Currently, for some odd reason, I'm considering a career as a portrait artist. Although it's not really odd when you think about it. My subject of choice is always human (clothing optional) and I'm always searching for some way to convey emotion through my work. What better way to do all that and get paid at the same time? Granted I'll have to deal with annoying client requests about minor details... but there's a definite market out there for those with a few thousand to spend.

Got my hands on American Artist's Portrait Highlights issue, and the figures as well as the numerous techniques discussed are all attractive. I don't plan on doing it indefinitely, mind you, but it'll be a great way to pay for college.

Just spent a good three or four hours working on a sketch of Tim, and the image produced was quite good. For a start, it looked like him. And it has that moment of sheer ecstacy he has during that one shot from the band's "Shining Light" video. But karma must be balance so, naturally, my scanner is incompetent and cannot register the more subtle shades of graphite. Grr.

Other than that, not much has happened.

. . . . . posted:||3:25 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Again, let us thank those who had the brilliant idea to put an Ash DVD in their new CD. Mainly because DVD's can be paused indefinitely.

Why is this important? Imagine me infront of my tv at 2am drawing what I see on TV. That's what I've been doing these past few nights.

Posted #1111 times. Shite.

. . . . . posted:||9:16 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Eh, I pity Paul's current parent situation. Hang in there!

Went to church today without grandma (she's currently with shingles and it's not a pretty sight, so she's staying at home) and got the Sicilian priest. Ech.

Afterwards, ate at the former Regeant. The new buffet (although definitely worth the $8 per person charge) isn't as grand or as formal as the old one. The location, instead of the quiet upper santium, is down by the shops where the former Swatch and Charlotte Russe resided. Hamada is still there, but now they have an ugly wall to corner themselves into the... erm, corner. At least Ceres is still there, but it functions more like a regular restaurant than the cafe it once was (read: no longer 24 hours).

Two of the workers at the buffet looked really nice. One was the floor manager (usual sexiness in a pretty face and dark, spikey hair) and one of the waiters (a blonde, spikey Irish-descended sexy boy).

Afterwards saw the new Austin Powers movie. Funny stuff (the opening scene alone is worth the price of the ticket, then factor in Brit Spears' dancers and the subtitle scene) but the movie quickly lost steam towards the end of the movie. Pity. The appearance of the Osbournes mid-movie was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Went to Borders and did much perusing. Blake was there at the music section with me and informed me that a fellow LVA student jumped off the observation deck of the Stratosphere and asked me if I've heard anything about it. Nope. Along with Jamie disappearing... no wonder all the teachers were urging everyone to have a safe summer.

Bought a magazine about portraiture (specifically for the egg-oil emulsion techniques for oil painting) and MetroSource. That magazine is amazing; basically a fusion of the Advocate and GQ, it's the magazine for the "cosmopolitan" gay man. Oh, and the fashion section has a sexy man playing piano and guitar. Mmph!

Then dinner at AppleBee's and home.

Today was definitely a day for running into people I know. Chris and Bri at the movies, Nicole riding with her dad in the lane next to us, Blake at Borders, and that deaf sophomore art-major (I don't remember his name) that perused the Gay/Lesbian mag rack next to me.

And right now uncle and aunt are visiting grandma and basically telling her to not stress herself out so that she can get over her shingles. Apparently all the (self-induced) stress is prolonging her illness. I told her not to bother with cooking or cleaning, but she doesn't listen. I doubt she even listened completely to aunt's advice.

Hmm... my sketchbook's finally getting some action.

. . . . . posted:||9:03 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Eh, behold my amazing adventures in baking.

Today, off of a whim, I felt like baking an apple pie. Everything was going rather well, but then I got to cutting the apples. First off, Fuji Apples are definitely not suited for cooking; they taste bland. Not to mention that some of the ones we had in the fridge were growing mold in the center.

To make matters better, I got a bit careless with the knife and ended up with a blade 1/8 of an inch into my thumb. First instinct: go to the downstairs bathroom and get a bandaid. There were no bandaids. Went upstairs to my bathroom. No bandaids. Went to the parent's bathroom.

One bandaid. One small bandaid. Luckily it managed to cover the cut... didn't stop some blood from getting on my shirt though. Ech.

The apple pie itself... sucked. Fuji apples do NOT go tender as fastly as tart apples, so the slices of fruit were still crunchy when I took it out of the oven.

But, despite the horrendous texture (the actual taste itself was passible) I made the pie crust perfectly, weaved-top and all. Whoo.

. . . . . posted:||1:48 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Oh my Jeebus the concert was effing amazing!

First, before going to the Joint we had to entertain some guests that came to visit. I got a lot of compliments and comments 'bout the drastic change, kicked my cousin's ass on DDR, and high-tailed it out of the house.

Stopped by Jack-In-The-Box (again) to pick up some sourdough chicken food to eat before the concert. On the drive downtown OLP was playing the Mixx Underground Lounge on the radio so we listened to that.

At the Hardrock, sis and I found Christy and Nicole in line already so we just sat down and talked for a bit. We also talked with these two girls who got to see OLP at the Underground Lounge and they're completely awesome. Not only are they big fans, but they also like Incubus, went to Warped Tour, etc. Then there was some craziness with spraying Binaca under tounges and we were let in.

So, the actual concert itself. The first band was Greenwheel and... well, frankly I doubt anyone in the crowd's heard of em. That's changed now. I was completely blown away by their music. The lead sing, despite looking like the Brady Bunch dad with plugs, was uber-sexy (Nicole and I were shouting thusly) and so were the other band members. He had one of those 1920's microphones and was constantly swinging it around and wrapping himself with the cord. Definitely gonna get some of their songs now.

Between sets there was... erm, really annoying soundcheck techies. They spent a good half hour making completely unnecessary adjustments to the sound system and succeeded in blowing out the audio for the lead mic so you couldn't really hear. Tch. This is why I prefer shows at the House of Blues.

The security guard infront of us was actually pretty nice. He let sis and I get away with numerous photos, head-banged to the music, and was a generally mellow guy. Not to mention that we talked a lil bit with him about music before the concert starts. Very cool.

Next up was Audiovent. Lemme just say that Jason not only looks like Jesus (and Christy and I screamed that as well) but he pulls off the facial hair better than his brother Brandon. Entertaining to see someone completely rock out with tight jeans and a Utah shirt. The bassist was completely playing the crowd and basically wanted all of us to scream out whenever he approached the edge of the stage. Very good show.

Before the headliners, people began to push towards the stage more. In other words, Christy was stuck with two really annoying guys behind her and urgently wanted to switch spots with me. Hmm... closer to center stage? Hell yeah!

Then....the spectacle Our Lady Peace gave. First off, major thanks to the light-designer for making use of those rotating light spots. Dramatic lighting (a la sunlight beams through clouds), strobes, and and wide range of colors.

The band itself was playing top-notch today. New guitarist Steve looked good sporting his all-black attire and sexy hair-over-the-eyes do. Raine himself wore black pants, a black collar shirt with one sleeve rolled up, and a gold and auburn tie. As the concert progressed he loosened his tie and the first three buttons of his shirt came undone.

Usual OLP flair with Raine half the time singing to his mic and the other half to the audience. They played all the crowd favorites from the older albums ("Starseed", "Superman's Dead", "4am", etc.) and more than once Raine turned the mic to face the crowd as everyone sang along. They also played a softer version of "Life" and it was completely amazing! I'm just happy that they played all of my favorites: "Life", "4am", "Are You Sad?", "Mafia", "Innocent", and "Clumsy". All the urgent screaming I did was exactly what I needed to release a lot of built up emotional turmoil, especially during "Innocent" and "Not Enough."

Total time: a two hour set plus a three song encore. Effing amazing!

Not to mention that Christy was very impressed. And it takes quite a lot to impress her when it comes to band performances.

Now's the time to recover (my throat's in dire need of some down-time) and... do stuff.

. . . . . posted:||11:27 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


"Gay by birth, Fabulous by choice!"

Hmm... I can smell the flames from here.

. . . . . posted:||2:23 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Moi? A bad influence? That's a first.

Apparently Matt's parents liken me to a banshee, an incubus, a harpy, and an Alexis.

I was torn between laughing it off and being genuinely offended by their remarks... and then I heard the Alexis part. Now I'm just offended.

Everyone in that family should have a healthy helping of Homicil (the drug for parents accepting their gay children; because it's your problem, not there's) (Saturday Night Live skits are the best!).

. . . . . posted:||2:17 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Well, yesterday was a bit exhausting for a wednesday on a summer day. The skies were cloudy with dark thunderstorms and humidity hailing from Arizona, so it wasn't only hot but stuffy as well.

Grandma had a doctor's appointment about some facial swelling thing, so the parents naturally decide to take the remaining four to eat lunch at the Paris. The food was good; at the buffet I had a poppy seed bagel with brie, smoked salmon, raw salmon, sauteed potatoes, penne in saffron sauce, warm apple cider, and tiramisu. A pity that we only stayed for lunch because I wanted to peruse some of the (few) shops.

There were an unusual amount of young (and cute) men that day... which means that they're here for the highschool basketball showcase. That also means that they've brought their cheerleaders, girlfriends, coaches, and (for most of them) an annoying attitude. Nice eye candy though.

Picked up the grandma, dropped her off at home, went to the mall, had my hair cut, and shopped. Mom decided that she wanted me to have a rehearsal back-to-school re-wardrobing so we headed over to JC Penny's. I actually found a lot of things that I would wear (all costing around $250 total) and discovered, much to my dismay/delight that I'm a size Medium going on Small. Freaky. Anyways, got a really nice black shirt with a golden-iridescent dragon on the front, several multi-colored pants and shorts, some button shirts, a black vest for a formal (read: almost any) occasion, and a new wallet.

I parted ways with the two females and headed over to Hot Topic slumping my JCPenny's bag over my shoulder. And if that wasn't enough to illicit odd glances, I bought a burgundy feather boa and (sis informs me later) girl belts in triple. Hn.

Afterwards went to Walden's and bought an encyclopedia about angel myth and lore, and a photo-book about kisses.

Met up with the two females later and went to Anchor Blue... where, much to my dismay, Matt shops often. How can we tell? They have his cologne, several of his rings, a few shirts, etc. I couldn't get at least three items because of that. Well... I didn't get much from there anyways, just two rings.

Then to Wherehouse Music to get the newest Ash CD featuring the uber-sexy bandmembers from the UK. Oddly enough, they all resemble other celebrities from some of the photos in the sleeve; Tim is the bastard child of Raine Maida and Chris from STD, Charlotte is a dead-ringer for Shirley Manson, Mark is a modern-day Jonathan Meyers a la Velvet Goldmine, and Rick is Elton John with a mohawk. Ash is definitely one of those rare bands that I'm captivated both audibly and visually at the exact same time. Can we say/sing "Burn Baby Burn?"

And how the hell did the Asians find out about them before we did?! 'Tis not fair! Oh, and there was a DVD with the CD containing much funny stuff, music videos, B-sides, and Tim running around the redroom with large butterfly wings strapped to his back. That's almost as mind-boggling as his bed scenes in "Angel Interceptor."

So, went home, ate some Jack-In-The-Box, watched the DVD, finished Amelie (again), and went to bed.

Today? I plan to prep up for tomorrow. It's effing Our Lady Peace! Whoo!

. . . . . posted:||1:56 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


...........HAVE FUN............

"skies are blue... the clouds are white..."

"... therefore I'm forever stuck in this karmic circle"

a new wardrobe filled with clothes that aren't ghetto-fab loose on me

some new clothes and a feather boa

undines and ifrits granted wishes again

people who don't misuse that word

bags that are painful to carry

my other black feather boa

nothing outside of logical reasoning

"... like a rat in a cage."


some decent RPGs for PS2

the TV playing scared straight

nothing (stuffed/ malfunctioning nose)

"... as I wander... across the crowded room..."

sure: vitamins, Advil, IBProfen, Tazorac

let's not discuss that.

naw, just lots and lots of fluffy pillows

and die in it at the same time

would that be an actual dream or something aspiration-esque

piano, some violin, guitar, koto, some cello, pan flute, etc.

now, if I told about my other side projects....




::looks in the mirror::

only the ones that I can make happen... and I can... make happen


yes, unless you piss me off

"...love is the adult version of Cinderella; just a fairytale."

not alcohol, but wines have excellent bouquets

not at the moment

it wouldn't be there in the first place if I didn't

I have self esteem, don't I?

::eyes the Hogwarts invite::

it gives Yuna something to do mid-battle in FFX

only to sing... and when forced to

does a sister count?

yes, if that ever happens


nothing permanent

who hasn't?

eh, it's too expensive.

not at the moment

"... stones to skip at St. Mary's Canal..."


Ewan McGregor has yet to call me back.

it's terrible

of course

only about myself

dear, they believe in me

::looks in the mirror::

"... nasty lil buggers...."

1. Full Name:
... ha, no

2. Nicknames:
Chuck, Chuckles, Chuckster, Chuckerific, Chuck-Chuck-bo-buck-banana-fana-bo-fu... etc.

3. Eyes:
black-brown eyes

4. Height:
5'7" ish

5. Hair:

6. Siblings:

7. What are you wearing right now?
white tee and black sweatpants (I'm casual at the moment)

8. Age:
16... in this body

9. Birthday:
Feb. 2

10. Sign:

Where do you live:
Las Vegas

12. Sex:

13. Righty or Lefty:

ON GIRLS (um, i think if your a girl you answer this
bout you, and if you
are a guy answer it about what you like on girls)

(screw that, I'm answering for guys)

27. Regular underwear or thong:
... boxers please.

28. Painted nails or not:
don't care; I like em

29. Bra or sports bra:
I'd be disturbed if a guy wore one...

30. Cute n' sexy or wild n' mysterious:
wild and mysterious? that's an oxymoron. try sexy and mysterious.

31. Dressy or casual:

32. Dark or blonde hair:

33. Long or short hair:

34. Dark or light eyes:
no preference

35. Long or short nails:
average, but well kept

36. Hat or no hat:
if they look good in it...

37. Good or bad girl:
no preference... but my parents would say....

38. Hair up or down:
down; I like to run my fingers through hair

39. Jewelry or none:
controlled accessorizing

41. Curly or straight hair:

42. Pants or dress:

44. Freckles or none:
unnoticable ones

45. Pretty indoor chick or party chick:
versatile stud

46. Accent or Canadian:
accent... but not welsh


Who have you known the longest?
um... sis?

any filipino I know

every-other theatre major

Karen, Emmelle, Vee


Makes you laugh?
everyone has their moments

Most athletic?
Claire, Lizzy, Taylor

Who can you tell most of your secrets to?
me, myself, and I. secrets are best kept thusly

Who do you usually go to about all of you problems?
Karen, Matt, or Lauren

. . . . . posted:||11:14 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Heheh... the room's still a mess. I think that grandma took one look at it and, for the first time since we've moved into the house, discovered chaos that she didn't want to meddle with.

Spent 90 minutes at Costo. Insane. Walked away with the DVD for Baby's Day Out, two pants that actually fit me completely (amen for 34in. waistlines), a book about the history, legacy and variety of martinis, assorted Webster's Dictionaries bound in red laquer, Amelie, assorted temporary hair coloring, and more 0.5 lead for the pencils.

Funny thing to note: going down one of the frozen foods aisle, dad made a big production about the harmful effects of margarine versus butter when mom considered an industrial sized tub of the lard. Afterwards, this raver guy turns to his girlfriend and says: "Maybe we should just get butter afterall."

The cashier lady was cracking jokes about the different hair coloring stuff, and I was nonplussed.

And when did Costco have those hand-dipped ice cream bars? They're absolutely delicious! Chocolate, Vanillia, or Chocolate sprinkled with chopped almonds. Yes, not peanuts but almonds. And french vanilla ice cream on the inside as well. The parents said that it would take at least ten minutes to finish the monstrosity (think back to the Motherload chocolate cake from Claim Jumper) but I was done with it in two minutes. Ha.
Sudden surge of Rufus Wainwright interest. I logged onto the website after several months and the message boards have remained quite active. Loved seeing how there were all sorts of people mingling, agreeing, and sometimes arguing because they all mutually adored Mr. Wainwright's music. There's one particular post thread that would interest a certain someone that I know.

A redesign is in order. Yes, but should it be something so dark or should I step into the sunshine for a little bit?

Oh, the choices. I should just make it look like Amelie with everything being red, green, and another color (usually yellow).

And thus, I ramble on.

. . . . . posted:||12:17 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Ech. My room's in shambles at the moment." Why?", that is your grace's part. I felt like cleaning out the unnecessary papers from several drawers, and that escalated into full-on drawer-emptying. So, I have an entire garbage bag full of stuff to trash (mainly assignment papers and broken headphones) and I'm not quite done yet.

It's also reached a point where I can't stuff all my books into my little bookcase. I'm thinking of clearing out all the videos I stash on my headboard shelves and putting some of my favorite/ scandalous books there.

Eh, learned too much about you, Matt. And, for once, I'm the only one not in an odd mood. Well, not the case now. Hardly anything's cheering me up at the moment. Dammit, he dragged me down into his general apathy.

Or not. I can still paint and escape all of this. Whoo. Trying to do an acrylic self-portrait from that really depressing photo of myself. I'm restricting the palette to yellow, orange, white, and purple... Sadly, I'm looking more like Phil than myself. Time to knock down the size of the eyes.

I could finish it tonight... but no. I still have a hundred or so pages left in Changer and I have the urge to finish it tonight.

Time to go heat up some water for coffee.

. . . . . posted:||11:15 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
...::screams:: Joey Fatone is going to play Mark from RENT?! That. Is. Not. Right. He's no where near as geeky as required. Now, if Lance did Mark... hell, I'd watch it plenty of times. But he's too busy trying to be the thir space tourist. I wonder what the other three members are doing now that the group's on a short break.

Could be worse, I guess. At least there's Tony Vincent in black eye-liner in We Will Rock You.

. . . . . posted:||1:44 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sis has a way with being right about a lot of things. Especially fashion. Well, except that she thinks me with a slept-in mohawk would be cute. And I can say that, as of this morning... erm, afternoon... that it is far from truth.

Spent a good three hours reading in bed, complete with tossing and turning and page turning and kicking the covers and changing the CD. Changer is proving to be a wonderfully written novel where Ms. Linjskold can create a rising action that draws you in and ebbs it down to keep you reading till the next exciting moment. Addictive, but bordering on tedious at times.

At some point we had one of my "aunts" over so I stayed in my room and continued reading. Later I came downstairs and asked grandma about who it was. Apparently she's one of my extended family's aunts come to confirm rumors of my successful weightloss. In the grand tradition of asians everywhere, my grandma proceeded to tell her everything about it including how I diet ("she always eats one meal or two meal a day with snacks in moderation with small bits and she do the exercising thing that they buy") and about how she's had to change her cooking habits and menus to suit my ever-changing health needs. Hmm, more like piling on the bullshit.

Today I plan to... finish Changer? I'm feeling quite stagnant and painting at the moment doesn't sound very appealing. Neither does practicing my piano, but sis is busy readying herself for her cello lessons so I don't have to worry about that... yet. I'd rather return to a time when playing piano came easily and effortlessly to me. Or at least when I was compelled to practice each day. Tch.

I think it has something to do with my general anti-productive creativity. No muse to jump-start my inspiration, nor a need for one.


Once again I sail through the Duldroms of summertime. At least I've been perusing this site and find great enjoyment in it (go Essex boy!).

. . . . . posted:||1:34 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


(written on a sheet of paper at 1:00am)

Shakespeare-Fest entry #2. The first one I began but couldn't finish since I could barely see anything on paper; I was relying on moonlight. Well, the TV's on now so I can just barely see what I've written.

The entire trip was, um... worthwhile? That's too strong of a word. It seemed as if we took extraordinary measures just to witness a lack-luster performance, but I'll elaborate later.

Two and a half hour drive in the van. Luckily grandma sat with uncle in his jeep so we didn't have to endure her. I mainly listened to my CD's (go STP!) and sketched out some events/costumes for my imaginary rock-god. Velvet Goldmin, anyone? Dad must've been weary from all the driving since he missed the entrance to our hotel not one, but twice.

Quick costume change into our more formal attire was in order, but the maid hadn't finished with our room yet. So I stood against the wall, sis paced and bounced about, dad walked around the grounds, and mom complained about her empty stomach.

(quick note: right now it's 1:00am, everyone's snoring, and I'm watching an aria by Wagner performed with English and Japanese subtitles)

I changed into my common black-everything-except-maroon-shirt outfit for the "Royale Feaste" being held in a banquet tent by one of the theaters. The interior was decorated to resemble Sherwood Forest and the hideout of Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Believable it was not, but the actors did much to distract one from that fact. Interesting dinner show; farm more interactive and entertaining han the King's Tourney at Excalibur. Ironically enough, the actors resembled friends back at LVA:

Robin Hood: Stan, but far sexier with better legs
Little John: Taylor
William Wallace (?): Nick
Friar Tuck: Will + 100 lbs.
Red Riding (Robin's little sis): Nikki
Sheriff: Tyler
Prince John: Kellan
Maid Marian: Alexa
her Nurse: Claire (boy-chasing, bellying dancing, and all)

The food was actually quite good: grapes and apples with cheese curd, a tastey salad, thick cheese/lentil soup, honey-roasted game ontop of rice pilaf with rosemary, potatoes, cranberries, finshed with breadpudding and a sprig of mint. I put that lil bit into my tac of apple cider.

In between the dinner and the play, sis and I went down to the green stage to be entertained during our hour wait. Many of the performers from dinner were again performing. This time we witnessed (and tried desperately to understand) a Highland drama. Aside from the stage actors, many others were roaming the grounds completely in character. There was a boy constantly being chased by a girl, two men drunk off their tights that tended to get into stick fights, etc. Also, we saw a bagpiper playing while little kids joined in a boulder throwing game.

One of the more entertaining parts were the numerous characters with baskets coming around trying to get you to buy their wares. A particular redhead by sis and I was very cynical about her work:

Her: (in a scottish accent) What are you doing over there? Hiding?
Man: Naw, just being a humbug.
Her: Ah... a tart?
Man: Not unless you have any humbug tarts.
Her: Well, I have apple tarts and cinnamon tarts, but no humbug tarts.
Man: No thanks then.
Her: I guess we can't be friends then if you won't buy a tart. ::walks off::

Later on...

Her: Tarts?
Boy: No thanks.
Her: So, are you two brothers?
Boy: No--
Friend: But we get that a lot.
Her: Ah. Friends then?
Friend: Well... ::grabs his hand::
Her: .... I see... ::goes off::

The boy mentioned before was another point of great interest. Since this is Utah, there was a severe abundance of beautiful boys and men. A pity that most of them are Mormon, overtly preppy, or both. Still, nothing like a good dosage of eyecandy. Two of them stood out the most.

One of them sis and I followed throughout the green stage area. He was gorgeous; natural blonde highlights, a cute yellow-striped shirt, and an intoxicating cologne. Most unusual of all was that he looked like many of my different drawings. Hn.

The otherone (who had that incident with the tart lady) was basically a clone of me except that he's white, at least 6 ft. tall, and sans the black tie. Overall a sexy, elongated, and slim figure. A pity that he's taken.

To my disappointment there was no booth selling merchandise a la Ren-Fest, but there was a thoroughly stocked gift shop. I was tempted to get many things (namely a rapier with beautiful acid etchings) but I figured that impulse buying right now would be a bit risky. Besides, how could I explain walking into the theater carrying a sword? Sis caught my attention when she described an ornate "C" stamp. I thought it was one for sealing letters with wax, but it was only a common ink stamp. Tch.

The other gift shop inside the theater lobby was not as well stocked as the other. There was hardly anything worth noting besides stationary (but everyone knows that I already have too much of that) and some cute, Normal Rockwell-decorated umbrellas. Back a bit more was a concession stand with the only other blatanly flaming boy (besides the two by the green stage) working behind the counter. Oh, and there were paintings on the walls, but sis and I couldn't stand how outlined the figures were in each one. Granted, the piece with the Victorian lace was done well.

"Man of La Mancha" was the show of the night... and it was quite a waste. Not really horrendous, but nothing outstanding as well. Cervantes/Don Quixote was well acted, Aldonsa couldn't hit her high notes without switching register, everyone at some point mumbled too softly, and the tilted stage was completely disorienting. Props to the lighting crew and set designers though.

We should have watched Othello (which was actually being held at a replica of the Globe Theater) but uncle changed the tickets because grandma was with us and she wouldn't have been able to understand Elizabethan English. Hell, she can hardly understand the English I speak.

Came home disappointed, I worked on a few more sketches a la Ramses the Damned, watched Robin Williams' performance on HBO, and tried to get some sleep from the chair I was seated at by the table. I'm not sleeping near sis since she'll probably kick, hit, or scratch me.

And now, here I am catching only 15 minute intervals of sleep at a time. Ech.

. . . . . posted:||2:58 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


... okay, major coincidence. Just as I was about to go ahead and type out something, on comes "Underneath Your Clothes" again. I love that song with a passion... okay, only late at night but regardless, a good song. Lyrics aren't completely flowing, but that's to be expected from a native-spanish speaker such as Shakira. And she was so much better a la "Estoy Aqui" with the red and black hair before they turned her into Brit Spears. She hasn't changed, and I'm thankful for that, but now there are even more idiotic people along with the worthwhile ones listening to her music. It's almost insulting.

Shakespeare Fest is tomorrow, but I have a movie night at Karen's to go to first.

Early tomorrow morning we're packing our Odyssey to it's intended max capacity (seven people not including possible space inbetween seats, onto of people, and inside the trunk) and it's a 3-4 hour drive to Cedar City, Utah. A pity that we're not sticking around too long for Sunday since I know that seeing my catholic filipino grandma go into a mormon church would be surpassingly entertaining. Apparently there's a little Ren-Fest infront of the stages so I intend to either get a nice sword, knife, rapier, anything sharp and shiny or some genuine feather quills. $300+ to spend plus more now that my paycheck's here. Whoo.

Much Music's airing DC's Tokyo Fest Highlights later, so I shall definitely be watching that.

Our Lady Peace in just one week. Am I excited? Hell yes. As much as I adore their new album and direction, Spiritual Machines will always be my favorite OLP album. It's quite an emotional ride (think Moulin Rouge or any Bollywood film) with songs that are as uplifting as Creed songs (minus the pretentiousness) only to be followed by bruising ballads of self-depreciation. And tapered off with a soothing, make-up-sex variety "I'm sorry" melody.

Yep, I'm definitely one of those people who want background music to always be played in the room. Amen.

Or... not.

. . . . . posted:||4:00 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Erm... pay no attention to the guy solo-waltzing to Shakira's "Underneath Your Clothes" in his family room. ::glances sideways::

Today, for some odd and severely deranged reason, I had the sudden urge to break out the ink well and practice my pen and ink techniques. Subject: miscellaneous photos. I tried doing my violin but... eh, could never stand straight lines that long. Now I know why I like painting much better. Don't get me wrong, I love the immediate results of inking. Still... while exherting the greatest amount of control on one's pen to create the perfect curve and width of a contour, it's a bad idea to do so in a room full of distractions. Mainly grandma talking loudly on the phone with someone about the "lack of information" status her papers have. Oh, and sis chiming in every five minutes to update me on the cool videos I was missing on the TV. Which really isn't necessary since I was sitting infront of it the entire time.

Eh, only two pieces turned out well. One is of this cute couple I took a photo of during Warped Tour, and another one is a painstakingly stippled pic of Matt with his Linkin Park beanie on. The latter I had to redo several times because of said distractions.

At least with paint you can always cover up your mistakes with more paint.

During the family viewing of American Idol tonight:

Me: Okay, bathroom break. Wait... pop, did you use that one last?
Pop: Yes.
Me: Upstairs bathroom it is then!
Pop: Nice one, son.
Sis: Yeesh, looks like you're learning from Simon.
Me: ... I've always been like this.
Sis: Oh... right. Then Simon's learning from you?

And today I was suppose to go down to the DMV to get my permit renewed before I try for my license... Supposedly we're doing it next week because the parents want to go out bowling today. Blech.

I think I'll stay home and paint.

. . . . . posted:||3:29 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Just finished a wonderful movie on HBO. Yeah, I know it's a tad bit on the late side. But hey, it's worth it to see Dani and Nico again. I should've recorded it, but I tuned in a few minutes into it. Oh well, that's what DVD's are for.

"What was going on here last night? An orgy?"
"No, macaroni."

This one's definitely going on the higher portion of my favorite movies list. 'Twas definitely a coming-of-age movie that I can relate to. Specifically to Dani. Alright, so I'm not fluent at Espanol nor am I of Spanish/Scottish decent, but emotions remain more or less the same. Most of the actions that Dani took I myself would've taken, and I completely sympathized with him about his... erm, problems. If I had half the valour that he had.

Can't get too specific here about it, so if you're curious watch the movie sometime. Or read the synopsis.

And I feel sorry for Nico. Throughout the entire movie he was more or less used for sex by two people. The difference? One had genuine affection for him while the other was just using him until her boyfriend got back from the military. Then in the end it's the affectionate one that Nico can never be completely with.

. . .

Reminds me of something that had been looming over my head for almost a year now. About half a year backwards I thought about it everyday, but now it only comes to me on rare occasions. And now I feel like mentioning a bit of it. Specifics are still a no, however.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had said yes to that one question. It surely would have changed everything. Back then, I still wore bright colors before resorting to my now basic blacks and other muted tones. Back before my dad considered giving me some Paxil or other anti-depressant pills.

Maybe I would be happy now if I had just said yes. My sketchbook might not be filled with repeating images of naked and/or gorged flesh then. Or better yet, my sketchbooks might be filled.

Or maybe I might not even be breathing at this moment. Surge of emotion, fit of jealousy, or some other form of quarrel. Oh the many changes that might have happened if I had the gusto to go ahead with it.

Afterall, back then he was still innocent. More or less. Not anymore. I was always far from chaste. I might have been more proud of it, but I said no instead.

Well, back then I didn't know any better. Not about him, anyways. And I would always hate it if I was ever blocked from his buddylist (actually, that's kinda happening right now... except instead we're both reluctant to call the other).

He's probably forgotten about the entire incident already. I almost had until I saw that movie tonight. And, I guess, time has proven my choices correct. But I still can't help asking "what if?"

Funny how stories are the perfect things to jog one's memory.

. . . . . posted:||2:13 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Oh a funny note, Andy's segment about Coco the fem-asian waiter and his boyfriend going into a filipino rage is just completely hilarious. ::applause::

. . . . . posted:||9:54 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
So, hello. How're things?

Haven't quite gotten the urge to spend too much time on the computer; I've been constantly occupied with either FFX or sleep. Sometimes one would encrouch on the other. Specifically during long cut-scenes where I can't bypass the dialogue.

Things have settled down. That much is good.

Just finished watching Gosford Park. Great movie, but subtitles are definitely called for. Not so much the different accents, but the names and gossip inbetween the characters is at times overwhelming. Ryan Phillippe with an accent was an added bonus.

Tickets to the Our Lady Peace concert next friday are now secure. $25 later, that is. And it's still a bit upsetting that I won't be able to go to their performance at the Mixx Underground Lounge since I'm not 21 and I'd still have to compete with others on the phone for one of the 25 seats. Tch.

No piano lessons this week, followed by the Shakespearian Festival this weekend. Things are looking up a bit.

. . . . . posted:||9:40 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


When weaving your life with threads spun from lies, one either must cut away the entangling and offending strands or wrap themselves within it's shroud.

I hate to be melodramatic, but I'm learning exactly how true it is.
Because it's true; secrets and lies and make-believe realities have been the only things that have let me survive thus far.

Just like any other person out there. Regardless of how typical my situation is, the realization still hurts.

And emotional breakdowns before going to bed never result in a good night's rest.

. . . . . posted:||2:15 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It always seems that whenever I try to dress up for an occasion, the said event always ends up being some sort of disappointment.

I decided to go "Brit Posh-Punk" as sis called it. On went the white shirt I got from her, a black tie, black pants with black socks and shoes, black nailpolish, that bracelet that looks like my necklace, and eyeliner. I wanted Egyptian-esque outlining but sis said that it looked horrible on my small asian eyes. Poo.

The whole entire night started off pretty well. Sis and I were the last ones to arrive so when we got there Matt, Karen, Sarah, Christy, Jaron, and Nicole were already waiting out in front of the Cheesecake Factory. Don't really want to go too much into detail about the actual dinner itself (unless you want to read a lengthy report) so I'll just say that we harassed another waiter (who, at 20-something, had a kid to take care of), made Jaron do the whole Stuart thing, had Matt open the presents... and, ironically enough, he wasn't getting much attention during the dinner. I tried constantly to initiate a conversation, but sis or Christy would always draw my attention away. Likewise, Sarah and Jaron occasionally kept the birthday boy occupied.

After dinner a stop over at Virgin Megastore to peruse the books, music, and dvds.

The night turned sour when Sarah wanted everyone to head over to FAO Schwartz so we could frolick all three stories of toyland fun. Karen and Matt, off of a whim, decided to dodge the group for a bit so that she could buy something to cover herself up at Emporio Armani (she had accidently sat on some of sis' powder-cake after it fell onto the floor). I was the first in the group to realize that the two were gone, so I opted to go look for them.

Well... let's just say that mistakes and misunderstandings were made. By almost everyone.

But, in retrospect, I made the biggest mistake of all: I didn't simmer down and forgive Karen and Matt for worrying me so. Instead I let the irritation and frustration I had trying to find them fester into something ugly that, ultimately, put a damper on the entire night.

I want to apologize profusely for that. I was such an unforgiving ass.

And, in the grand tradition of past transgressions, I put the brunt of the blame on Matt. Even though Karen confessed that she was more at fault, I still let my claws go wild on the poor boy. It was his birthday outing as well.

Just one of my defense mechanisms. I keep on forgetting almost all the reasons for avoiding social interaction with the boy until I'm actually physically there with him.

Yes, I could say that the insane and often immature decisions he makes irritates me, but I make too much of a big deal about it.

Yes, I could say that his ego (bordering on megalomaniac) and stubborness make him difficult to deal with, but I'm able to handle those traits in others.

Yes, I could say that he's the center of much of my life's current drama, but any person can fill that role.

The truth is, I don't want to risk another relapse. There, I finally said it.

There's a reason for my recent disillusionment with concepts of romantic and adult love as well as my lack of serious attraction to other people. I've been trying to desensitize and numb the damned organ beating in my chest.

Because, like many who meet Matt, if I'm not careful I could fall for him again. But that just goes to show that I never got over him completely.

Which is really quite strange; it's a sense of attraction more or less founded on adoration and an instinct to level out the choices and pick the most sensible one... yet I know so many of his faults that I find unforgivable or at least so redundant that they become annoying to ever let myself...

Damned language. It's nothing more than a barrier between minds which we shape and mold to show others what we mean. And right now it's prohibiting me from describing my thoughts.

But yes, everyone. I am steeped in deepest regret.

... This is why I shy away from human interaction. There really is only one person who can adapt to my mood swings effectively and that's sis... but only because she's had 16 years to get used to them. Everyone else... they're not so flexible of my actions.

But speaking to others is only asking for drama. I've had enough drama brewing in my head from the past six months that I want nothing more of this aspect of living. I want calm waters to relax in, friends I can confide in utterly without worrying about their opinions, and anything else to escape the tossing and churning that goes on in my head.

People + Interaction = Drama

I can't have that. I can't...

.... shit...

. . . . . posted:||2:09 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Blame Karen for these:

I'm an Elf! go to:the quiz!

I'm Stalin! go to:the quiz!

I'm Thoth! go to:the quiz!
In other news, it seems like something electrifying is in the air tonight.

After piano lessons (really really mediocre; I don't think I'll be adding five new songs to my repetoire anytime soon) the family decided to go to Borders for stuff. Perfect opportunity to grab a birthday gift. And, strangely enough, matching bag and paper to go with the book. Great card too. But I digress.

I got bored just waiting around for people to finish up magazine articles and whatnot so I went outside by the coffee tables at the neighboring Starbucks. This guy was sitting at a table full of his friends plucking Beatles songs on his guitar. He was singing along softly and, by the lack of attention from his friends, wasn't heard much at all. I on the other hand was mouthing the words back. He noticed at some point and smiled. I smiled back.

Came home to some nice Jamie Oliver on the tv followed by the gift-wrapping ceremony. With sis doing the final touches I felt a need to distract myself. So... up goes the ladder against the side of the house and I camped out on the roof for a bit, staring at what few stars were out.

And now, a few minutes ago, I just finished reading an amazing entry 'bout Brittany's amazing kiss over at Roma while Placebo played on the computer. "My Sweet Prince" no less.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Eros has been making his rounds.

Gimme gimme, that thing called love... I'll brave it!
Fly dove, sing sparrow! Give me cupid's famous arrow!
Gimme gimme that thing call love!

But romance is fine and real. Love, on the other hand... well, we all know my position on that.

In other news, I'm completely decked out in glam-rock style... or I was up till an hour ago. I was rummaging through miscellany trying to find items suitable for the annual Halloween get-up, when I had the urge to try for the Velvet Goldmine look. Quite coincidentally, when I went downstairs and turned on the computer, the first song to play was "20th Century Boy" by the ever graceful Placebo.

There's something about that riff that keeps me moving. So anyways, glitter make up and eyeliner, fuscia lipstick, black nailpolish, normal black hair, black pants, black pleather jacket with purple stitching, and an electric guitar in hand... still debating whether it was a scary sight or not, but it felt great to feel like a rocker for a little bit.

Another sad thing to note: the pleather jacket is the sister's. I fit into her clothes. And half of them look better than most of the stuff in my closet because they aren't horridly loose on me. If it weren't for the female cuts and designs... I'd actually wear them. Pity.

Only three more days of work left. I'll be glad to leave the office environment as soon as possible, and it's great that I get about $600 from the deal. They might possibly want sis and I to come back later in the summer to file some more stuff if we're needed, but other than that... free reign in the morning.

Too bad that I'm a night owl.

Oh, and no hangover this morning. Just some severe sleeping-in followed by a five-minute shower and two-minute dressing before work.

Tomorrow promises to be interesting.

. . . . . posted:||12:51 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


I'm guessing the realization hit sometime between the first verse and chorus of Incubus' "Are You In?"

It's just about 4am in the morning. I have work at 9am. Then piano at 6pm. I have yet to practice (per usual).

Oh, did I mention that before I came down here I spent about three hours in my room painting the Zeus and Ganymede myth over and over again? I didn't? Well, I did. Eventually made five or so different paintings... but I doubt they look better when devoid of candlelight.

I like the 50+ candles in my room. Grandma doesn't seem to agree; she's always coughing whenever I have one on. And I had twenty or so burning brightly to finish... erm, whatever it was that I was working on. Italian Renaissance music played softly on my stereo.

After finishing the paintings I started reading up on Carravagio while sipping half a bottle of cianti. On second thought, drinking on a weekday isn't such a good idea, is it? Well, no hang over yet... hopefully.

Anyways, where was I? Oh, that's right.

I came to the realization (and it's a sad one too) that we may never be as close as we used to be, and I'm not bothered by it one bit. That'll provide many ackward moments tomorrow at the Cheesecake Factory, but atleast I have a lot of friends to hide behind.

The reason why? Plain and simple: my goal for the rest of the year is to eliminate most of the drama in my life. I'm a thoroughly adjusted person (unless you take off the restraints on my omnipotent powers) who get's thrown into emotional train-wrecks by the people around me. Just a little observation I noticed over the school year.

So, I figure that I should distance myself from the one person with the most potential to start up some drama. Even he himself has professed to causing drama when things get too quiet.

But I like quiet. Conflicts bred of boredom are more often than not an attempt at asserting oneself as mature. I don't believe that; I know that I am mature. I don't need situations to reaffirm that fact.

... Sometimes I wish I was a mind-reader. Life would be a bit easier/ more interesting that way.

. . . . . posted:||3:50 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh my lord in heaven/ hell/ nirvana/ etc. If I have to frequent the downtown casino area as much as I have been in the past two months compared to the past year... well, I'll have to take up residence somewhere down there.

Guess where Matt's having his "big" 16th Birthday bash? Yep, the Forum Shoppes. Yep, Cheesecake Factory. Yep, he says not to buy him any gifts and later adds that he's only saying that to be polite.

I'm tempted to either tell him to bugger off with no gift whatsoever besides a nicely calligraphed card, or let him have his way and pay for one item at the mall that he wants. Hopefully he won't be eyeing that $40 Victorian writing set or that $200 Harlequinn mask.

Don't as me why, but recently I've been playing FFX again... and again... and again. Sheer boredom? You could say that. I prefer using the game to avoid making any other accomplishments (namely practicing instruments, playing DDR, or working on that damned painting). Currently going through the first half of the game with hour-long breaks for a game of Blitzball. Who would've imagined that a maester would wait for you to finish a game before setting off to destroy the world. Ahem... anyways, the subtitles have been turned off as well as the map so the game is even more cinematic than before. A pity that the lip-sync program is only correct half of the time.

Come to think of it... the storylines for every single new RPG out there are getting increasingly unusual. FFX delves into the dismissal of false hopes in order to truly live (go Hermann Hesse!) while distorting the time/space continuum to give the true hope a physical body. Even the old historian who tells you everything you ever wanted to know about the story in the end still can't explain the procession of events clearly.

Then there's FF8 with even more time-travel hi-jynx and astral projections, FFTactics with it's completely confusing (yet thoroughly enjoyable) political and social intrigue in a medieval setting, Wild Arms 2 with the notion that a "hero" is merely a sacrfice of one to save many. We'll not even discuss Xenogears with it's numerous references to Darwin, Catholic Dogma, Wave-Existances, Jungian/Freudian psychology, Kabbalah, incarnation, creation, the Alpha Omega, and pink fluffy bunnies that can grow to sky-scraper height.

A thing to note about most stories/ shows/ movies/ etc. coming out of Japan in the recent years: each one has a gratuitous "moral of the story" moment. Every single anime (specifically the movies) have a moment in the end when one, two, or all of the characters start preaching the gospel according to their creator at you. The Utena movie, up till then an amazing exercise in psychosis, sensuality, and visual metaphors, lost much of it's dramatic climax when the two protagonists are zooming away on their motorcycle with a voice-over of their thoughts playing in the back.

Hell, even Battle Royale (a movie depicting 15-16 yr. olds killing eachother in almost every way imaginable with the allowed weapons) has that same voice-over ending that produces a sour anti-climax.

... I'll stop there before I get too ahead of myself.

Meanwhile, here's to hoping that my computer won't act like a complete git the next time I log on. Lately I've had little to no internet access.

Cable modem = superspeed my ass.

. . . . . posted:||3:25 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Erm... hi.

One would figure that I'd be enjoying all the busy time I've been having these past two days... well, I'm not.

Today was suppose to be a day of rest after the whole Warped Tour experience; bruises and scratches aside, I had to worry about the mass of debris in my lungs preventing me from breathing well. But mom's sister-in-law came in from Canada for a conference and we had to go treat her and a couple of her friends out onto the town.

Just... one slight problem. That's the five of us family, plus the in-law and the three friends she's packing. Sis and I opted to just go shopping in the Forum for a few good hours while they dined at the Top of the World on the Stratosphere.

Now, shopping at the Forum was right up my alley at that moment. I still had to buy Matt's birthday gift, and what better place to get one than at these hihg-end shoppes? There were plenty of things to be given at the Museum Company but either I had already given something like it, it would be something left completely untouched, or it was too pricey. This is Matt, afterall. He gives the worst gifts despite the wealth he amasses.

First order of business was eating lunch. Expensive eateries throughout the mall were ruled out since we only had so much money to spend, so we ended up eating at Virgin Megastore Cafe. The guy serving us was rather-on-the-extremely-cute side so my day began to get better. After getting my poppyseed bagel and green jasmine iced-tea, he asked me where I worked in the mall. I was mute for a second or two before telling him that I didn't work in the mall. He nodded and gave me an appraising look before going about his duties.

I can understand why he thought that. Today I had been wearing a black polo-shirt with khakis, my Swatch, black nail polish, and some nice black dress shoes (I dressed to dine elsewhere before plans were changed). I tried dragging sis into one of the more posh stores like Emporio Armani or Gucci just so that we could act like snobs with money, but she didn't wear anything remotely resembling designer wear... unless you're thinking Anne Sui.

Spoils from the Forum are: the CD "Morimur" (a dissection of the encoded meanings in the violin solos written by Bach to mourn the death of his wife), a necklace and a bracelet. Funny thing about the last two items... I got them at the Endangered Species store. The same store that sold the same necklace to a former boyfriend a few years ago. I just happened to be browsing the necklace selection when I realized that the designs I saw before me were exactly the same. So, now I have a small bracelet version of the necklace as well as an alternate necklace with ruby-red beads instead of black ones.

After the parents met up with sis and I again (and we greeted our guests) we learned that two of the guests backed out at the last moment. So there was enough room now for all seven of us to fit into the van... but the parents (and guests) wanted to watch a dinner show. I wasn't up to it, and neither was sis.

We got dropped off at the Venetian. Spent most of the time going through the Canal Shoppes listening to the performers play (namely this violin, flute, and accordian trio) and still searching for a suitable gift for Matt.

But before departing to the shoppes we went over to the Guggenheim Heritage Museum to look at the collection. The man behind the ticket counter was extremely cute so I was acting like a complete idiot. ("That will be $16" "Okay, here... wait, that's a twenty." "But it's still $16. This is a $10." "Oh! I'm sorry, not having a very good day today." "Eh, neither am I.") The collection of modern painters they had was... not to my taste. I tend more towards photo-realism and baroque chiaroscuro; the paintings exhibited were mainly impressionist, bordering on abstract. I enjoyed the quite solitude though.

The masque shoppe was still quite expensive, so I didn't get to buy anything from there. However, I was very tempted to buy some Venetian stationary complete with a wax seal... but that's going a bit overly-romantic. Then I contemplated it as a possible gift... before I realized that he'd never use it.

One of the performers was a man who sang italian arias while accompanying himself on his accordian. While sis and I watched him, there were these two guys cuddling up next to eachother. One had the camera out and filming while the other had his arm wrapped around his. It would've been a cute sight if both hadn't decided to wear extremely short shorts and unbuttoned their shirts one button past the acceptable norm.

At some point we witnessed this newly wed couple board the white and gold gondola with much applause from the people surrounding. Then, at the mid-section of the canals, they passed by another pair of newly-weds riding one of the regular gondolas. I thought it was funny.

Then there was this uber-cute guy working the counter of this golf apparel shop. We came in with the hope of finally finding a suitable gift, but instead we found ourselves gawking at this man for a good five minutes. He was Michael Weatherly incarnate... although not quite the status of Fallen Angel, but still pretty up there. Half of the time he seemed bored and sis got into too much eye contact with him for her own good.

We eventually met up with the elders, had a bite to eat at this Asian restaurant place, dropped off the guests, went to Walgreens where dad used his connections (read: patients) to open up the photo-department and get our prints out of Warped Tour, and now I am home.

I'm exhausted, tired, in need of a good face washing, and I still haven't gotten a present yet.

. . . . . posted:||1:38 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(originally posted saturday, the 6th)

Ah, so much to tell. So much to tell. Warped Tour 2002 at Vegas was far better than last year's attempt, but don't expect me to give you a blow-by-blow account. We were there for abour 9 hours. So, a few highlights:

While in line to get in, the Buddhist monks from Iowa came round again passing out books and asking for donation like last year. We got a book each, I was insulted by the ways that they depicted me (Buddha), sis ripped out the colored pics from the middle, and Christy pocketed hers to throw on one of the stages later. I took the two unused copies and placed them respectfully in the nape of a nearby tree.

At the GlassJaw booth, Christy spotted one of the band members working the merchandise and squealed. Also, the lead singer of the band playing at the nearby stage looked like a blonde Tyler.

While watching The Starting Line, the lead singer not only got some... erm, white substance smeared on his face from a flying cup, but his pants and boxers were threatening to fall off at any moment. We, being near the front, got plenty of ass-crack.

Before Finch started, I was getting extremely dizzy from the lack of food I consumed and reached for a PowerBar in sis' backpack before everything suddenly got blotchy. The next few moments aren't so clear; I remember suddenly finding myself on the ground looking at someone's shoe, then briskly exiting the crowd with my PowerBar in hand. After a few minutes sitting on the grass and filling up my stomach, the sparks of color finally subsided and I was dizzy no more. In the middle of the first song I was up and trying to get to the front again.

Good Charlotte was completely rough. Like Christy says, the worst crowds are the ones for the most unlikely bands. Last year it was New Found Glory. Anyways, I now know what it feels like to be a sardine packed into a can. The worst part was the grass beneath us. During the first concerts the grass was still alive, but the gradually increasing crowds quickly killed off the plants. It's a desert afterall. So, with the constant jumping from the crowd, the mass of body heat, the cruel syrocco-esque winds, and the cloud of dirt, dust, and grass flying everywhere... it was hard to breathe. Well worth the pain though.

Speaking of winds, the tents used at the tour weren't made for Vegas' windy tendencies. Half of the Drive Thru Records tent fell first, and several hours later the wind picked up. That sent many tents flying (I think I got a rather interesting shot of the Bob Marley/Weed tent fifteen feet in the air). Boys from Something Corporate (namely a half-nude Josh) worked to salvage both their tent and Good Charlotte's to little effect.

Now for the moment of the evening. Something Corporate, the single reason why I came. And damn it was well worth it. To get to the front I had to stick around for the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and their legions of fans blowing smoke into my face. Afterwards, LeadWagon. Really talented group; the lead singer not only can sing/scream, but has an awesome electric-blue and white lightning hair-do and enjoys harassing the security guards.

(And a side note about the guards, there was one that was actually cute, shock, and he was completely flaming. How could I tell? He was watching the band more than doing his job.)

As soon as they were done the guy infront of me (who happened to be a purple-topped Ray from school) left and gave me his spot in the front. Dead center. Yes! I was sandwiched next to this awesome SC fan with whom I discussed the many bang-able attributes of 60% of the group and a really short japanese/chinese girl who strangely had a japanese accent but couldn't understand a single word in her native tongue. Hn.

So, sign that you're obsessed with a particular band: you take half your shots of em while they're tuning up. The way I saw it, it's easier to just get your shots over with so you could enjoy the entire experience. Uh, big mistake on my part. Yes, I got plenty of yummy pics of the almost-completely shirtless band (Andrew wouldn't take his off because he got sunburnt). None of Josh and the bassist resting their heads in eachother's shoulders while playing. None of Andrew sitting atop his piano or playing it with his feet. And, the worst part, I didn't get a pic of him when his crotch was in my face.

Yes, I had Something Corporate in my face almost completely. Like other singers before him, Andrew likes to jump from the stage and sing to the crowd from behind the barracades. And the most logical destination to start that is the center. In front of me.

As soon as Andrew came down someone pushed my head into his abdomen/crotch. My first thought was "oh shite" followed by a "what the hell?!" as I felt his hand pushing my head harder against his stomach. Apparently my head made him lose his balance a bit and he had to regain it by pulling himself up using my head. Hell, I'm not complaining. Not one bit.

::smiles the same smile he's had on for the past couple of hours::

THAT made my evening. A pity that he shies away from his guy-groupies (the wedding band on his hand being a big indication) otherwise it would've been very interesting.

He invited the SC fan next to me to hang out with the band afterwards though. I felt a bit left out... but fuck it! I had sexy-man abs in my face for a good five seconds. Now... if he had his shirt off... I doubt that I'd be able to control myself...

Oh the possiblities.

Well, I'm tired, sore, dizzy, and have absolutely no feeling on my right foot's smallest toe. G'night.

. . . . . posted:||1:03 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(originally posted on friday, the 5th)

It's a few hours after the Fourth of July. Did I celebrate much? Not really.

Off of a whim, the parents decide to have a family BBQ party at my uncle's place. Only problem is is that the only person left in the house is Joe. Aunt and Uncle left (with the dogs) the house for the weekend to vacation... somewhere up north. Joe, on the other hand, is working from 5pm to 1am at Hollywood video.

In otherwords, dad wants to go so he can use uncle's coveted grill. Sis and mom want to go to swim around in the pool for a while. Joined them as well, but you can only do so much in a 5.5ft deep pool for an hour. Anything longer and I got completely bored so I had to get out, dry off, and occupy my time with other things to do.

Now, holidays like Independence Day are really trying times for use vegetarians. There's nice, juicy fillets being grilled and you can almost taste the mesquite-smoked chicken as well. So, I strayed from my month-long diet change and had meat. Big mistake. Several hours later (around an hour ago or so) I woke up to a very upset stomach and a severe sense of sickness. No vomiting, but even now I'm not feeling too keen. Time to keep away from the meats for a bit.

Wednesday I got my first paycheck. The parents wanted to take a picture of sis and I holding our checks, then scan the checks onto the computer and print/frame a copy. I said no. Sis said that she'd rather paint it. Anyways, I'm happy with the money I'm making... albeit most of the money I'm storing up for (a) a rainy day (b) post-school trips/madness or (c) tuition to Stanford/Berkeley. It's been a while since I've gone on a serious shopping binge (or any matter of shopping at all) so I wouldn't know what to do with a surplus of a couple hundred. Thousands, on the other hand, I know how to spend quite well.

Finally started painting again. It's turning out like shite (damned oil paint) since I'm kinda improvising the bodily proportions, but sis still thinks that it looks good. I have yet to decide what I want to paint on the remaining four canvases I have left over, let alone the three wooden boxes I could potentially woodburn.

But I got a severely nasty blister with the burning pen the last time I tried using it... damn, that was not pleasant. Almost three weeks later and now it's finally sealing up.

Which is kinda good, but kinda bad. Tomorrow's Warped Tour. Out in the desert heat. Imagine an ocean of people coming to Sam Boyd, and try to see my lil group of people in front of one of the stages. It's gonna be hell, I can tell you that.

Sis has been preparing for this concert since... tonight, actually. Stopped by a Walgreens on our way home where she bought mega-sizeed waterbottles, disposable cameras, and PowerBars to tide us over. I suggested some RedBull but her weak constitution wouldn't agree.

Dear lordy I sound strange tonight. Eh.

Been more or less completely internet-depraved over the past couple of days. The computer's still getting much action, but I think that I have reached the point where I spend a good hour or so reading other blogs/journals.

In exactly twelve hours or so the concert's gonna start. Time to get some more sleep.
Oh, Karen, I need the boy's address. I have to send him something for his bday.

. . . . . posted:||1:02 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Grandma: I would like to go, but di lowrd will not take me. Dat would be a gipt prom di lowrd.
Me: (under my breath) That's a gift I'm willing to give.

I'm quickly losing patience with my grandma. Currently contemplating using my veggie-julieting skills (read: fast and exact chopping) on said person... or come out to her. I'm thinking that the latter will do far more damage; she'll be alive to enjoy it for a long time.

At least she's stopped calling me a "good" boy. And my dad agrees that grandma gets far too annoying for her own good.

On another note, I hate it when people don't understand what I mean by the actions I take. What's worse is not being able to explain to someone that what I do is for their own good.

Yesterday sister was being self-depreciative (ex. "Naw, that boy would never go for me!", "I didn't have time to practice my cello. I'm not good enough anyways.") so I figured that it's time to teach her something or two about being strong. Behind the nice-girl facade she so loves to hide behind, my sister is one of the emotionally weakest people I know. Evidence? I was able to make her cry during dinner (at the buffet no less) by making one or two slight comments.

My dad and I worry about her dependence on others. At this stage she's 16 going on 17 and still too lazy or reticent to do stuff for herself. Recently she's been getting better about it... but not by much. I may come off as being mean, but the only way I know that sis'll learn to be strong is to more or less bully her into building defenses. That was my entire mission in the 7th grade, and why all her friends hated me.

I guess you could pass it off as sibling interaction, but keep in mind that we're normally docile to eachother. My parents still refuse to allow her to go to a psychiatrist/psychologist for some sort of diagnosis and possibly professional help. It helped me be stronger, to the point of being emotionally stoic at times when extremely stressed.

In other, more pleasant news, I'm regaining my ability to cook decent food. For the past month or so each dish I tried to cook became too flavorful. Today, however, I was able to make a decent spagetti in parmesan-mushroom sauce with sauteed potatoes (a bit on the salty side, but balanced out with some sour cream). Right now I'm in the middle of freezing a batch of mango sorbet.

Still, I really need to get started on my paintings.

. . . . . posted:||8:23 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .