
. . . . . posted:||6:37 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I really should get some sleep in before I have to get ready for school. But, I'm busy organizing (and eventually burning) a cd with tracks from different FF games.
Oh yeah, got a small post card from Matt today. Handwritings semi-legible -- the description's a bit on the generous side -- but apparently he's having loads of fun at camp. Lucky bastard.
Hrm. Seems like several new layouts favore the grey + color scheme. But will I ever do that?... eventually. No time in the near future though.
. . . . . posted:||5:03 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh yes, now I know why that lead paleologist (is that how you spell it?) guy never got married. One name: Billy. Becomes oh so apparent at the end when they're being rescued off the island.
However, people tend to ruin my movie experiences. There's this old FOB woman sitting next to me who would exclaim ever so loudly at points in the movie with things that are blatanly obvious (ex. when they find the raptor's nest, she says rather loudly: "Oh! So many eggs! They gonna die!") (ex.2 when they realize that the raptor is calling for help, the old woman screams out: "Aye! They're calling for help?!") Goddammit people just shut up so I can at least try to enjoy what little good qualities are in this movie!
Bought STP's "Shangri La Dee Da" at Sam's Club (along with 200 CD-R's and some other stuff) and am now happily listening to it. Although I miss the heavier sound of their last album, this one's good as well.
. . . . . posted:||12:15 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Nothing much to do again today... but things turned interesting during our time in the gym. The "backpack boy" (as C dubbed him) was there practicing basketball with his teamates. So, in the midst of the others' gawking stares I managed to scribble something for this entry on a piece of paper:
Yeah, so he's gorgeous. He exhudes that potent mixture of pheromones and Anchor Blue cologne. Everyone in the room is drawn to him the moment he appears. Whether he knows of it or not, each gesture, each movement is sensual, seductive. In a word, the stuff that romance novels are written for. Blode hair bleached with the dark roots seeping through. His head occasionally cocks to the side.
Yes, standing in thecenter of the court with his hands on his hips; even when he's at his most arrogant, the hardness of that slim build with the intoxication of the attitude he radiates with, the attention in the room he commands as he jumps, shoots, and manipulates the ball like it was a brush and he the painter.
The girls around me are either taking small stares and chiding away, or just blatanly focus their gaze on him the entire time. And I can't help but steal a few glances myself.
. . . . . posted:||12:37 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||6:11 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(have to apologize for the one-liners. too much garlic in my coffee)
(how the hell did garlic get in my coffee?!)
....(I'm hyper in the morning. not good)
. . . . . posted:||6:08 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||6:05 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Over the course of one night (approx. 5 hours) I've written over twenty poems. Mostly shitty, but right now I think they're good. But then again, that's for now.
Redid my room so now it looks like a semi-surreal landscape/painting. Floppy disks are hung with wires from the ceiling and make quite the nice windchimes for whenever the a/c kicks in.
Normally, on a normal day during the school year I'm currently struggling to get ready. But, this is summerschool I'm attending so I can put off getting ready till 6:30. whoo.
Had an interesting idea. Using the power of the blog, it could be possible to create an RPG game using fictional people. For instance, there're five people with blogs. One person writes about their day, and the other people write about theirs. Typical blog, right? When their lives constantly cross paths, they'd blog about the moment/event/etc. differently than the other. It's an intriguing idea, but I don't know how many people I can get to do it. The first fictional blogging rpg... ^_^
. . . . . posted:||6:00 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Looks wise (I know I'm being superficial here but bare with me) Ryan has the perfect face. ::sniff:: damn bastard.
While we're on the subject, I called Bill on the phone out of sheer bordem and we started singing Les Miserables songs (since both of us are definetly going to the showing of it in Vegas come September). At one point we both put on the cd and sang the entire goddamn musical. Why? Because we're bored.
Oh, just to clear things up, Bill's a chick. The only guy I'd actually stay on the phone with for hours on end is Matt since I can relate more so to him. It'd be nice to find a guy who likes showtunes, art, etc. who's named... well, for the moment the name of preference is Raine (after the lead singer for OLP) but that's set to change at anytime.
Mmm... I love making my grandma jealous by cooking some kick-ass Penni a la Pesto to her shit-tasting tomato-and-spagetti-soup. ^_^
Yeah, I'm evil.
And another gratuitous one liner for your pleasure and enjoyment.
. . . . . posted:||6:03 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Listened to Utada Hikaru's "First Love" again after about four months of not doing so. That's it. From now on whenever I need to calm down I'm listening to her voice. Worked like a charm today during PE when I listened (very hard since the boom box was so damn loud) to the piano version. Mmm mm.
Why Jpop again? Saw Music Video Heaven last night; the first time since a month of neglecting to. Nothing like Kpop and music videos that actually look different than the stuff all the wannabe-Hype-Williams-directors o'er here. One song in particular ("Doll") had an amazing concept. The show ended with a song and neonlights-industrial video by NRG. Yes, there's a group called NRG. And not the one that won Say What Karaoke when they went here to Vegas.
Speaking of MTV... I'm actually liking most of the songs by Eve and Da Brat. Seems that the only rap/hip-hop artists I can stand nowadays are female. Reminds me of the mid 90's years where I was obsessed with just about every artist on the Lilith Fair tour... how my parents haven't figured me out by now I'll never know. Well, in all actuality they probably did they're just not saying anything. Hn.
::screams:: Utada-sama! Aishiteru!
. . . . . posted:||5:55 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Break was uneventful for the most part. I've partaken of the Sarah T. diet of water for breakfast, lunch, and a sensible dinner. So it was a bit stupid to bring one dollar for drinks. Gave it to Christy because she wanted to by some Starburst... but ended up with a pack of Certs that took the whole of the dollar. That was pretty funny, in a boring and nothing-better-to-do-but-find-amusing sense.
Walked over to the junior high since they're still working on the gym in the regular high school. Again, put on the boom box blasting punk bands. Some people were a bit on the scared side though: 1) the gym's so much smaller and therefore has a higher occurence of echoing 2) we took a group of people's spot 3) the same people might wanna beat us up if we play "pop punk"... okay, so it was mainly C who was scared. I, on the other hand, knew half of the people in the group and they aren't as close minded about the punk music out there as some people I know... but I won't mention names.
Came home, slept for 4 hours, then woke up with the cushions of the couch strewn all along the floor, my body being completely numb, and saying the line "What the hell are novelty bagels?!" Yeah, I need more sleep.
. . . . . posted:||5:32 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Andy has (almost) all the details for today's mundane experience in summer P.E. Saw Jessica from LVA Art class with her group. One of the guys... okay, several of the guys we wanted to come over and sit with us. But alas, they were in their own group already. Sigh.
Ellen DeGeneres: The Beginning. Funny-ass show. Emphasis on the ass, by the way. (watch the show to get the joke)
In-The-Closet-Boy just posted a really amazing pic of Gray from the FF movie. ::drool::
Ralph's past two posts (july 14 and 15) share many of my thoughts and opinions. Specifically my need for aesthetics, beauty, luxurious settings (even though they're in my head), and the incessant bordem of summertime.
The things happening to Tim at psionic.nu are exactly why I'm not so trusting of people anymore.
And now, a song from Sarah Brightman's cd:
"And I can hear you whispering in the silence of my room.
My heart still surrenders like the sun to the moon.
Waves crashing on distant shores.
They're calling our name forever more...
Sis got back from her first voice lesson... and got murdered. Ha. Then again, the vocal teacher in the place where we go for lessons is pretty tough. Not surprised one bit.
. . . . . posted:||8:20 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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During the whole Venetian outing, I learned something about my grandma from my dad. Only till recently has it begun to dawn on my mind. Now I know why she's completely materialistic. I understand her mindset now... and I doubt the judgement call my dad made in presenting that point. Now I have the resources to do severe damage to my grandmother's mental state. And at this point I feel like using my full arsenal on her mind.
Tonight was a distant cousin's birthday party. Thing is, grandma said it was a graduation party ("In the middle of summer?") so my family and three other family units gave her congratulations and graduation cards. Ha. Party was boring as hell; sat on the couch and ate most of the time while watching Hot Shots: Part Deux through the thick arrangement of carnations blocking my view. Most of the party's guests were half family and half her friends. The family side was the usual mixture of aunts, uncles, cousins, all who don't really have blood ties to me but they're close enough. Friends... well, let's just say that I felt like I was in a rap video. All the girls were more or less tight-chested and gifted in the butt-padding area complete with short-as-hell booty... erm, shorts. The guys were the girls' ghetto-fab, pimp daddy boyfriends who grabbed their crotches like they were picking their noses.
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the ghetto-fab filipinos. Just that... there're way too many of them. There are only a handful of filipinos who are into the music I enjoy most, let alone know what the hell Protoculture is. So, I can't relate much to the majority of the filipinos my age in Vegas. Which sucks, since meeting people is so much fun.
. . . . . posted:||11:51 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
During the whole Venetian outing, I learned something about my grandma from my dad. Only till recently has it begun to dawn on my mind. Now I know why she's completely materialistic. I understand her mindset now... and I doubt the judgement call my dad made in presenting that point. Now I have the resources to do severe damage to my grandmother's mental state. And at this point I feel like using my full arsenal on her mind.
Tonight was a distant cousin's birthday party. Thing is, grandma said it was a graduation party ("In the middle of summer?") so my family and three other family units gave her congratulations and graduation cards. Ha. Party was boring as hell; sat on the couch and ate most of the time while watching Hot Shots: Part Deux through the thick arrangement of carnations blocking my view. Most of the party's guests were half family and half her friends. The family side was the usual mixture of aunts, uncles, cousins, all who don't really have blood ties to me but they're close enough. Friends... well, let's just say that I felt like I was in a rap video. All the girls were more or less tight-chested and gifted in the butt-padding area complete with short-as-hell booty... erm, shorts. The guys were the girls' ghetto-fab, pimp daddy boyfriends who grabbed their crotches like they were picking their noses.
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the ghetto-fab filipinos. Just that... there're way too many of them. There are only a handful of filipinos who are into the music I enjoy most, let alone know what the hell Protoculture is. So, I can't relate much to the majority of the filipinos my age in Vegas. Which sucks, since meeting people is so much fun.
. . . . . posted:||11:51 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hmm... I'm guessing I'll need an Utena motorcycle to get there... or possibly a(n) [insert guy's name here] motorcycle. Yeah, not making much sense.
. . . . . posted:||12:14 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Abase: v. lower, humiliate, defeated
Abash: v. embarassed
Abate: v. subside; decrease
Abbreviate: v. shorten
Yeah, nothing better to do.
. . . . . posted:||11:52 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Today... man. Went to Meadows Mall at about 2:00 to get my hair done. Now I'm sporting a crisp, new, shorter version of my hair before. I like. The hair dresser was new to the place, but damn she's better than my usual stylist.
Later, sis and I went into Hot Topic to buy stuff (she got buttons) and I bought two things: a mood ring (which fits snuggly on my pinky) and a t-shirt that reads: "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is." ^_^ There was another shirt that said: "Let's get one thing straight, I'm not." but didn't feel like getting that one in particular. Yes, I know I'm turning into a queen.
Later, family went to the Venetian. I traversed the Cannal Shops; a mall with extremely high-end shops with a canal running along the center complete with gondalas ferrying people and gondaliers singing opera. The outside of the shops are a facade of Venetian architecture with a faux cloud-spotted "sky" in the ceiling. And yes, the floors are tiled in cobblestone.
I went into this mask shoppe searching for one which I would wear during the masquerade ball at school come this fall, but the masks were of extreme high calibre. The quality one would wear to an actual masque (or one of those things in Eyes Wide Shut) and ever so pricey at $200+. There was a table with generic masks, but they were a bit grimmy so I chose not to buy.
Later, sis and I broke from our parents to walk around a bit more. We walked the entire length of the mall in search of interesting shops (or ones that we didn't feel threatened to enter) and cute men. Yes, there were those. But the performers (specifically the living statues and street clowns) were far more amusing.
We eventually joined the parents at St. Mark's Square just in time to listen to a group of six singers perform. They did four songs: Pie Jesu, two Arias from an opera I couldn't recognize, and a madrigal. Very well done, except the men sung louder than the women and the esclamazios sung were shrill and slaughtered my ears.
Yes, ever since I began reading Anne Rice's Cry to Heaven I've been infatuated with the italian renaissance. Which, when compared to the english renaissance, is completely understandable. I'll be putting a suggestion for the masque at school to be like carnival. And thus my search for an elegant italian mask. Oh and yes, I listen to my cd of italian madrigals whenever I read my book.
::hugs go out to the people who need em, you know who you are::
. . . . . posted:||11:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Just a marker for future counts.
. . . . . posted:||2:06 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||1:21 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
<3 SARAH
Shit. I didn't know these people would be so supportive. Thanks guys ^_^
. . . . . posted:||12:24 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Full of satire-fun, where fashion rules give way to the truth of the case. Oh yeah, beware the level of sisterhood in the film.
Saw Christin with her friend at the movies. All four of us (those two, myself, and sis) sat in the back row and talked about many things concerning what Matt and she did in theaters in the past... and no, nothing freaky.
Ran into Nicole and Danielle as well. They had just come out of the movie (same one) and we talked across the rope that separated the inside of the theater with the casino.
... Now sis is pressuring me to finish typing on my "blob" thingy. Because of that I'm taking extra measures (read:one finger typing) to prolong this entry's completion. Oh wait, that's it.
. . . . . posted:||12:11 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Yes, it still doesn't feel like I was actually at that concert.
. . . . . posted:||2:52 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
::lights several red lanterns, fire crackers, breaks out the best sake, etc. etc.::
. . . . . posted:||2:48 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Okay, must get the soundtrack for Little Voice. Have you heard Mr. McGregor's voice in "Just in Love"? Goddamn sex god, that's who he is!
. . . . . posted:||2:45 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
-Andy
^_^ I love it when I get support from people. Thanks back, Andy.
. . . . . posted:||3:23 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The idea of a community of people all searching for the solution to the puzzle not for a prize, but for the sake of solving the game. In effect, a linking of the human population's mind. The prophecies of Orson Wells is coming true!... oh wait, ne'er mind I'm thinking of the creators of Lain.
Or maybe this is all a sick and twisted real-life version of the movie The Game (which is by far one of my favorite movies)... and if it is hell I wanna join.
Or, it could be an ingenius device used by the government to solve an actual crime?
Too bad there are no PK's in this game. (player killers than can 'off' a player if they're stronger) That would make the game a bit more like cat and mouse as opposed to just many people solving a mystery. I'd love to be a PK.
OLP seems so ... surreal. It's like I wasn't ever there... but I was. I have the tickets and the shirt to prove it.
. . . . . posted:||1:17 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I don't care. Life's a big party anyways.
. . . . . posted:||12:57 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
First band: Shades Apart. These guys are amazingly talented and completely solid musicians. The lead guitarist performed feats of aerobics with his fingers on the strings while managing to sing with a captivating voice. The bassist was equally astonishingly talented; playing a loud, driving bassline that drowned out the lead guitar often during the songs played. The drummer kept time perfectly and imbelished the song further with the use of his symbols. Not to mention that he was hot... Oh, I didn't? Well he was. Beginning of the set he had a red top (which looks suspiciously like one I bought a week ago) over a wife beater. Third song starts and the top comes off. Fifth song and the wife beater goes bye bye, exposing his impressive build. Ahem.
Only knew one of their songs ("Valentine") but I'm completely feeling their sound now. Oh yeah.
Headliner: Our Lady Peace. Gee, did I really like em much? Hell yeah! There was a screen behind the drum set that played the freaky visuals from their video for "In Repair" repeatedly while at points excerpts from the book "Spiritual Machines" were read. (The newest cd by OLP, also by the name "Spiritual Machines," was nurtured and inspired by the message of that book.)
Mike, lead guitar, was amazing. Guitar solos were played beautifully and he sustained single notes with one strum for the length of a bible. He also had enough skill at the guitar to cut loose and have fun a bit; playing while spinning, jumping, can-caning (at one point), and constantly played the crowd at his feet to gain more and more screams of adoration.
However, the true magnet of the band was leead singer and seducter Raine Maida. Beforehand, I knew that Raine got into his music a lot from seeing all the concert footage and photos... But they were nothing compared to seeing him live. Often he was leaning on the mic stand singing with abandon and resting his head as the guitar solos kicked in. At points he even forgot that there was a crowd of fanatics infront of him and he's start singing to the ground, the amps, the monitors, drumsets, etc. and then turn around to see exactly how crowded the place was. My god he was... well, a god. Or rather a man possessed by the god which is music. Damn.
Another reason for liking OLP is their down-to-earth attitude. Although they've already made it very big (in Canada, not so much in the US) they never forgot to thank the fans. And they did that so many times this night. After the first two songs, the band took a moment to replace guitars and Raine said something to the effect of "I'm surprised there're so many people here. It's been forever since we've been to Las Vegas." So many times during a song, Raine would stop singing and the crowd filled in the silence at his microphone. At the very end of their set, everyone started chanting "Peace" which made them come out again for an encore song. He started playing "Starseed" when, not three words into the song, he stopped and asked the crowd if they wanted to sing. 'Course, everyone screamed yes so he turned the mic around to face the crowd and played guitar while the voices of hundreds sang the song. At the end Raine said: "This is why we make music. And why we have the best fucking fans ever!" More screams.
Side Report: The Crowd. This has to have been one of the nicest concerts I've been too. (keep in mind I've only been to punk/hard rock concerts) Until the last half of OLP I had almost two or three inches of breathing room. No one was pushing, no one was moshing... but no one was head banging or jumping to the music either. And there wasn't anyone to lean on if your feet got tired so I stood till I couldn't feel the ground anymore. Even then I stayed up. There were so many hot guys at this particular concert. (none who took off their shirts though, which sucked) One boy in particular I watched throughout the concert. He stood at the very front (I was about second row) and wore a cap with a white oxford over a grey shirt. And completely charming. During the break between sets sis and I were talking about the boy almost directly behind his back and declared our ways to attract his attention. She's simply kiss his ear while I'd ask to feel his ass and grab hard when he says yes... or when he says no too. He left midway through OLP though so that sucked.
There was a group of six or so enthusiastic OLP fans behind sis and I. They seemed to be a really cool group; four guys and two girls. Before the whole concert started two of the guys samba'd to the music they played. Very very cute.
During OLP A large group of Canadians made their way to the center of the room and were constantly waving a Canadian flag. They were obviously drunk... but it was good that they were. Everyone in that group of 30 or so were completely into the music; jumping, screaming, singing along, head banging, etc. They even pushed people closer so that the two inches of breathing room became about negative one... exactly how concerts should be like. The energy from that group spread to everyone, and soon enough people were acting exactly like them.
Well, except for the bitch I stood next to who would rather not be there. Her boyfriend seemed to have loads of fun though.
After the curtains closed, sis and I made our way to the merchandise table where, sure enough, they were selling t-shirts. Got an OLP one for $25 that I'll probably wear... once. Wanted to get a few cd's but didn't have enough money.
Afterwards, went out to meet parents in the parking garage, stopped by Starbucks for a drink, and then came home. And thus here I am now, documenting the entire experience because I didn't bring a camera. Then again, I don't need pictures to remember that event.
... Actually, this was the first concert I came out not feeling pissed. Very refreshing mood.
. . . . . posted:||12:52 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Whoo. Stalker attributes sinking in!... no not really.
Re-watching all of my J-Pop music videos. My god, I've been missing out severely. J-Pop infatuation was one of the larger parts of my life during school that, when in an environment that turns a blind eye and a "what?" to any foreign music, I've neglected. But, I've now rediscovered my determination and creative drive. Once again I'll strive for sensuality and seduction in my art, as opposed to just relieving my sexual/relationship frustrations out on paper.
Yes, for this moment life is good.
. . . . . posted:||3:50 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In just five hours I'll be seeing Our Lady Peace onstage and Raine at the mic! ^_^
MuchMusic's playing a bunch of old music videos. It's been a while since I've seen Christina Aguilera's first video... or "Come on Over"... Personally, I love Ms. Aguilera. Her pop appeal is a bit... well, discontenting. But, unlike so many other pop artists, she has and overwhelming amount of talent... The fashion sense is a tad bit on the scary side...
Currently TLC's "What About Your Friends" is playing. Can anyone remember the era when almost all rapand hip hop was about brotherly love? Those were great times. Now, MTV's constantly playing those booty videos constantly... Extremely degrading and the amount of sexual frustration being exhuded is disturbing.
Which is why I like MM or VH1 as a nice alternative.
Tried reading my book today but fell asleep withing five pages of starting. Really, they should let us read books we find interesting...
. . . . . posted:||3:04 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
... damn, this thing is turning out to be my gay diary...
. . . . . posted:||11:38 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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FF: Spirits Within was rather good... but you have to be a fan of the series to appreciate it more. Directing job was a bit unusual at times (and the character movements were sometimes unnatural but that's to be expected) but given that he doesn't normally cater to America's preference of large explosions backdropped by War & Peace. Story's a bit on the predictable side, but hell it's a summer action movie so does that really matter?
There were a few trite moments (ex. use of "pyrotechnics" and camera angles just to show off when light flares are released) which were accented further by the inconsistant quality of voice acting (ex. all the jokes)... but not bad overall. A few things to mention though: Aki's hair doesn't float while in outerspace. It's as if they've developed an invisible hair net that keeps the strands in place at all times... which is weird when later she demonstrates her Pantene-infused volume-ized hair as it constantly covers half her face. Cid was in the movie (and yes, again he was an old man) but they spelled his name S-I-D. Eh, minor detail.
No moogles or chocobos (which could've been added as a stuffed animal or tattoo/sticker just for the hardcore fans), and Biggs/Wedge weren't present.
Tomorrow. Our Lady Peace concert. I'm actually going. I'm actually going to see Raine. Someone hold me! :D
. . . . . posted:||10:23 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Currently listening to Pretty Boys. Figures, I know... shu'p! :P
Hahaha.... made Penni a la Pesto last night. Good stuff... except I added half a cup of butter when I really shouldn't have... and the pine nuts I had were bad. But hell, the garlic got rid of that taste so all's well in my own little culinary world.
Haven't you noticed I just became oh so hyper?
. . . . . posted:||1:43 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cool bed sheets soft like crushed velvet give some relief. The sensations of the blankets sliding across your skin in the near darkness of a room infused with warm peach-flavored light. But at some point the sheets get warmed up and they're not cool and soothing anymore. At some point you grow tired of the land of cloud puffs you've trapped yourself in. At some point you think "what the hell am I doing?" and you get up.
That's when your feet touch the semi-firm carpet and you discover that all your joints are barely working right; bone jutting into bone. So, you back down to sleep again.
Lighting sticks of incense, you can sleep under a blanket of opium-scented air. Watching the smoke rise white behind the stacks of books, then to green-brown once in front of the white washed walls.
Tired of the quiet space, you put on a cd. Then take it out. Put another in. Take it out. Constantly searching for the perfect sequence of songs to match your mood. Then you give up, and let one cd run it's course. You immediately fall in love. Take the cd out, put in one you already skimmed through, and fall in love with that cd all over again. Soon, you forget about the book you're suppose to read, the painting you need to work on, the concert you should be hyped up about because they're coming tomorrow.
Then you have nothing better to do than sleep the day away...
Oh wait. I have to go watch Spirits Within today. Yay.
. . . . . posted:||1:25 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Hrm. Nothing much to talk about. Just a general day of drifting 'round. Like any day during a summer vacation should be spent. At least I don't suffer from adrenaline-withdrawl anymore.
. . . . . posted:||7:10 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Currently adding several new poems over to Weakhand. Had entirely too much time to waste during Driver's Ed, so I did nothing but write most of the time and half-heartedly listened to the information.
Completely and utterly bored! Need sleep... but I need to finish my books too! Not to mention practice piano, guitar, bass guitar, singing, and working on those paintings.
Suffering from the adrenaline rush withdrawl I was building myself up for since Sunday. Urgh. Need excitement and glamour. And I'm bored sitting in front of the computer.
. . . . . posted:||9:09 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Cry to Heaven is increasingly becoming one of my favorite Anne Rice books (second only to Violin). I've only just begun to read Part II and already I'm captivated. I guess one of the reasons why I love Mrs. Rice so much is the exact reason why so many people hate her: her descriptions and attention to detail are so intricate they're almost religious. But, with a good amount of patience, time, and an over-active imagination one can be easily caught up in this net of higher vocabulary. Then again, other friends of mine just hate her because she's more or less monopolized the vampire genre for the general public.
Don't get me wrong, I don't exclusively gravitate towards authors who write like her. All my favorites are exactly that for many different reasons. In Poppy Z. Brite I love her seductive and inviting descriptions of the purely macabre (specifically the scenes of necrophillia and cannibalism in Exquisite Corpse) and also her constant us of homosexual characters which helps me to relate all the more to the story being told. (Yep, like Liz another gay man trapped in a woman's body.)
Herman Hesse's work is favored for it's constant themes of self actualization and discovery. The messages his books deliver are made equally potent in that my current age and position are of the self-searching teen before one makes their transition into the adult world of jaded steel.
Ray Bradbury is admired for the issues he always addresses in his books which exudes social commentary that, in the case of censorship in F451, are as important and current as when the book was first written.
Adam Lee for his ability to create worlds. In the Dark Shores trilogy of novels, he creates a world just above ours where magic exists in the form of Charm which, through his wording, has infused the land with it's own mythology and folklore separate from almost everyother culture existing.
Dante for the great masterpiece of The Inferno. Poetry put to story in a grand epic to the farthest reaches of hell and the afterlife.
So many authors to mention, so little time. Well, little patience anyways. That and lack of memory trying to remember all of them.
. . . . . posted:||4:56 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Perusing through their collection of queer short film... and loving almost all the stories I see. ::insert goofy smile::
. . . . . posted:||12:29 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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So, I try to strike a compromise with grandma; make coverings for the sofas under the tapestry with the cloth and use the remainder as a drapery for the tapestry itself (the tapestry is hanging on the wall). But alas, she's being stubborn and won't consider my advice. Now she's dead set in making those draperies since she thinks that it'll look beautiful if she did... Well, I tried. Mom will definetly not be happy with the changes grandma wants to make though...
Hrm. I could be an interior designer and an architect if I wanted to.
Currently working out the kinks before I publish my photography website. Along with the coming of the photo-page is a new layout design for this page as well. So busy... and I have to update SoftFeathers as well...
. . . . . posted:||7:04 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Paranoid: Moderate
Schizoid: Low
Schizotypal: High
Antisocial: High
Borderline: Moderate
Histrionic: Very High
Narcissistic: High
Avoidant: Low
Dependent: High
Obsessive-Compulsive: Low
Hrm. Can't really agree with the Histrionic or Narcissistic. Antisocial (as in the no-conscience remarks) I have to agree with, along with my high Dependency and Schizotypal.
Speaking of which... it's been almost 5 years since I last saw a shrink (last time being in 4th grade) and it'd be fun to go to one again. Just to freak em out. ^_^
. . . . . posted:||11:51 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Your view on yourself
Other people find you very interesting, but you are really hiding your true self. Your friends love you because you are a good listener; they'll probably still love you if you learn to be yourself with them.
Somewhat true, somewhat not. I am a good listener (most of the time) but I don't necessarily hide my true self. People just associate my "teddy-bear-cute-but-not-Ewan-McGregor-cute" looks with being kind, gentle and funny. I am that most of the time, but if you've read this blog for long... yeah.
The type of girl/boyfriend you are looking for.
You are a true romantic. When you are in love, you will do anything and everything to keep your love true.
Yes! Completely true!
Your readiness to commit to a relationship.
You are ready to commit as soon as you meet the right person. And you believe you will pretty much know as soon as you might that person.
Again, completely true!
The seriousness of your love.
You are very serious about relationships and aren't interested in wasting time with people you don't really like. If you meet the right person, you will fall deeply and beautifully in love.
Deeply, yes. Beautifully, not necessarily. Most times it's obsessively. But yeah, I waste no time on flings
Your views on education
Education is very important in life. You want to study hard and learn as much as you can.
Knowledge is power! Power corrupts! Study hard and become evil! But yeah, I want to know (almost) everything
The right job for you.
You're a practical person and will choose a secure job with a steady income. Knowing what you like to do is important; find a regular job doing just that and you'll be set for life.
I'm not THAT practical. I would like a secure job so I can cover my home in exquisite decor... but art is my first priority. Second only to my self.
How do you view success?
You are confident that you will be successful in your chosen career and nothing will stop you from trying.
That's my inflated-ego talking.
What are you most afraid of?
You are afraid of having no one to rely on in times of trouble. You don't ever want to be unable to take care of yourself. Independence is important to you.
But in the end, isn't everyone afraid of that?
Who is your true self?
You like privacy very much because you enjoy spending time with your own thoughts. You like to disappear when you cannot find solutions to your own problems, but you would feel better if you learned to share your thoughts with a person you trust.
Already learned that lesson.
. . . . . posted:||11:34 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
New playlist today:
1) New Found Glory "Sincerely Me"
2) Aerosmith "Avant Garden"
3) Aerosmith "Fly Away"
4) Bran Van 3000 "Astounded"
5) Dispatch "Two Coins"
6) Feinx TX "Tearjerker"
7) Marcy Playground "Sex and Candy"
8) Veruca Salt "Volcano Girls"
9) Veruca Salt "Pretty Boys"
10) Nick Drake "Pink Moon"
11) Wave "California"
12) Coldplay "Yellow"
13) Hepburn "I Quit"
14) Sarah Vaughn "My Funny Valentine"
15) Joybox "Special (english version)"
16) Mathew Good Band "Prime Time Deliverance"
17) Mathew Good Band "Fearless"
18) Moffats "Bang Bang Boom"
19) Our Lady Peace "Clumsy"
20) Sarah Harmer "Basement Apartment"
21) Sarah McLachlan "Better Than Chocolate"
22) Save Ferris "Your Friend"
23) Sugar Jones "Days Like That"
24) Aerosmith "Pink"
25) Aerosmith "Jaded"
26) Garbage "The World is Not Enough"
27) Incubus "Anti-Gravity Love Song"
28) Incubus "Pardon Me (acoustic)"
29) Lit "Miserable"
30) SR71 "Right Now"
31) Stone Temple Pilots "Interestate Love Song"
32) Swell 26 "Letters to Angel"
33) Wheatus "Teenage Dirtbag"
2+ hours of musical goodness.
Nothing to do today besides work on web pages and practice guitar. Oh wait... I have to finish A Brave New World for english next year and I need to get started on my other oil painting assignments. Crap.
Naw, today I'll just veg. With all the heavy social interaction today, I need the break.
. . . . . posted:||11:19 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Went with a party of 10: me, sis, christy, matt, sarah, mike, his friend, taylor, taylor's bro. Mike and amigo we really good shots (damn them) and almost always got to the top 5 shooters. I did fairly well... just that the "gun" isn't designed for precision shooting. Regardless, on my last game I used my sniper skills from the second story to knock off people. In the end... 3rd place! Whoo!
Everytime I came out of that room I was sweating profusely. The adrenaline rush was well worth the feeling of dirt and stickiness that clings to me... yes, I plan to shower before bed. Afterall, no plans tomorrow.
After the games of Laser Quest Sarah and her posse left while the remaining six went over to Chuckie Cheese's. How disturbing; you have to be 18+ to get in. They even had a red/velvet rope to keep you out. Funny since a few minutes before we were discussing the lack of good under18 clubs. Walked into the 99 cent store, but didn't buy much from that place. Walked down and we passed the Jacky Chan Express when half the people suddenly got a craving for chinese food.
So, we sat down at a table (had to grab two extra chairs for the others) and talked abotu miscellaneous stuff while the servers brought our food over. That, and watch Telemundo's version of America's Funniest Home Videos... scary.
Matt's off to camp in Catalina Isl. tomorrow at 6am and won't be there for two weeks. A pity since the Final Fantasy movie comes out this wednesday, and all us FF Fanatics were gonna watch it together. So, we decided to go watch it when it comes out and watch it with Matt when he comes back (and in correlation to our FF Night that night).
Scary... I actually like some of ATC's songs. (they're a two guy/girl blonde/brunette group a la ATeens except they're German) Specifically "Thinking of You" since it's one of the less techno-pop songs that they usually do... that and Sugar Jones. Yes, I learn a lot from canadian music tv.
Oh, and btw Seri, Aquarians are the most individual personalities of the Zodiac. It's very hard to pin-point exactly the characteristics we share. (unlike some signs where the members share that general set of emotions) Keep in mind though that Astrology is a very nonprecise science (if you could really call it that) so it's not the dead truth.
Hmm... reminds me of your (probably) still on-going search for some type of religious belief, right? Always wishy-washy back and forward from different beliefs...
Little tip. Always think too much. That way you get used to the negative thoughts running through your head and soon they stop mattering so much that you can easily start forgetting them. Just don't beat yourself up too much when you're examining some part of your persona that you don't like. (Reminds me of the truth mirror in A Neverending Story; everyone in the end is scared of what their true self is)
That, and you need to be patient. Erm, yeah.
Tell me, when did this post get so introspective?
. . . . . posted:||9:54 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
249-345 points: Welcome to America! Judging from your high score, you are an obvious transplant from the Philippines. There is no doubt what your ethnic identity is! You're Filipino, through & through.
Scary.
. . . . . posted:||2:18 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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From my seat at the computer (which I admit to using far too much than I really should) I can see out the window perfectly. At one point I see a slight drizzle of rain which literally two seconds later becomes a torrent of sharp, cold drops. At that point I closed the window. Half an hour later the rain abruptly stops, and the pavement dries in 15 minutes.
The first few showers were cruel and unusual. Major one during the evening session of summer school, was very very hot. The following day it was 110 with 100% humidity. Of course, me being from the equator and my filipino genes I ended up sweating like a prostitute in church. (speaking of which, have to go there tomorrow. ech) Later, as the summer showers persisted, the temperature got cooler and now I welcome the rain.
After today's flash-flood-maker, the outside air was around 80 degrees so I decided to go outside for a bit. Brought a cd walkman with Mandrigal music in it. Read Cry to Heaven while listening to the same arias they spoke of in that book... only got past page 40 before I drifted off to sleep.
Now waiting for a batch of oolong tea to cool so I can have some iced tea. Oh yeah, Tokyo Babylon's on.
. . . . . posted:||11:25 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Currently talking to Matt. Yep, confirmed. Two points: laser tag tomorrow (where I have to "play" hit-on his friend Tyler), and I'm no longer infatuated. How did I ever manage to think otherwise in the first place?
Yes! Our Lady Peace is on Much Music right now and is jamming utterly effing great! Damn Raine is hot!... too bad he's taken (by a girl no less)
. . . . . posted:||9:40 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||1:41 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
4 hours of heavy manual labor. And it's around 95 inside the house.
Yes folks, I've been rearranging my room. The computer I never use anymore is now gone from my desk save the monitor which I couldn't find a box for. I have three fake-fish tanks (go Living Reef!) set up to look like a mini aquarium and covered one of those magnetic game boards with weird ranting using those Magnetic Poetry words.
Now... I need to rest. 6 hour band practice tomorrow after lunch and my fingers need all the strength they can muster.
Hmm... Yes, Willow should be the next 'big bad' on Buffy for the new season.
. . . . . posted:||1:38 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||1:35 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Around 10:00pm dad asked sis and I if we wanted to go get ice cream. Sis said yes, I didn't. But, I went anyways. Spent the time at Borders looking through books and deciding what to buy with my $200. Found two small booklets in the art section I wanted to buy... but at $20 a piece I felt like being frugal. One was a collection and biography of Toulouse LaTrec's artwork, and the other was a small anthology of different crucifixion scenes made by Phaidon (the best art-book makers in my opinion). A bit disappointed with the later book since they didn't show exactly how graphic those paintings could get. But, with the undertone of christianity ever present in these American Roots (and about half of the world as well) they wouldn't demean their savior like such.
So, in the end I bought four items at a total of $40: A Brave New World, This Boy's World, Cry to Heaven, and an issue of XY. All containing heavy homosexual content... well, except ABNW. (which, by the way, is required reading for next year's english class) Funny thing about acquiring that XY mag... the section they placed it at is wedged between the Maxims and the Sports Illustrated -- if I were a bit more paranoid I'd say it was a ploy to disencourage people to buy magazines from the gay/lesbian section, but I'm not -- so you always feel uncomfortable with the looks people give you. This time, however, there were these two guys standing directly infront of that section, reading from an XY. At first, I just thought they were mocking it, but listening a bit to their converstation from the otherside of the magazine rack (where the art mags are located) they were seriously talking about the articles. Aww, how sweet. So, I walk casually over and say "excuse me" to get their attention. At first, they had a deer-in-the-headlights look but then I reached for an issue of XY (and one of Out News which I decided not to get). I smiled at their slightly surprised look and said "thank you" for moving aside as I walked down and out of the magazine section.
Later, the cashier lady gave me the universal one-eye-cocked look when she saw the XY I was buying. I gave her the so-what/who-cares/fuck-off/fuck-you look to counter, and she heaves a low sigh before she scans it (takes her 10 times before she quit and just typed in the serial number) and tells me the total cost.
Well, that was interesting. This month's issue of XY features a lot of stories and pictures about love which I have yet to read all... the ones I have read (including the one about Brad from American High and the idolization of Johan Paulik) are rather touching and really hit close to home.
On a musical note: listen to Fenix TX's "Tearjerker" and Nick Drake's "Pink Moon" now!.. oh yeah, and any ATeens song. But only in moderation!
. . . . . posted:||1:09 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Grandma's mourning the annaversary of the death of her father. She's looking through old photos and crying. To make her feel better I picked a rose from out of the garden for her.
. . . . . posted:||3:29 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
One thing I do like about his house: the large windows. It's raining right now, so the grey skies don't give off as much light as usual. Most of the time that's a good thing, but today I'm in the mood for sun. The dreary clouds don't let enough light in.
Mmm... warm summer rain... I feel like going outside and dancing among the roses.
. . . . . posted:||2:46 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||2:24 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||1:45 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
So, PE. Semester final which consists of writing one page about our favorite sport because the 50 question test was "lost" by one of the coaches. Sis brought her bass and I my acoustic so we were practicing in the back gym. Mr. Talented comes over and asks to see my guitar so naturally I hand it over... big mistake. He didn't harm the guitar or anything... but all the guitar players were intimidated instantly. I got bored so I painted Sarah's feet with "bindhi" red-ink pen. Later, played cards with Matt and Brit; did fairly well. When Matt won a game and got up to do his "happy dance" I decided to take a page from Tim, and I tackled his feet. We both went crashing onto the ground, and a mini-wrestling match insued. Loved the decievingly-innocent close body contact and girations.
Coach decided to be nice and led people on a "nature hike" to the parking lot. In other words, those with cars could go. I called my dad to pick us up and went over to Matt's place as previously planned.
My god, his house is gorgeous. Actual steps lead up to the main door. Floral engravings and sculpting on the stairway railing. Roman columns that you could pole dance to. A fountain-esque swimming pool in the back yard next to the gazebo with, again, more Roman columns.
We ate capacino chocolate chip cookies while arguing over the difference in 1% and 2% milk. Later, showed me around the upper level of the house and we crashed on his bed for a few minutes. That boy has a large collection of classics and amazing contemporary fiction. I grabbed an anthology of Lord Byron's poems and we read many out loud together.
Then went to dad's office where his dad showed off the amazing collection of guitars he had (almost all hand inlaid with pearl, all costing over $1,000 each) and brother R played guitar for a bit. My god, that guy is even better than Mr. Talented!
But as he played on, Matt and I played around with his dog Trooper. Thing is, Trooper was on M's lap and he was sitting in a love-seat sofa so I sat at his feet. At one point R commented on how wrong that looked, so we broke off.
Oh yeah, couldn't get much closer to Matt because sis, Christy and Cristin were present too.
Yes, I've found another kindred spirit. Despite the fact that he doesn't like to showcase it much, Matt is very cultured, well read (obvious with the 100+ books on his already-read shelf... and 200 on the need-to-read one), musically inclined (piano player for 4 years but quit six months recently), writer/poet and he has a voice one would melt into when he reads his poetry. All he needs now is a more promonent appreciation for art and not be as straight as an arrow. Then he'll be exactly like myself.
... You know what. I figured something out. I'm not infatuated with Matt. I never really had good guy friends with whom I'm comfortable with, let alone share the same interests, likes (almost), and needs for self-actualization. So, I'm mistaking a true sense of platonic connection for extreme longing.
Wow, now that I know that I'm feeling better than I have in days.
. . . . . posted:||1:36 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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"Love you when you dance, when you're freestyling trance. So pure, such an expression."
. . . . . posted:||11:07 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And here I am swimming in a vat of my own unrequited infatuation with a straight guy. I thought I had already gotten used to living life as an extremely hopeless romantic (let's all pause and take time to remember the feelings spent on Mr. E) but this one completely threw me off guard. So much for boy-chasing abstinence.
I'm reeling still from the 5 cups of concentrated caffiene in the tea I drank. Achieved a half-asleep/half-awake state of conciousness... whilst angels swing incense 'round above my head. Hah, yeah right.
The dogs next door are barking at the Alanis Morisette cd I'm playing. Ha, stupids.
Strange feeling that for the past week I've never been hungry, nor have I had the urge to eat. I was just expected to so I did. A sort of internal nutrition hypnosis.
My god. I haven't touched paint in almost two months. What the hell have I been doing since then.
"If I had to have two words with the president, they'd be 'bippity boppity' at which point everyone hisses out 'boo'."
Surreal moment at 6:00pm. Hot, humid summer rain. While the bright sun was out. During our nutrition break, no less. So, I felt like dancing around in the front lawn of the school with Cristin and Matt. But the cop on a bike was blocking the exit. Rain with the sun shining is a sign that two god(desse)s have married. Well, that's what my family says anyway. And on a day like such, I have a good mind to believe.
Suffering the effects of music-fasting. Listening to a cd now to get rid of the silence, but I'll pay for it. Seems that the music I listen to, while, or before writing songs severely influences the writing. So, complete silence till I'm ready to write.
Tomorrow, band practice at Matt's for about two hours if we're freed from school early. But we'll only stay for two hours. Two hours is not enough. So many things I want to do. In the span of two hours. At Matt's house.
Damn, I need a break from thinking. But nothing's good on tv right now.
. . . . . posted:||10:59 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh yes, I have a picture that I took of Matt up.
Again, not much to talk about today.
. . . . . posted:||3:15 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And the end of each day I find myself tired out from PE earlier in the day. Not a good thing if you're off to driver's ed just four hours later. So, what do I usually do to collect energy? Sleep. And if that's not available... caffiene.
Driver's ed in approximatley two hours. Tests will be graded and I need at least a 95 to keep my A (yeah yeah, shut up. I have to get straight A's, family thing).
Yeah, nothing profound to say today. What do you expect, I'm exhausted.
. . . . . posted:||2:05 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . posted:||10:59 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||10:52 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
At one point I got really really bored, so I decided to call up some of my friends. Christy, no one picks up. Sarah, machine. Mark, on hold via sister for at least half an hour. Then I decided to call Matt's place. I was greeted with multiple high-pitched screamings and such other noises. When things become slightly more coherent, I hear a girl talking, so we made small talk. She mentioned how everyone was talking about my "molestation" of Kristin the other day. Well, it wasn't really molestation. I was just singing "Your Song" to her while getting up really REALLY close.
Anyways, I'm paraded through conversation with at least 5 other girls who all asked me if I thought Kristin was sexy. ("Yes, I think she's sooo goddamn sexy!" "... really?" "Nope. Just kiddin") Matt finally comes on and we start talking about basically everything. At one point he asked me over to his place for the party, but dad wouldn't drive me over to the house. So... that plan fell through the cracks.
Watched the fireworks while on the trampoline. Mediocre show. Great trampoline.
Now, I'm tired. Off to bed for me.
. . . . . posted:||10:47 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Uncle's BBQ in half an hour. Better get ready now.
. . . . . posted:||3:28 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . posted:||1:43 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I've been making up the mistakes of my early years ever since I went to highschool. Went to my first serious dance (last dance during 8th grade doesn't count) and danced a lot instead of the majority of friends who just stood around.
And I have a family bbq tonight. What fun times to be had!... ha
I want to go out sometime. These days I've suffered complete cabin fever. In short, I'm bored. I want something new. I need fresh air. The rooms in this house have grown stagnant.
And I'm tired of the near-complete lack of companionship. I should call someone up.
. . . . . posted:||1:42 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||12:20 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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"I'm slipping through the cracks between the fingers of your warm embraces and cold kisses."
I'm in a mood for eviceration. Well, no mood really. Just a weird feeling of disassociation. You know, like when you decide to get an ear-plug except it's in your tongue so you have that gaping hole in the middle of your tongue and you lose all sense of bitter tasting foods?
Disappointed. Had a few plans for tomorrow (it being the 4th of july and all) but all of them fell through. Originally was going to join the Summerlin 4th of July parade with Sarah and company... but I need a ride to her house... at 7:00am in the morning. Not working. I need a fucking driver's license.
Was going to Cosmic Bowling tonight. Ha, people forgot to mention that they only had it on fridays and saturdays. It was enough to see Matt for literally a minute. Nice blue hair.
Oh by the way, he's going to the parade thing too.
I've been the mother superior of bitches today. Everyone was fighting over use of my cd player. Naturally, when I wanted to play the music I wanted to, everyone said "hell no!" and put their music on again. What did I do? Take the cd player away. Later, I did that when K changed the cd without telling me, and she became a bigger bitch than I. Fuck you. Fellow band member, yes. But fuck you.
Sister's playing the bass. I'm trying to listen to my mp3's. The bass amp is in the same room. Both of us in the same room trying to listen/play the music we want to. Fuck her too, I need time to cool off.
I'm very quickly becoming disinterested in being in a punk band. Personally, I prefer techno, emo, folk, or "alternative" music. Don't get me wrong, punk is awesome to listen to... but I wouldn't choose it as my means of musical expression. Besides, the amount of bands out there using power chords almost exclusively with the same three chords over and over again is so goddamn fucking annoying.
Okay, so my disassociative state has turned to one of anger. Ranting, boisterous, noisome, general beacon of annoyed attitude. It seems today that all the people I talk to annoy the piss out of me and all the people whom I had never talked to are the only ones I can stand right now.
.... yes, I'm well aware I mentioned Matt in this one. Damn, back to step one.
. . . . . posted:||11:11 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||4:23 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Their newest video from Just Push Play ("Fly Away From Here") is completely awesome. Made like a live-action japanese mecha movie (like Hakaiden) except with an American touch of added action and, frankly, far better done. Regardless, they do have all the requisite characters for a mecha storyline: human-like combat robots, one female pilot with her male rival duking it out above a heavily concentrated urban city and in the atmosphere, and an "evil head guy" complete with striped suit, cane, glasses, who transforms into a rock-angel in the end. Yes, am liking much.
Spent the majority of driver's ed today writing lyrics/poems in a yellow notebook. Filled one page with just one-line phrases that might be inspiration for a song.
"Keeping the dream alive when the dreamer dies."
"It's harder to keep to yourself in an empty room."
"Setting up Christmas lights in the middle of July."
"Laying under a blanket of incense smoked."
"Plucking roses from water vases."
"Licking the lies off your fingertips like chocolate shake off french fries in the cool summer shade."
... to name a few of the more notable ones. I've already written half a song from a line my friend Lauren said.
Ugh. Noticed something while watching MTV late at night. (yes, I know I should know better) With the wave of female pop singers/sex bombs, I've discovered the very first big one: Mariah Carey. Cringe. Back in the mid 90's when she was big no one cared to notice how slutish she looked. Then again, no one really complained much.
Speaking of which, I remember something my dad said about one of her videos (where she's floating on a pillar) : "See, that's where kids these days get the idea to have sex early." Funny to note since he'd never say that now. The move to Las Vegas has been a good one for all the family... well, maybe mom's not too thrilled to be living with the mother-in-law (who would) and grandma doesn't like the fact that I'm tearing down the good boy image she has of me. But hey, if she can't deal, she shouldn't have associated me with being an angel in the first place.
"I wish I was born to suit you better."
. . . . . posted:||4:19 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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I did, however, came to realize something. A little while back, I wasn't feeling so well and made the mistake of going on AIM. I had a very brief conversation with Leah which ended with her yelling at me about being utterly selfish. (still very sorry about that one)
So, the epiphony: Yes, I am a bit on the selfish side. Why? For all of my early childhood (up till the time when I moved) I lived to make others happy first before putting my own happiness first. Sure, that's a fine ideal... but people who have that are often taken advantage of. Badly. Looking back to my elementary school years (dubbed the 'eye-patch years' because of the method which they tried to cure my stigmatizm) I found myself being an utter loner, completely antisocial, annoying to no extent, and possibly the nerdiest kid in the whole school. Hell, I was president of my 5th grade chess club. Was like that way because I dedicated all my time to studying and pursuit of academia because my mother had instilled the idea of me being a prodigy. I was constantly used by my peers for answers or favors, and in a desperate attempt to make friends, I obliged. God, how wrong I was.
Now, my slight self-ishness is an attempt to take back from that time my lost priorities for self-actualization. A self-actualization which was completely mine and not an urging from parents, teachers, or peers. 'Course, I let it get out of hand sometimes far too often... I'll have to find my "happy medium" of compromise sometime soon.
On a lighter note. Finished my tedious task of scanning 50+ pictures from the three rolls of film I used during summer school. Can't wait to put them up on my photo site... or to get up my photo site in the first place.
Regardless, must leave for driver's ed now. Adieu, self.
. . . . . posted:||3:40 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A bit on the scary side since I didn't like her newer cd when it first came out. Now, I love it! (no, not for that reason) Another song to listen to (with a great video that fell out way too fast) is "So Pure." The video concept of dances throughout the ages was very well done for that video.
. . . . . posted:||3:29 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Those Bonzi buddy things are... freaky. I should get a sheep like Seri did.
. . . . . posted:||11:45 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The older people in my family don't suit me much. Father's okay; a bit eccentric, ever the show off, annoying habits once in a while. Mother's anti-social which isn't a problem till I want to bring over (boy)friends. And then she has this annoying baby voice which she speaks in when trying to act cute. On the exact opposite side, she has this bull-dog face whenever she's angry which stays intact at least an hour after she stops actually being angry.
Grandma... I fear I have no stamina to write everything I loath about her.
Yes, if you haven't noticed, this is a rant.
. . . . . posted:||3:24 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||3:15 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Grandma's scolding me about everything again. First it was about not washing my dishes (while I was in the restroom by the way), then about using too much water while washing (were as she doesn't use enough so I have to rinse off my dishes before using otherwise I'll taste dish cleaner), and then about putting my bass guitar away when I'm finished (when, again, I was going to play it after taking a short break).
I don't say this much anymore because I reserve it for people who extremely annoy me but I think in this case I can. My grandma's such a fucking FOB.
. . . . . posted:||9:50 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Randomness: Compiled a 200+ playlist of techno dance music. Feel like getting up and dancing, but there's no room to move around much. Pout.
Randomness2: There's a sort of huge infatuatory-web going on with my circle of friends. In short, here it is: I like Matt. Matt likes C. C likes Mark. Mark likes Kristin. Kristin and Matt are very close, almost sibling like. No multiple linkings like the last time. But still, the amount of sexual frustration in the group is staggering.
. . . . . posted:||5:02 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||2:23 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . posted:||2:16 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Urgh. Jealous of him, him, her, him, him, him, her, him, him, and him. All for various reasons. But a majority of them for having someone to cuddle up to at night besides a body-length pillow.
. . . . . posted:||2:14 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I need to stop this Matt obsession before it gets any worse. Talked with sis about it for a long time and I've finally figured out why this one's so big. Yes, I had an extreme crush on Eric. But you see, I hardly knew Eric so when I made advances he got scared off. Matt, on the other hand, reciprocates them thinking that either I'm just playing or teasing. Just general harmless stuff, right? Well, the said harmless stuff is just fueling my infatuation. And the movies... Well, I'll let the Little Angel from Hell tell you all about that one.
When coming home from band practice (at about 9:00pm) we looked over from a rather high view point and saw... fireworks. Hrm. Apparently the Santa Fe casino didn't want to compete with all the other casinos so they held their show today. Rather surreal. Dad just parked on the curb and everyone watched the display while we ate our Jack-in-the-Box (only thing I trust of theirs is the ultimate cheeseburger and the chicken) (spicy chicken this time).
July 4th promises to be a weird and unusual day. C wants to schedule a band practice early in the day (around 9:00am-ish) and then her family's having a barbeque party so we're invited to that one. Sis and I have our own bbq party held by our master-chef uncle (well, at the grill anyways) which we've attended every year thus far. Sera's planning an outing to the movies followed by watching the fireworks from the roof of a casino. And then Matt himself is having a party at his house... if he can get enough people to come. Naturally, you know which party I want to go to, right? Wrong. I wanna go to all of them. I need to get things sorted out before wednesday, otherwise I'll be stuck at home doing nothing.
Ugh. Dare I say it?..... I love you boy....
. . . . . posted:||2:03 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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