Sudden urge to write this. Blame the music, damn you! Oh well:

Honestly, I don't know why I try so hard any more. Putting up with all of your quirks, quams, and other appropriate "q" words is starting to irritate me. The way that you would crunch at your morning breakfast cereal to some sort of beat or rhythm. It's almost as if you're trying to make eating melodic... how you can achieve that I have no clue.

And then how you would always insist on sleeping while facing the window. With the same two pillows to cushion your head. The same two pillows you insist on keeping separate whenever I'm busy washing the sheets and linens. Having shared as much of ourselves as we have already, one would think that you wouldn't mind which particular pillow you got for that night. But no, you insist on the same set of everything. Dishes, papers, pens, jackets, and even those little bar bells for whenever you feel the urge to work out. By the way, those things are still covered in dust. Everything is always separate. Sometimes I can't help but feel that, when I first moved into your home, you wanted to keep some line of division to keep all our things separate. I can tell you this, it irritates me.

Your anal retentiveness irritates me.

Hell, you irritate me!

... I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.

Really, it's stupid that I bring this up. I know where my loyalties will lie at the end of the day. You can find them in our bed, wrapped around your waist or across your shoulders. Because as much as you irritate me sometimes... as much as I threaten to end things... well, that was just that one time. Still, the fact that I would suggest splitting up.

Never mind.

But what I was trying to say was... At the end of the day I can always forgive you. I can forgive your attempt at turning breakfast into some sort of STOMP act. I can forgive your need for separation when it comes to our personal things. Hell, there's one line of division I'm very thankful for: the one in our bathroom. I enjoy my clean half of the sink, thank you very much.

How can I forgive you? I was just getting to that.

Well, now that you've posed the question, that kinda ruins the whole flow I was trying to get.

... No, I'm not trying to... Yes, I guess I am stalling to figure out what I'm going to say. Okay then, how about this?

I can forgive everything that irritates me about you because... They're just part of you. There, I said it. What, be more precise? You're walking a fine line here, mister.

Um... You could say that... Well...

Do you really want me to elaborate?

... Fine.

For starters, I never criticized your emotions or personality. Well, except for your anal retentiveness, but I guess I'm no stranger to that one huh? But, I understand you. And I respect who you are. I know I don't say it that often, but I do.

What? No I'm not... oh, shush! I was just getting to the good part.

So yes, I understand you. I'm getting the feeling that you don't believe me. Ha! See, there's you're proof! I knew what you were thinking!

... All joking aside, yes I do understand who you are. Where you've been. Why you keep...

Don't want me to talk about that huh? I won't then.

But I will say this: I know exactly what you want or need at any given moment... Can we just please skip the perverse subcontext commentary for now? Oh, sorry... I guess you weren't going to comment about what I just said. Sorry.

Um... So... Do you remember that night?

You do? Then I won't have to go through the painful details.

Yes, so that night. Perfect example of what I've been saying. After... well, after that whole ordeal, you were absolutely stoic. I couldn't even here you breathe or see your chest rising and falling. It scared me how statue-like you were. I couldn't think of anything else to do or to say, because I knew I would only make matters worse.

So, I crept up to your standing figure, and wrapped my arms around you. And when I felt your embrace still lingering, hands limp against your side, my arms only tightened their hold of you. Like you were some sort of... I don't know... something that I knew I had to keep in my grasp unless I lost you.

A firefly? Yes... you could say that I wanted to keep you like a firefly. A bit odd, don't you think?... Sorry.

But I knew that's what you wanted. I knew that despite your cold exterior and general aire of disassociation... you really wanted me to be with you that night.

... Thank you. I feel better now that you've said something about--

What?! You don't remember that hug I gave you! Well... I'm hurt.

But that's okay. Because I know you.

I... no! I am NOT trying to avoid that word. Still, you can't make me say it!

No. Will. Not. Say. It.

...

Ha! Thought I was gonna, huh? Nope you've got me all wrong!

Besides, you know I'll never use the word love unless I mean it.

... Oh hell, you got me to say it.

...

Fine, I'll say it.

I understand you.

I respect you.

All because I loved you.

Are you happy?

Well... I'm happy I said it too.

No, I'm being serious! Seriously!

... Stop that. I just might smile.

Happy Easter! Erm, yeah, it's a bit late.

Celebrated this festive day by going out to Black Angus after singing at church. The Black Angus back in Tempe was far better; each booth was larger and far more secluded. Also, there were no windows so it was perpetual night-lighting. The food was exceptional, per usual.

Last night I lit ten sticks of sandalwood and sent my parents barging into my room wonder what I was burning. Looking back, it has been a while since I've done the whole incense and candles at night. Mainly I stopped because grandma was complaining. After she left for the motherland for three months, I didn't have the urge to do so anymore.

I have 20+ wax sticks to burn, but not enough candle holders. Pity.

And Janis Joplin was playing all night that night as well.

I don't want to go back to the daily grind tomorrow.

So I shall paint tonight.

While listening to the Cruel Intentions soundtrack.

...

I believe that I'm turning into a bitter and cynical old queen.

Minus the old and queen parts.

::puts on his green shirt::

Yes, friends. Envy is back.

At this moment I do feel like bashing myself against the wall once or twice or all night long.

And denying myself pleasure has become a game.

No, I'm not talking about food.

I haven't touched my painting or my sketchbooks voluntarily.

Denying myself visual artistic expression.

Because I want to see how long I can go without being satiated.

Using discipline is a trait I have lost. I had far more discipline back when I was still pursuing my black belt in karate/kenpo.

So now I'm trying to gain some of that back.

Funny to think that some people would consider my fasting as spiritual purging for Easter.

I think I have issues discussing... erm, smuff. No, that's not how I want to say it. I really wanted to say "I have issues discussing the meaning of homosexuality" but I'm a bit timid.

I'd rather everyone live and let live and not talk about homosexuality as a separate identity. After all, we don't discuss heterosexuality as if it were anything unusual. And that's what upsets me. The very act of discussion makes homosexuality different. Abnormal. Unnatural. Seriously, there are no indepth discussions about heterosexuality as there are for homosexuality. It annoys me that people think that something so natural to me is so... not wrong, but unusual. Almost to a negative degree.

Then there's the subject of transvestites and transexuals. I won't pose my opinion about these subjects because I have no personal experience, and there for I do not want to give a statement that's full of shit.

Any statement that generalizes a large group of people, when taken out of a playful context, strikes me as wrong. What's worse is that when people accept these things so matter-of-factly. Even more so, when they're talking about that particular group's current mindset. Something said about how people felt in the past is safe because it's documented and unchangable. It's like saying that someone hates so and so when really they don't; misconceptions suck ass.

So, what spur all of this talk? Currently watching "The Celluloid Closet" with sis. And she asked for my view on the answer for the question Christy posed way back during that Buca dinner.

I spent too much time today just lying on my bed day dreaming again.

There's a self portrait in the dining room waiting for me to touch it.

Vocabulary homework for three classes are readying their blades above my head.

So does a take-home test. Except this math homework resembles a large anvil.

But I spent the day staring at the clouds that drift by instead.

Day dreaming.

I can't wait till the cast party at Buca.

Hmmm... so yes. How was your Good Friday spent? Mine was basically lying on my bed staring out at the clouds day dreaming.

Then there was this lil stint of a passion play that I performed in. Dear lordy, the people cannot act! Then again, look at how many devout catholics there are in the movie business. And no, techies don't count in this instance. Seriously, everyone was forgetting lines, falling out of character, or even walking straight into the spotlight when they're not suppose to be in the scene. Doesn't exactly help that our director/script writer/ dictator is a child of the feminist revolution back in the 70's just aching for a chance to direct again. You'd think that almost 3 decades of stage experience would garnish some sort of knowledge in the use of lighting. But no, the spot lights were horrendous. And any colored lights washed out all colors. Blech.

Afterwards, much congrats from everyone 'round, dinner at a buffet, and home.

But I couldn't go to sleep. Instead I spent three hours tossing and turning with the sudden realization... it's a bit sad, actually. I hardly know the guy. He is cute, that is a plus. Erm... um, yeah. So now I'm developing something for Tyler. No, not Ty; this one's from the cast of the passion play. Dear lordy. @_@

Remind me never to day dream about picking out china and silverware at Sears.

Which Member of the Endless Are You?
Was there ever a doubt? ::brandishes his covertable scythe/umbrella::

Well, considering that it's about 1:30am on the holiest (and certainly one of the most gruesome) day of the catholic religion... I would like to clear up some things.

No, the abundance of bondage and necrophillia that lace the pages of my sketchbooks do not reflect on my actual choice of sexual play. With bondage I seek less to focus on the kink and "abnormality" associated with it; mainly I use images of bondage to try to recapture a sense of reality in the fluffy-pillowed life I lead. It's a far healthier way of expressing my need for the sensation of being abused as to... slamming myself against the wall? The images of people tied up are self explanatory: the chains, ribbons, ropes, straps, and/or intestines which bind these subjects are only metaphors to some other discrepency which binds my characters in an emotional and psychological sense.

As for the images of necrophillia, I blame Poppy Z. Brite and her wonderful style of writing for getting me hooked. No, I do not find screwing corpses all that appealing. But this particular author which I adore was able to take something deemed unmoral by society's standards and make it sensual and intimately arousing. So, I seek to do the same things with the small occurences of necrophillia in my work. Again, the corpses in question are merely metaphors and symbols for people which the necrophilliac in question is condemned to associate with... either that or I needed an excuse to elaborate on a simple muscle/ internal organs anatomy exercise.

I get to perform today. Yay. No really, just shoot me now. Leave it to catholics to try to foul up anything attempt at making something authentic when it is not of their own religion. Case in point: my character's costume is completely inaccurate. The pharisees of the Sanhedran back in the days of Jeezy Chreezy wore far more open sleeves, there should be three stripes of blue/black on my prayer shawl, and where's my big-ass headdress? Nope. Then again, when it's a team of suburban house-wives creating the costumes, does one really expect them to research these minute facts? I thought not.

Yes, I have been avoiding you this entire week.

::smile::

Thank you, for being another one who has found out that bit of truth. That just because people aren't in those so called popular groups doesn't mean that they don't share their same vices.

But I'm not strong enough to case off my own chains.

I'm finding the strength to do so... still, it's safe to say that I'm addicted. If it were a drug it would be illegal and I would go to some facility and die. If it were a crime I would be sent straight to the executioner's block. If it were a hobby I would be the person so obsessed that I do not leave the house.

Sadly, it's none of the above. Chr--- lacks the strength to do it, I lack the strength to stop.

There's a reason why I locked myself in my room till 5:30 today, sister. It's to escape people that I knew would annoy me today.

And if anyone wants my sympathy or support, you're quite advised to be detailed. Don't be as vague as the morning fog, filling your speech with "I dunno's" and "well, no but...'s." You annoy me. I will not pry into your lives to find out what's wrong because I trust you to tell me if there's anything that's upsetting you. I will not call you to make sure that you're okay if you have not been heeding my advice.

But it's interesting to note that the people you think you know are just as multi-faceted as you are. And I'm beginning to see past their little manic-depressant masks to the frailty that they sook to hide from the world.

Ahem. New art page up. With thirty some new images. Now if you'll excuse me, the uploading process was a bitch so I shall die now.

::dies::

And it is finished. Really, I should've uploaded it about six hours ago but I thought better and went to sleep. Now I must go about my mundane day yet again.

Hmm... new layout designs are kinda in the miff at this moment.

I've been coming up with some nice ones... but they're not exactly dial-up friendly. Might consider doing something with less graphics... which means that 5 potential layouts are going down the drain.

If anyone enters my room at this very moment, they'll encounted a nice surprise. Practically every inch of wall in my room is covered in stickies. " 'Why?' that is your grace's part." I've been working out the story and mythology/ entire socio-economic of one of the many books I have in my head at the moment. Lucien would be proud.

Oh, and there's a GIR sitting on my bed at this very moment. Yes, ladies and gents, I have a GIR plushie.

... Drew? On Open Diary?...

kowaii...

::applause::

Seriously, I'm jealous of your ability to analyze. Or at least being able to write it in such a way that it is very concise.

Currently steeping in a cup of Carl Jung and Hermann Hesse tea.

For a research project in english, I have to choose an author who was directly influenced by a war. Naturally I picked Hesse, one of my favorite writers, as my topic of choice. I already have so much information on him, including books he has written as well as books written about him, that I could very well take my entire spring break to write my paper... but I'm not insane like that.

Still, this project will be quite easy.

"Love," he said. "Love is stronger than desire."
Desire laughed scornfully. "They are the same thing," she said.

- from The Sandman: Book of Dreams

Again, I'm convinced I have some sort of ability of empathy. I'm feeling every single one of my friends' troubles at this moment, and things don't look pretty.

Plus, with what I'm about to do at this moment...

I disgust myself.

And yes, I am choosing to be vague.

Grr. Developed a stripe of a blister on my right hand's index knuckle. Now I can't punch anybody hard enough; the pain'll hit me too. Grr.

In other news, I adore Sugarcult. Haven't listened to their music in quite some time, but currently doing so while washing dishes (which, with the previous injury, was literally a pain). It's the kind of music you want to run to; the perfect collection of songs to play full-blast in your car when the top's down and you're going 100+ down a vacant street. Not that I would know anything 'bout that...

I really should save up my money to buy something decent. Really, $200 in leather-bound sketchbooks would've been better spent buying 81sq. ft. of canvas for me to paint. Not that I have room anywhere in my house to actually expand that much canvas... which is why I need some sort of large studio. So I can work on my massive paintings. I'm bored with small paintings; the point of a small painting is for one to be able to associate one's self with the image. A painting larger than normal proportions forces the viewer to seem insignificant. And with this current idea for a painting, that's exactly what I want to accomplish.

In other news, currently scanning more pics from my sketchbooks to add to my art page (which will be moved over to this server once I have everything all fine and dandy)(thanks again dave!).

Fwap.

Hmm... I take too many of these damned online tests. This one, however, always manages to give me startlingly accurate results. Well, based on my mood at the moment.

"You feel as if you have missed out on a great deal that life had to offer and you go about trying to make up for past failures. Naturally at times you get depressed and you try to compensate for your 'missed opportunities' by living your life to the full. This is what, perhaps, may be described as 'living with exaggerated intensity'. In this way you feel you can break the chains of the past and start again - and it could be that you are right.

Being a somewhat gentle, emotional and sensitive person, you are at this time experiencing a considerable amount of tension. What you really need is someone who can be close to you and to listen to what you have to say.

The way things are, you feel that you are stuck in a rut and there is not much you can do about it. You feel frustrated and inhibited but if you can find a way to let yourself go, you may find that things aren't quite so bad as perhaps you thought they were. One consolation is that since you are an extremely emotional individual, with the right person you may be able to release some of that frustration and tension with some mutual tender loving care.

Recent disappointment has led you to become truly introverted. You are becoming suspicious of everybody and consequently you now feel that you are unable to trust anybody. Unfortunately it would appear that you are curbing your natural enthusiasm and imaginative nature - perhaps this is because you are fearful that you may become over enthused and find that you could possibly be carried away by wishful thinking. You are keeping your distance to see whether attitudes towards you are sincere - but this watchfulness could easily develop into suspicion and distrust.

You really would like to be completely uninhibited - to let your hair down - but you are held back by your sense of logic and rationalilty, since you realise that by simple stupidity you could lose everything - whatever that may be."

Yes, ladies and gents, it's ColorGenics again.

Exquisite.

Researching Farinelli and watching the movie several times furthers what I have been saying for the longest time; there should be castrati in this day and age. Yes, castration is barbaric, but I believe that it's necessary in order to reach the heights of which the castrati of the 18th century obtained. For now, all we can do is digitally push up a contratenor's voice into the higher register of soprano.

But, all major projects are finished so I'm relieved. Which means that I have a lot of time over spring break to simmer and relax. Oh joy.

Currently working on a new layout. Not sure what the theme of it may be, but I think I need to take a break from all the regality I've been creating.

In other news, on the bus ride from school I actually drew something worthwhile! ::gasp:: There was this guy sitting across from me, and when he wasn't looking I would draw his profile. Compared with my attempt at Gerard's face earlier that day, this was a vast improvement. I'm happy.

I should try drawing/painting something specifically for this.

Ahem. Further proof of the sheer disorganization of the Asian Pacific club.

Me: "Mika, as president I hold you solely responsible for not letting me know about this surprise party till last night."

Mika: "But I did tell you!

Me: "When?"

Mika: "At the last meeting... two weeks ago."

Me: "... you honestly expect me to remember something for that long?"

Oy vey... and considering that we have the motivation and the purpose this year to accomplish something, it's completely ironic that we don't have the means to fund our plans. Not to mention that I doubt Mika attended the last ICC meeting to discuss our plans for the vegetation "decorating" the quad.

Now that all major projects are over and done with... except my self portrait that is... I can rest!

Oh, and Matt's been grounded for getting an unsat in a class for not turning in assignments... funny since he still has a B in that class. But that means he'll be out of commission for most of spring break.

At least now I don't have to hear Barto's wailing and moaning about missing his "hot, sexy k****." -_-;;

I think I'll talk about the positives first today.

1) easy mind-mapping in english

2) easy note-taking in world history

3) whooped ass in chemistry's energy debates

4) literally falling ontop of "dolphin guy"

5) that entire discussion about chocolate

6) not touching my selfportrait

7) I am now an official US citizen

Funny thing to note 'bout #7. On your citizenship paper they write down your basic measurements: height, weight, eye and hair color, etc. But when I got back the final certificate, it said that I weighed 240lbs. ^_^ I'm sooo glad I lost all that weight.

Now for the negatives.

1) still wracked with guilt over yelling at barto last night

2) I owe Matt a grand total of three from today alone

3) almost made sis cry during the wait for our citizenship papers... which was strangely enough followed by a half-hour "game of rock, paper, scissors"/ "lesson in psychology." Better not to ask.

4) Might have insulted Sarah a tad. I tend to be doing that a lot recently. Could be the fact that now that I'm nearing Confirmation I feel that it is my duty to myself to reaffirm my position as a supposed Catholic. It's not that I don't respect those teachings, just that I'm still surveying other religions to see what I can obtain and setting my feet firmly in that one path would leave walking down a rather narrow hallway.

But don't worry Sarah, I'm not ticked at all. I just have to learn how to be able to talk about those kinds of things in public without getting defensive. Blame years of conditioning where whenever I've had to speak up it's always to oppose the jagged words and accusations of others.

5) I wasted a space by forgetting what I was going to put here. Oops.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go die now. Just spent the last four hours infront of the computer screen working on my research paper, revising my science fair paper, and revising/rewriting the consitution for APC. Frankly, my fingers are ready to die as well.

G'night.

Shut up. Just shut up. Yes, I can hear my conscience pounding at the door over how harshly I'm judging you, but shut up. I know this tactic, this method of gathering pity for yourself. I know how you set yourself up as the one who has the most troubles at the moment, even mentioning in exquisite detail how your great great aunt died. Even though you were not close to her whatsoever. I know how this game works. I know because I used to play it all the time, and if I'm not careful I find myself doing it even now. So stop. Before I lose all of what little patience I have left. Stop talking.

Stop.

I'm fucking sick of hearing the quams of those who're love-struck.

Mainly because each whimper and whine drives that stake farther into myself.

That it's been almost 2.5 years.

And in another 2.5 years I can call myself a virgin again.

2.5 years ago I had my first taste of a love that went beyond platonic. Or at least I think I did... doubt makes it unclear now.

I wish I could somehow transpose music into literature. Much like someone who tries to make 'listening' to a symphony enjoyable to a deaf person by projecting images. But nothing in language, save rhythm schemes and pentameters, can mimic the exact beat of this particular piece. Nor can I describe how utterly painful it is to listen to the notes transition from a fortissimo of powerful mourning to a pianissimo of quiet desperation and longing. That moment of passage where loud immediately becomes soft, and at that moment one can't help but hold their breath in anticipation.

... If you're still wondering whatever the hell I'm talking about, listen to Prelude in A Minor sometime.

In other news, I wish someone would call me. Anyone. People in my family at this moment are giving off the vibe that they'd rather not be disturbed right now, and god knows I'll never confess true emotion to them unless given the proper motivation.

Here's an interesting question: is it better to look up at the ceiling or down at the floor when descending a spiral staircase? In one hand you acknowledge the height you had once been at and long to return to that stature. The other option has you objectifying how far you have to descend, transfixed on reaching the lowest step. In other words, is it better to look back on better times without thinking too hard on the future, or is it better to forge into the future and leave contemplation behind?

And here I wanted someone to wish me good luck tomorrow. Well, I'll probably be getting a lot of that tomorrow; people will give me their vote of confidence and wishes for my success directly after I tell them what I'm about to go through. Just keeping polite conversation without really caring, saying just enough to make it sound like one is considerate. I want someone who remembered when I told them about a week or more ago about the importance of tomorrow's date.

Yes, I'm going in for my citizenship interview.

No, not even my parents have wished me good luck yet. They're too busy urging my sis and I to study. Well, my mother anyways. Father says that the interview is basically to assess one's value as a US citizen, and knowledge about minute details is unnecessary. Mom wants me to take a notecard into the interview.

Today's events... are non-sequencial nor are they important.

And I'm quickly growing impatient with the constant mournings of star-crossed lovers. Unless prose and poetry are used in their states of lamentation over the absence of the other, their wailing and moaning seems almost childish and pathetic. Worse off, annoying.

Which is why I'm becoming desensitized to the entire emo movement. First off the high, screechy vocals occupy 80% of all lead-singer's range. In otherwords, every-other emo band I hear I mistake for Saves the Day because the lyrics, the style, and the frontman are almost exactly the same. What makes it worse is their tendency to attempt to scream. If you want to sing and then scream, that's fine. As long as the contrast and transition aren't so completely jarring that one has to cover one's ears momentarily to complete the transition without the casualty of an eardrum. Case in point: Dashboard Confessional. Enough said.

And another thing... vintage clothes and thrift-shop boutique were fabulous, until each emo band I've seen onstage have reverted to complete 70's attire without the faintest hint of modern style. Yes, the 70's was an incredible era. But it's time has passed, and now it's our turn to re-invent fashion as ours.

I need something more melodic and pleasant for the ears at the moment, thank you very much.

As much as I enjoyed the dinner conversations of that particular night... there was one topic that left me quite sour. The people around me began to discuss whether homosexuality/bisexuality was a choice or not. Naturally Christy gave her opinion quite bluntly and with an aire of stubbornness or conviction that told you that no matter what you said she was unpersuaded. Her opinion: "Oh, definitely choice! Sexual orientation is something that you can't be born with." Sarah more or less gave out the response dictated by catholic doctrine: "Even if it is genetic, which it is not, one still has a choice whether to act on it or not." Not delivered as unabashedly as Christy's. Catherine, in her usual timid way of a head nod and a semi-mumbled answer, agreed more or less with Sarah. Matt's own opinion was brimming with restraint; earlier that evening he confessed that he constantly gets worked up about things. "It's not so much genetics and choice as it is upbringing. Depending on how you were brought up, you could end up gay or straight." ( keep in mind that this is all paraphrasing )

Meanwhile here I was seething in a continuously building frustration, but I remained quiet to keep myself from letting my mirthful response overflow from the brim. I really wanted to say something along the lines of: "How can you decide if you haven't any experience yourself?! Sexual orientation is compromised of many factors, and to generalize everything to one or two deciding factors is rather short-sighted and far too vague. I say live and let live, otherwise your inexperience with the subject matter and your debates founded on misleading, and often times feigned, information and intimacy will keep us at ends." But I know that part of that pent up frustration was connected to another incident where someone brought up the same question in order to show me "the error of my ways." And that moment, much like a brand upon my skin, left a lasting impression and added suspicion.

Thankfully, Catherine noticed my silence and stopped herself just as she was about to voice her own opinion. Even Matt's pandemic solution to the question, although he has experience, seemed far too much like a final judgement of sorts.

Then again, could just be my reaction to people with strong wills. If I encounter someone with opposing views who remains adamant about their side of the issue, I will not try to change their pursuation. Will tempered like iron will not melt easily, and I've had enough of my time wasted trying to bend others.

So, couldn't go to Lauren's St. Pat's party (dad wasn't willing to drive me all the way to N. Vegas) but Sarah pulled a last-minute bday dinner at Buca di Beppo.

Highlights of the evening: Jaron's scratchy balls, flirting unabashedly with the waiters and buss-boys, all the crude topics of discussion, shocking all those around us, and Francesca's laughing.

I tried being cheerful during the whole affair, and I did manage to pull it off early in the evening, but that damned dream kept me more or less docile. I... in the dream, I found myself with someone. And it was quite bizarre because this person is someone I never would've thought of as... anything besides a friend. But...

I'm happy to say that it was not Matt who was the target of my wandering eye that evening. Even though he did feed me a cherry Lady-and-the-Tramp style... a feat that sent the entire table cringing.

Can't help but feel like a damper during the entire evening.

But in other news, I've noticed something. Blues and Jazz is a very nostalgic genre of music. First off, the very personal and intimately expressive improvisations makes the performance of each song more or less unique. What's interesting is that most standards are from movies or shows, and are very rarely completely original. It's more about taking a well known, or at least popular, song and playing it in your own way, embedding your own emotions into the piece. And that's what I love most about this genre; it's highly personal, although it's enjoyment when played live is a bit too transient for my tastes. Which is why I buy CD's.

Hello. No, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth... yet. But I plan to once I use my army of pigeons to reverse the rules of gravitation using Betty Crocker's patented recipe.. but anyways.

Hello again. Took a short break because Puffy Ami Yumi's "Boogie Woogie No.5" was playing on the tv... yes, a Jpop music video on cable tv, and no it was not on the international channel. -_-;;

Just got back from a rather interesting experience known as the movie "The Debut." First heard 'bout it from mother about three months back, and it was recently brought to my attention by APC when the director/producer/writer offered to do a Q&A session with the club. Of course, on such a short notice we couldn't scheduel one... and a pity because the guy's pretty cool. I wanted to know where he got the main idea for the premise of the story; basically it's about a pinoy who wants to go to CalArts instead of UCLA for med. school... Yep, already this is starting to sound familiar.

The place was packed with my own kind... and I was affeared for all the non-filipinos 'round us. Especially in the arcade where they not only had DDR 5th Mix, but also PercussionFreaks 3rd Mix, Dance Freak, and EZ2Dancer 2nd Mix. Seeing all three being played at the sametime is a hailstorm of dazzling lights and fast-paced motions. But back to the movie.

Sincerely, you have to watch it (if you ever get a chance) with an audience of filipinos. Otherwise, like the reviewer who wrote about it in the Neon, you won't get all the inside jokes that make the movie so great. Examples? At the 'debutante' ball they set up the usual buffet/potluck complete with those chemical burners to keep the food warm. The father eats Longanisa for breakfast at the last scene. One of the main character's, Ben's, friends comments on the large set of wooden utensils hanging on the kitchen wall. Same said friend comments on the great taste of chocolate meat ::cough cough::.And the best part? The director graciously forgot to subtitle the meaning for the words "putagu na mo." ^_^ That phrase is used quite often in the film. I say the entire APClub should go watch, and also PA since they too are working on stuff for APMonth.

... Now time to return to my recent cycle of 10-hour sleeps. Main reason why I've been getting out of the house at near-tardy hours. Yargh.

Brought the self portrait home. Now need to work on it.

Oh, and looks like I might not be able to go to anything tomorrow. I have a history paper to write which I still need my sources for... Yeah, I need to shape up. I'd die if I did this in college.

Hmm... haven't mentioned anything 'bout it in the longest time, but I think I've figured something out for myself concerning Xander Harris' recent asshole-ness on Buffy (as the Duck points out here and in several other instances). True, at the beginning of the series Xander was just a semi-nerdy (or at least off-beat) highschool guy trying to survive exams and demons. However, he began to become much more "macho" once the men in Buffy's life became progressively transient. I believe that he acts more manly in an attempt to play the big brother for Buffy, since he isn't much good for anything else within the group besides witty commentary. Eventually he had kept this act up for so long that it integrated into his persona. However, a moment so fraught with fear and anxiety, such as his wedding, was able to briefly cause his resolve to crack. The moment where Xander first runs off after being shown a false future, his expression and body-posture are more defeated and shy, much like he was at the beginning of the series. But whenever he's within the presence of people he knows, his macho act comes back into play (ex. dropping the pedestal on the demon's head after marching back in).

Just a thought.

If you see people commenting on the amount of weight I had lost, please slap em. I've made it clear that discussing my weight makes me very uncomfortable.

And I'm starting to hate you're ability to dissect me.

Strangely enough, I miss James.

I remember doing something much like this a lil while back. Thankfully I decided against those photos and decided to go for something more... erm, clothed. But now that I'm halfway through my self-portrait, I look like a mask for a golden Buddha.

Just my luck, I guess.

And I was writing my manifesto against the other side of the chalkboard at art which is doubling as a wall for the lil enclosure I had set up for myself. Now if only I could shield myself from the prying eyes of those who walk through the door....

"Open fire, on the needs desire, 'm on my knees for you..."

Currently in a meditative sway to the music of Silverchair a la "Neon Ballroom" because their older, grungier stuff doesn't suit my mood.

"Mood? Moods are for cattle and love-play."

I never did seem to finish the book Dune. I got almost all the way but then I lost interest and cheated by watching the movie. Eh.

Finished Christopher Rice's The Snow Garden, and he's definitely growing into an amazing author. The small, yet semi-to-highly irritating, cliches and expressions he used during his debut A Density of Souls are thankfully absent, and his pinache for mystery and a bloodly conflict at the end are far better developed here. I also enjoyed how the characters were completely entangled within their own web of lies that the slow unravelling of their threads sent all the major characters into turmoil. What better way to describe exactly how harmful deceit can become, and how dangerous a grudge will be after nearly twenty years. As I begin my second reading of the book, I noticed how the entire plot of the book was foreshadowed in the actions of the the characters within the first 5 chapters of the book. Rather eerie. Oh, and the inclusion of Bosch's "Garden of Earthy Delights" was a nice addition as well.

And... once again, I find myself drifting. Nearly aimlessly. Grr... I need someone to be my anchor, 'lest I sail into the duldroms and be caught forever.

Some symbolism I find interesting:

Lucifer translates to "into the light."

The Star of Venus is also known as The Morning Star, another synonym for Lucifer.

Four pairs of wings symbolize the highest rank of angel; which was Lucifer who transcended the other ArchAngels.

Another name for Lucifer: "Old Scratch."

That is all.

I want someone to come up behind me and wrap an arm 'round my chest while the other 'round my waist, entrapping me within their warm embrace.

Or at least someone who would do something out of the ordinary to make me feel better.

Yeah, so now Nick knows 'bout this lil page. I don't mind, I guess, as long as nothing is mentioned in real life. Still... far too many people at school have their own online blogs/ journals/ etc. And far too many of them use it as vehicles of communication with eachother. I do not want that to happen.

I... it's interesting how... no matter what I say or do, my artwork always gives away exactly what's wrong with me. If you could see my sketchbook now (which I've been steadily adding to) you would understand. The Ten of Swords: Ignorant within Purgatory.

Currently haunted with a memory... that I really shouldn't be allowing myself to replay over and over within my mind. Is it possible for someone's body to be so lukewarm yet seering hot? How our contours fit together, although I suffered the bit due to my height, or lack there of. Dancing I like once did under streetlights, but it wasn't nearly as cold as it was that night. We couldn't tell though. The feel of your shirt's fabric against my cheek was soothing, and I allowed myself a moment of indulgence to savor each passing second of bliss. The fact that you are unattainable made my urge to never let go all the stronger. But no. You. You are, were, and for all that I know will remain forbidden fruit. So I must let go of this moment.

Good fucking lord.

I want passion and poetry within my life, yet I have had all my poetry and unrequited passion too lukewarm to digest.

Not even my family realizes that I need my silences.

Oh, yeah, before the day is completely over, "Tanjyoubi omedetou!" to Karen on her 16th year. And another apology for being so detached nearing the end of the "get together."

Yeah, I've been pissing people off left and right today. What's worse is that I don't even know it...

...

I'm just gonna stop for tonight 'lest I want to fill this thing with one-liners.

... ok. Read this at the wrong time. Yes, I did deserve that. I, however, was judging from a completely objective sense (much like one of the judges)... and the cringes were for the choice in music, not for the performers themselves...

But I know that you've somewhat forgiven me by the time mass started so I thank you.

Still, now I feel even more like shit.

... I'll shut up before I dig myself a deeper grave.

::smile:: Got nominated for the 'hostee' category. Thanks a bunch-o-poodles.

Speaking of which, went to Sarah's talent-show thingy over at Faith Lutheran... Well, the talent was lacking and completely inadequate... and that's me being generous here. The first dancing group were these two really young kids and sadly enough they won. The other dancers consisted of a girl dancing to the Diva Pavlo Nagila's song (from the Fifth Element), someone dancing to "The Power of Prayer" ::convulsive cringe::, and lastly a duo making a half-assed attempt at moving their bodies to "AM & PM" ::another cringe::. Singing was... okay. One girl sang "Reflections" and completely lacked emotion in her singing styles, another sang "Irresistable" ::cringe:: and tried her best to playing to the crowd, Sarah sang "Think of Me" and... well, I'll have a word with her later. Lastly a duo sang "Morning and Night" from "Lakme." I won't even count the US History AP class attempting to sing "The Battle of New Orleans." There were two bands playing and... truth to be told, neither were that great. The first one, Plumm, lacked any talent instrumental-wise. The other band, Toy, was decent enough... except that they were a complete copy of Deftones. Yeesh.

Before all that horrendousness, went to Christine's bday "come and paint my wall" party. The wall looks like a bad attempt at imitating Pollock. Gave up on the wall after Christine realized that it was far too messy, so we just spent more time downstairs playing 'round with her workout equipment. In otherwords, I tried teaching Marlowe how to fight using kendo, tried to explain how to use the boxing equipment, and the besting Christine at a small boxing match. Then, watched Swordfish while raping her cabinets.

... Hrm.

Yeah, so pile on the shame and the angst like another helping of Big Mama's humble pie. I... I'm sorry again, Karen. I wish I could tell you, but I don't ever want to be ashamed to face you like I do sometimes to Matt.

My pain isn't important anyways. Right now Barto needs comfort, and the problems of others outweighs mine own.

... Aw, fuck. It was a new episode of Will and Grace tonight.

Oh god... I wish I could say the things I want to say here. But I know that people who care for me read this. Even Karen has interrupted once 'bout something that I said that worried her. Of course, it was nothing. This thing that I've kept hidden, however... it will kill me. Slowly, yes. Inevitably, yes. I long to be able to write freely what I want to about it here, but I don't want to upset all my friends. Yes, I'm protecting all of you from something that I need to stop. But I can't. Because as wrong as it is, it works for me. And it is one of the few things that has been getting me through these past weeks.

Well, after several months doubting the power of visual art, I once again felt it's tremendous and awesome power. No, I did not have an aesthetic experience. Just artwork and subjects I could relate to with such a clarity that it completely disrupted me. First that short film, and then seeing that piece hanging in the gallery... It was all I could do to keep from breaking down at the sight.

Oh, now I remember. Got a letter/send-out from Duke. Rather nicely designed letter complete with pictures of "regular" campus life. I'm sorry, but the east coast is not for me... and lately I've been getting a lot of informational pamplets from some top colleges. Yeesh.

Erm... so yeah. Total count that I owe: 7. Three from monday, two from yesterday, and two more today. Ergh.

Still need to work on my paintings.

... Forgot what I was going to say. Dammit.

Fuck it.

This goes out to all the single people in the room.

You who bear witness to your friends' accomplishments.

You who act as a shoulder to lean on when the railing on your side has gone.

You who feel the brunt of life skim 'cross you.

You who, by playing the observer, become evermore lonely.

You who value love and because of that refuse to squander that word.

You who are willing to wait for love.

You who are sick of waiting for fate to deliver her goods.

You who are tired of friday nights at home.

You who are tired of small, cold beds.

You who have never experienced "the morning after."

You who build up facades to mask those insecurities.

You who throw yourself into your life to avoid making a connection.

This goes out to you.

My kindred souls.

... shit ...

At times like this I would go crying to one of my friends.
But I won't trouble them with my own pains.
Can't I be self-efficient like how I thought I was back in AZ?
During those times I didn't need anyone.
Everyone sucked there.
From my point of view anyways.
Getting up to face the mass of prats was unbearable.
Here, I wake up ready to enjoy the day.
Instead, these days I wake up dreading some sort of assignment.
Just stay in bed and sleep.
Keep the world's trouble from getting to you.
Loneliness doesn't matter.
Maybe it's less stressful trying to keep yourself occupied.
Nevermind how other people think.
Or, mull over everyone's opinion.
Proverbial headache warning.
Quite an annoying situation.
Resisting the urge to find a shoulder to cry on.
Since everyone is pre-occupied with their own situations.
Then again, I'm being selfish with this attention.
Understand that I needed assurance.
Very much so.
Why can't anyone else see that?
Xenith? Try the opposite.
Yesterdays ago I was fine.
Zealousness doesn't appeal to me now.

... disjointed.

I'm disgusted with myself. And with what I have done.

One way or another, I'll end up killing myself.

On a lighter note, halfway done with a certain someone's bday present. Shhh, don't tell her I mentioned anything.

Current mood spoiler: mother-dearest. One of the many reasons why I wouldn't be able to stand living with a woman for the rest of my life: my mother, through her actions, has instilled me with the notion that women get completely scary during that time of the month. I know for a fact that not all women are like that (sis, for example, just gets a bit wackier) but having a volatile mother for three days out of a month while one is growing up, especially during the hell that was Arizona, does not help.

And I was so fucking happy when I got home, as well.

My day was more or less shit till about 10:07am when, while in the library, James started playing the piano, and half the class gathered 'round him and started singing. It was like the lunch scene from Fame, minus the flashy dancing. No sir, just several rounds of "Lean On Me" with Taylor doing all the gospel vocalizations.

Chemistry was a bit better since Ms. B changed the seats again, and I get to sit next to Taylor, Flavey, and Marcy (puddle!) now.

Art was... okay till the last twenty minutes. For an enrichment activity, the group presenting Impressionism held a mini-party at the end of the day outside with apple juice posing as wine and a dish with absolutely delicious apples, grapes, crackers, and cheese. I was completely stuffed at the end of the day.

... Then I came home. Got semi-annoyed when sis started experimenting with different styles for my hair, but then got really annoyed when mom came down and practically barked orders at us.

After doing one or two of the things she commanded me to do, I went upstairs, dressed down, and climbed into bed till 9pm. 6 hour naps in the afternoon... not a good sign.

Because of that whole incident I lost all drive to get a head start on my painting. Grr.

Grr... it's tough being manic depressant.

And it's even tougher to ignore the pizza which has been brought home for dinner.

Hm... distress. April is filling up like the Titanic at the moment.

The only weekend I have free for April is the week of the 5th. Afterwards, I have Language Fair on the 12th. Incubus concert on the 21st. RENT on the 27th. And somewhere, between all these dates, the confirmation retreat is being juggled. You know what I say? Fuck god, I'm going to all these events which I have awaited/ paid for/ prepared for. Grr.

And of course, seeing how wonderfully organized my church is, the dates have been completely askew.

Why is mother dearest getting upset over all this? It's not her fucking plans that're being ruined.

As you can see, this news is just the adding of the fuse on an entire day's worth of stockpiled gunpowder. If father-dearest continues to attempt conversation, he may very well be the fucking spark.

Well, rehearsals went well enough. Now watching some Six Feet Under (recorded since I couldn't watch it during the practice) and it's as enjoyable as ever.

Also raided Borders when I went there after rehearsal. Got: Christopher Rice's "Snow Garden" (whoo!), the 2nd Moulin Rouge CD (double whoo!), and... shock of the century... Maxim's fashion issue. I did not know that that barely-legal magazine had a decent fashion issue. Containing sexy McGregor as well.

Hehe... does anyone find the book that the mother was reading funny? "Now That You Know: A Guide for Parents with Gay and Lesbian Children" ... title-wise anyways. I think it's effing hilarious. ^_^

... ugh... I have to finish my damned group presentation tomorrow. Needless to say that this boy will be glad once we start painting again.

Half an hour spent outside sweeping all the crap off of the backyard pavement. I feel/ smell/ look/ taste like shit. And why did I do it? Because I couldn't stand all the shit.

Stupid pigeons.

Now I have to go to rehearsal after church for that damned passion play I'm in. I should have just stuck with the chorus. Now I have to memorize more lines, along with my poems for language fair.

Which is why I'm dreading all the AP classes I shall be taking in the next two years.

I have a feeling that I'll be a burn-out come my 40th birthday.

A maiden's policy. For the people who know me both in real life, online, or through some freaky, accidental revealing of our past lives, I'm really not as slutting as I seem to be. Most of the GLBT people I know put out after the first or second date... which is really sad. I figure that something like sexuality has to be savored, and putting off actual contact will help whet one's appetite. I enjoy the feeling of sensuality well enough, but as an exercise in discipline, I've decided never to kiss on the first date. No matter how much I like the guy.

And besides, if I can spend a date or two with him, stave off the kiss, enjoy his company, and if he understands/ accepts/ has the patience to wait, then that would be good.

My resolve is to never live life like all the guys in QaF. As much as I enjoy the series, I could never do that.

Another movie night? Yep. This time Count of Monte Cristo and bowling afterwards.

Eh... I'd mention details, but it is very very late... well, not really, but I'm tired none the less.

And Karen, we'll have to finish our conversation later.

RENT. Coming some time in April. Tickets? Fourth row, baby! Matinee?... yes....

And, as an attempt to try something other than HotorNot for amusement, I'm currently searching the profiles on xy.com. Es muy interesante.

Rockin' to GC.

Good luck and best wishes go out to all the people auditioning today for LVA next year!

Hm... Movie night at Matt's again? Fun time? Yes. Verily.

And fun with Mad Libs, mocking his brother (who gave me misleading info), playful Matt-bashing, Pastoral-inside-jokes, and pet-whores.

Definitely needed after my whole group presentation disaster.