Er ist gekommen in Sturm und Regen,
er hat genommen mein Herz verwegen.
- - -
Oh weh des Scheidens

Oh weh des Scheidens, das er tat,
da er mich ließ im Sehnen!
Oh weh des Bittens, wie er bat,
des Weinens seiner Tränen!
Er sprach zu mir: Dein Trauern laß!
Und schied doch selbst in Schmerzen.
Von seinen Tränen ward ich naß,
Daß kühl mir's ward im Herzen.

(Oh pain of parting which he caused,
that he has left me yearning!
Oh plain of pleading, as he pled,
of teardrops of his weeping!

He said to me: "Your mourning leave!"
But left, himself in grieving.
His parting teardrops left me wet,
And in my heart, a shiver.)
- - -
Nun seh' ich wohl, warum so dunkle Flammen
Ihr sprühtet mir in manchem Augenblicke.

(Now I see well why with such dark flames
your eyes sparkled so often. )
- - -
from Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen

Es ist mir auch gar nichts daran gelegen,
Ob sie mich für gestorben hält,
Ich kann auch gar nichts sagen dagegen,
Denn wirklich bin ich gestorben der Welt.

(It is of no consequence to me
Whether it thinks me dead;
I cannot deny it,
for I really am dead to the world.)
- - -

All poems and excerpts by Friedrich Rückert. As for the translations... they come from numerous sources, none of which I can claim as mine own.

. . . . . posted:||11:03 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Winterreise is playing again. I have yet to get enough of that program every single time I've seen it. It makes me want to speak German... or at least know how to sing it. Oh, and I want to learn how to shoot ubiquitously white backgrounds. I could use it for future sketchbook projects.

Speaking of which, I will be making the second half of the two-card "Mirror" assignment. Apparently people like the not-quite-concise image I was able to carve out and print out... why? I have no idea.

Today the Korean exchange students came and Nick was dragging his around campus. Didn't get to talk to her much though. The Han tried talking to this girl in Korean, but she kept on using casual pronounciations instead of honorific; the girl was 18. Very entertaining.

Been working on a charcoal drawing for no apparent academic reason. And more than three people commented on how I only draw pretty people. All I can say is... yep, I do. I'd consider myself a neo-aestheticist (if there is such a movement) in that art must appeal to the senses. Not necessarily all the bland and shallow works coming out of the original aestheticist movement; my catholic upbringing wouldn't let me ignore the power of symbolism. But yes, I draw pretty people. Albeit half the time they're disembowled (or at least decapitated).

Then again, there's the other end of the scale; I don't want to be too egocentric. We had to read an article about surrealist landscapes and installations in Art (mainly Susan Skolguld's work) and there was an interview at the end with a 18 year old "protege" who had but one award-winning piece. Riight. Everyone reached a concensus(?) that she was quite full of herself. As in the "I'm positive no one will be able to understand me because I'm a thought provoking individual with such godly talents that all should come down and eat scraps at my feet" variety.

Granted I can act like that at times (and don't think I can't see you people rolling your eyes and/or sighing) but I've never commited it into a literary publication. Erm... this doesn't count. Anyways...

Adam was righteously freaked when he saw said picture of a "Jeffery Dahmer-esque" scene. And Kara is still bugging me about her picture of Lestat which I was coerced into drawing for her. Honestly.

. . . . . posted:||11:16 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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One of the perks of going to a school where there is an almost unhealthy abundance of theatre geeks: come audition time everyone is singing down the halls.

This year's musical climax is the first highschool performance of Les Miserables.

So if you ever swing by, you'll probably witness people marching down the hallways breaking out in a chorus or two of "Do You Hear the People Sing?" Nice to know that by mid-year everyone will know all the lyrics to all the songs of one of my favorite musicals... followed promptly at the end of the year where everyone hates all the songs. At least, with the absence of dance majors in this production, a lot more people are nice and happy about it.

But seriously, Les Miz is by far one of my more life-altering musical experiences. Mainly our dad's ploy to get sis and I reading at a high-than-average grade level. Well, it worked. Led to disappointment when we finally saw it performed later in life, but oh well.

... and I swear that if people don't start singing down the hallways I'll have to get a bunch of people together at lunch to perform--and that word is being used in the loosest of contexts--as much of "One Day More" as we can before people start chucking rotten fruits.

Oh... and I lied. No layout update and whatnot this weekend. Mainly because I fell asleep midway through the day due to incubation temperatures in my room. Yeah.

. . . . . posted:||11:13 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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... Woah. I knew I looked all glammed up, but DAMN I didn't know I looked like effing Rocky with purple highlights. o.o;;

As you should probably be able to tell, yes I've gotten my pictures from the dance (and Ren. Fair as well, but they're (almost) not as entertaining). So, yes...

... Erm, yeah. Nice to know that the parents saw the pics where I was in said compromising positions. Then again... they might just get their hopes up.

That would be entertaining to see.

. . . . . posted:||9:30 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ahem... Good Omens slash! Crowley and Aziraphale cuddling amidst the great watery purging a la Noah's Ark/ Gilgamesh. And the author still retains much of the two authors' comic style:

"I never said it was. Locust."
"Check. I want to go home, Dad."
"Look, would you rather drown with the rest of them? Loon."
"No, I don't wa- Loon? Hee. Loon."
"It's a type of bird! Now say check!"
"...check. What about all my friends?"
"You haven't got any. Lorikeet."
"I have so! And they're all going to drown! Check!"
"Well, that's what they get for being evil corruptions and perversions of the way of the Lord. Especially that Jeseme boy with the hair. Lory?"
"Check. I *like* Jese's hair..."

. . . . . posted:||1:59 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Have I stated how much I utterly hate relief printing? No? Well, just to clarify: I EFFING HATE RELIEF PRINTING. Mainly because I can't obtain the level of detail that I really want to. That and carving in and out of linoleum is a bitch, even when you heat it up so the surface is just that much more pliable.

Finished one half of my next sketchbook project for "Mirror." It's the tarot "Persona" from my non-existant (but possibly in the works) Jungian Dream Symbolism deck. Before I dedicate any more time to making prints, I'll be sure to check with Cookie (aka. Mrs. T) and ask her opinion about the general outcome. Still... reductive printing with 12 colors is a bitch. Especially if said colors aren't really for printing but more for craft acrylic painting. At least it's been generating decent results... but again, no high level of detail.

Oh, and I hate airbrush as well. The secret of my success and supposed-genius is that I should be able to touch the surface of whatever media I'm working with. Airbrush is worse than scuffling and frankly I don't want to spend half of my time getting frustrated with my malfunctioning airbrush and the other half cleaning it out to see if it will improve anything.

Currently watching a Mandarin soap opera "A Dream of Red Mansions." The story is interesting (to say the most) and all of the guys do not look like women. Oh no, the look like prepubescent girls. Excessively distracting.

Guilty pleasure: Almond Joys. Those lil bitches were the bane of my existance freshman year.

And if I had known that Karen and people were going to watch The Ring instead, I would have snuck out of the house. Dammit!

Oh... it's #1205 already? Damn.

. . . . . posted:||1:42 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Googlism for: shyaku

shyaku is referred to as either a tanto or a maezashi

shyaku is right that you basically have to yell at people sometimes to get them out of racist modes of thinking

... ::blinks::

Apparently "shyaku" is a measurement unit for Japanese swords.

Nice to see that the second one is a paraphrase of an entry I wrote once.

. . . . . posted:||3:38 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh, and RootofPi.org has officially gone down.

So, at some point during the weekend I shall be moving over to the Duck's server.

Thanks again for the space! ^_^

. . . . . posted:||3:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I have a valid excuse!

No, really I do.

Things have been utterly hectic and busy for the entire past week. Especially with the preparations for the dance last night.


Still haven't even touched the new homework for US History AP, so it is safe to assume that my vow to be all the more studious this Unit for that class has fallen through at a drastic speed. Belch. Had my "essay" done in Japanese but it needed a severe rewrite so I worked more on that. On the plus side, our new class intern Toshiya came and everything was nice and dandy. He's cute for being Japanese, but not my type of drool material. Nick and DJ thought otherwise. Physics was... Physics. Boring as usual with nothing remarkable to talk about. In Art we began playing around with the air brushes.

Afterschool I stayed to help out Pride Alliance with our shaved-ice booth for the dance. The only people to stay after were Nick, April, Mica, and I. At some point the group went into the gym to see what we could do, but the student council maintained their reputation for inadequate planning and we could do absolutely nothing that day. So most of the time we were just talking about music, movies, and sex in Mrs. Williams' room.

The late bus was running... well, late. I got to my bus stop at about 5:30 and had only 15 minutes to haul ass and get home. Problem: this guy was constantly walking infront of me up until I had to turn into my lil neighborhood. At that perfect speed where it's too ackward to speed up and pass him. So I couldn't run back home. Reason why I was in a hurry: piano lessons. At Chris and Brian's new house (which looks really great) all the way in North Las Vegas. I managed to get home just in time to change into non-sweaty clothes and ran through my Hanon exercises once. The lesson itself was rather mediocre and, with only two weeks till the recital, I need all the practice time I can get.

Left home at 6:20am. Came home for the day at 7:30pm.


Two major tests that day. First class of the day had a Trig. test... which I did fairly well on. Left during class to take my Art Club photo. The bigger, and ultimately more important test, awaited me at American Lit.: the Uncle Tom's Cabin test. I actually did fairly well on that test... mainly because I studied muchly the night before. Mrs. E was getting tired of me having to walk out at two points of the test to take club pictures, but I still managed to finish the test with much time to spare. Afterwards a rather succinct discussion on the book and a prolonged discussion of the symbolism involved. Psychology consisted of more note taking and interesting discussions about Jeffery Dahmer and the like. Found out that Katey and I had an affinity for Ewan McGregor, glitter, and the Velvet Goldmine. More airbrushing in Art where India ink exploded out of someone's color cap.

Stayed again to help out with the booth. This time they actually had supplies so we managed to get much of the core decorations completed. Afterwards got a ride home from Christine.

Spent the night working on homework.

Left home at 6:25am. Came home at 4:45pm.

I shall about Wednesday and Thursday in a bit. Currently mid-homework at the moment.

And I officially hate relief printing. When the hell am I going to get to do Intalio printing?

. . . . . posted:||3:19 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.

Yep. All self control has officially gone down the drain.

Ain't it a shame that at the top still
Those soft skinned boys can bruise you?

At least I'm unable to find Uncle Tom's Cabin slash. Not like I'd read that willingly if I ever did.

. . . . . posted:||4:45 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
When I speak of things getting worse, I'm referring to just about every aspect of life at the moment. Wish I had my Psychology book with me so I could look up the term that I'm going for (I know it exists somewhere) but I don't at the moment.

For about two hours I was outside in the backyard swinging around my shinai with the near-lack of arm muscles I possess. Need to work those up at some point, but the next few weeks are looking excessively busy. Still, it's fun to work out until you're about ready to pass out. Or at least until you start seeing spots or exploding stars. I need to call up Christine sometime so we can meet up and duel a bit. Then again, she'd just critique my very poor stance, posture, and form. Not like she's any better though.

The performance at the library this past Thursday was... unexpected. I came and, surprise surprise, Kevin didn't ever show up so I had to play the part of the soon-to-be stepfather of the deceased. Had fun though my lines needed to be memorized with just over an hour to do so. Well... us "parental" characters didn't have as much fun as the younger characters (mainly the two girls fighting over the dead guy long after he's been laid down) but the pizza at the very end was quite worth it. Ate too much of that and collapsed onto my bed as soon as I got home.

Before the library I was at the Pride Alliance guest speaker meeting. We had quite a good turnout (mainly because we had food and the faithful members goaded others to come too) and the lecture was very informative. Afterwards I was helping with the cleanup while discussing the Vagina Monologues with the four ladies in the room. Vee mentioned how the entire audience was made up of teachers, lesbians, and gay guys. What made me a bit more distraught was that she had an extra ticket and I had nothing to do the night she went! Definitely unkarmic.

Hardly anyone in my American Lit. class is enjoying our teacher. She assumes too much, and her polite mannerisms often come across as condescending. I am not happy with the grade I have in that class at this moment (an effing 88%!) so I'll have to kick some major ass with this upcoming comparison essay. Oh, and there's a test on Uncle Tom's Cabin and extra credit to help buffer my grade a bit. If all goes well, I should be able to move up my grade to a bare 90%. I will NOT get an effing 'B' for this quarter dammit!

Current amount of "unnecessary" crushes on straight guys: 3. At some point it was just knocked down to two, but I ran into someone I'm familiar by name with yesterday... and that did wonders to help myself. Blech.

At least one good thing has happened; the Duck's offering to host my site (yay!) so now I've got a layout to work on. I'll keep posted about it.

. . . . . posted:||1:46 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Signs that things have begun to get rather... odd... have been happening this afternoon. Namely me reading The Crucible slash. Yes, it exists.

Not as well written as the Les Miserables fic I read, but good nonetheless.

. . . . . posted:||5:26 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Things have been going from bad to worse. That's all I can say at this point.

. . . . . posted:||3:47 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Yep, true to my word, I've moved the blog to blogspot for the time being. And I'm using one of the default templates because I'm far too lazy to make a layout for a temporary location. -_- Although... this layout greatly resembles another online journal provider (::coughLiveJournalcough::).

Today proved to be interesting and more complicating that anticipated. Sometimes I end up feeling like Yente the Matchmaker from Fiddler on the Roof when it comes to my friends. The worst part is trying not to interfere too much concerning certain peoples' feelings for others.

Oh Karen, I think he likes you.

Everything is more or less frustratingly balanced at the moment. On one end, there's "Xander" and supporter Lauren. The other is occupied by "Hey You" with Adrienne's strong presence.

Things could get interesting for the next month or so, m'dearie.

PSAT's are just seven more hours away. Ech. Really don't feel the love for it at... 12:00am... right now. I don't need to be taking the damned thing again if it weren't for that National Academic Competition requirement.

And sometimes old habits just don't want to stay dead. Even if you shove the metaphoric stake into the ground.

To end this entry on a non-cryptic note: today I was molested by three straight guys. During lunch by Jon (he was dragging me around with his arm in mine) (and no, he's not the straight guy that I really shouldn't be eyeing) (although, if one could detach him from his sometimes infuriating personality, I'd jump him). Right before Art by Remy (who unbuttoned the top button of my shirt so I went the entire class period with a bit too much of my chest showing than I'm comfortable with). Right after Art by Ode (who tackled me on the steps as I was exiting the building). Why, you might ask? I was wearing a new, 100% nylon shirt that was all shiny and cute looking. So, naturally people would feel me up.

And that's all for now.

. . . . . posted:||12:15 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Oh, since it's now mid-October, I'll be moving my blog to outlines.blogspot.com by Tuesday. Still need to hear back form Jeff at zerostar.net about a possible hosting spot... and haven't been able to find other possible hosts yet. I'd ask Tony, but it's been ages since we've last spoken.

. . . . . posted:||7:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Singing is quite a rush. Especially with a "multitude" in front of you. The duet sis and I sang was... eh. We were both nervous and congested, so we have something resembling an excuse.

Oh, saw Michael from choir two years back at Ren. Fair. That guy is still as FOB-y as he was back when I last saw him (accent and all)... not to mention that he was there with someone who looked like a boyfriend. I really wouldn't be surprised if it was.

Before the choir started their sound check I was listening in on Carlie's conversation. Apparently Darren Romeo, "the Voice of Magic" (he sings while performing magic tricks), knows the two and they were talking about how they distracted him several times over during his performance.

And the boy is cute. He does magic, he can sing, and he's cute. More over: he sings showtunes. Hell yeah! Sign me up for a ticket or two.

Speaking of which, curses to the duck for being able to go see Flower Drum Song! ;_; I wanna go! Sometimes I wish I lived in the tri-city area just so I could swing down to NYC and watch Broadway everyother weekend. Especially since musicals have started to become decent again (Thoroughly Modern Millie and Urinetown to be precise). Damn.

Feeling much better now. Could be all the (two pills of) meds that I took. Or the Jasmine tea. Or both.

. . . . . posted:||7:18 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Ren. Fair yesterday was amazing. Sis and I weren't in costume... and we were probably the only LVA-ites who didn't. Karen was looking like a red, sword-swinging mistress of French death, and was whistled at several times by several guys.

John tagged along for much of the day, and at some point accidently sliced Karen's finger while he was playing around with the sword she brought. Also, he was wearing a "sports kilt." Thankfully he wasn't being traditional, but he still spun around and flashed his boxers at us at any opportune moment.

I didn't buy the random knives and swords that I wanted to (even though I did have much money that day) but I got a shinai, a skull pen (which Emily found excessively cute), and a hand-made journal with pressed maple leaves for only $10. Score!

Had some delicious steak and mushroom meat pie, really really good fish'n'chips, extremely sweet shaved ice, and... several pounds of inhaled grass. At some point I got completely congested and could only speak legibly when I faked a (bad) Scottish accent.

Emily and Adrienne were both dressed like wenches and were being led around by their slave-mother Rose (who looked at home with her Moor-ish dancer-ness) and Marcy was rampantly searching for a nice... disturbingness.

I wanted to get a leather vest or a corset... but finally decided against it.

Sis was getting ideas for random accessories, and she bought a poison/puzzle ring.

All four of us perused many a weaponry shop. One was peddling "Damascus" blades (including one made with a meteorite core) while another had a nice and deadly TaiChi sword for sale. Karen was eyeing all the basket-cased sharpness and I had my eye on getting a set of Spanish dagger-and-rapier, but as I said I talked myself out of it. Tried looking for chainmail so I can go as Romeo for next year's Halloween dance.

Was tempted to buy this nice burgundy feather hair ornament for my glam-rock costume, but it was a complete rip-off. I could easily make one for $2 instead of paying $5. And that's what I plan to do.

Am now a fan of the Wild Celts... if only for the lead singer. Sexiness in a kilt, he is. A pity that he wasn't being traditional (he had black boxer briefs on... you really didn't have to do much searching to eventually see em) but still... mmph!

Me: "You know what they need? They need a mail pole... erm, man po-- May pole."

Karen: "You said male pole."

Me: "Um... dammit, I can't help it if I'm distracted at the moment!"

Did some archery and... I blatantly sucked. Better than the two guys next to me at least; I managed to hit the next-to-center segment of the target twice. My fingers were a tad bit sore, but not as badly as Karen's were after she had played earlier that day.

Nearing the end of the fair, Karen and the rest of us searched rampantly for Randy. Eventually John and Adrienne sat down to rest because the girl's feet were hurting. Later I joined them while sis and Karen continued their search.

The wish bubble that Karen found worked; the two plus Randy and a friend came 'round after the fire-juggler act and... yeah.

So, today I'm stuck with one hell of an allergy-induced congestion, slightly wheezing breath... and I have to sing today at church.

Fate loves me.

. . . . . posted:||1:16 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Things haven't been good these past days. Not necessarily good, but nothing excessively bad. On my own scale of excessively bad anyways. At some points I'm happy bouncing around with an urge to go and make someone happy by raping them (figuratively or literally). Other times I'm too tired to think for extended periods of time.

I have a vague feeling that I've traded dysthymia for a mild, but still annoying, case of bipolar disorder. It could be something in the water.

Said one or two... or ten... things that made my sister cry on the way home. Well, she would've cried hadn't there been other people approaching every five minutes. At times I can't help but feel pity/sympathy for her (and I'll never say it out loud because that's the best way to get her to start crying harder) but other times her practically non-existant self image is alternately disturbing and annoying me. Really, she should've had some sort of counseling in middle school before conditions had deteriorated to where they are at the moment. Dad should have listened.

Then again, there are many things that might have helped sis to grow some variety of backbone. And that's why people hate hindsight. The "sudden" redirection of attention towards me isn't helping her any at all.

Grandma is as infuriating as usual. She and her hypocrit self.

I have no patience for hypocrits like her or like me at the moment.

People really do suck.

These days I've been sleeping, (finally) playing Parasite Eve 2, or eating to pass the time that I should have been using to finish my homework and study for tests. Guess I'm entering another insane phase of imbalance.

Puberty can screw itself. How long until I'm 21?

. . . . . posted:||8:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Fell asleep to A Life Less Ordinary again last night. Sometime directly after the bar dance scene. I love that movie with a passion... not as much as I do Moulin Rouge or Velvet Goldmine, but it's definitely up there. And no, it's not just because Mr. McGregor is in all three movies... for the most part. Mainly: ALLO has a nice, whimsical love story; VG has a sex-charged rocker love story; MR is an extravagant, Bollywood-inspired love story.

But rest assured that I will never spend a weekend parked infront of the tv with chocolates/ice cream and tissues watching Bridget Jones' Diary. Or Kate & Leopold for that matter.

Especially not on the couch at home. Every time I decide to fall asleep on that thing I wake up to about 20 cracks in my neck.

Another idea for my sketchbook: something or other to do with canon cancrizans. Or contramovement canons. Currently listening to my Morimur CD to try and find some example of any of the above while researching the hidden meanings of Bach's Partitas for Violin.

Then again... all those pieces are for solo violin. So the addition of other instruments and/or parts is highly unlikely. Crap. Okay, time to find something or other about the significances of Bach's "the Musical Offering."

. . . . . posted:||9:10 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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So this entire day was more or less well needed.

Finally got that damned AP homework out of the way... for the most part. All I have to do now is worry a hell of a lot about the upcoming debate.

Grandma was gone all day to a nurse's conference. Parents and sis were out of the house by 2:30 to drop sis off and then go to the MGM for some medical crap.

And thus I was left alone in the house for quite some time. What did I do once all the homework was over?

If you guessed singing showtunes (namely Les Miserables) at the top of my lungs then... you're right.

As sad as that is.

I occasionally pounded said songs on the piano and attempted to sing at the same time, but that proved to be excessively difficult. Damn you Nick and your piano-talentness.

But my voice is a bit worse for wear from all of that screaming/singing.

. . . . . posted:||11:58 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Currently working on the next sketchbook project. Yes. I know I'm an over-achieving ass, but this is all for my eventual AP Portfolio.

New term to interperet: "mirror."

So I'm thinking about making a piece using kabbalah teachings and mythos.

One of the ten sefirot, Shekhinah is the inner female embodiment of YudHayVavHay (aka. Yahwey, Jehova, the God of Abraham, God, and most recently: Alanis Morrissette). She is essentially the nourishing force that allows all things to live (not to be confused with fertility, the force that creates).

She is also the force called love. Whenever a person shows love or affection for another, Shekhinah is present. Thus, she is sometimes presented as a bride while her groom presents the nine remaining sefirot.

Talmudic teachings say that Shekhinah is the aspect of God within the People of Israel. The ailments which the Israelites suffer are felt by Shekhinah as well, and there for the only chance for humanity to attain divinity is through her purification. But how does a God purify itself? That ties into the whole Messianic tradition.

Associations with Shekhinah: blue, black, the mouth, the moon, the Garden of Eden, the Tree of Knowledge, mirrors, and the end of all thought.

It's amazing what one can learn on the internet.

So somehow or other I want to portray whatever sort of purging one must go through in order to obtain "purity," and associate that with Shekhinah. Something about the battles over the holy land by the three religions of the God of Abraham seems quite appealing. I may (or may not) just scrap the whole "Spirit of the Israelites" notion for something more personal and introspective.

Moreover, what medium should I use? I could do another sculptural piece like I did the last one (which is still at school at the moment because Michaels wanted to take a few slides of it, as well as sis') but sometime this year I want to do a short film/ music video. Oh well, time to scour the list and see if there's anything that looks appetizing.

And in other news: Christina Aguilera. Dear lordy. Nice to see that she's not holding onto her good-girl image (and a bit reminiscent of Ms. Pak's "Adult Ceremony"). You can't help but have some measure of respect for the courage it takes for anyone to expose that much... genital area... in any situation. Especially during a music video.

Still loving the new song though.

::looks around, then pops in his Something Corporate CD::

. . . . . posted:||10:49 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I feel like screaming at this moment. But only because I'm feeling very Shirley Manson-esque.

Sometimes the best (albeit unhealthy) thing to do is to deny that it every happened.

Was going to type here about something or other about it being Filipino History Month (whoo) but I honestly don't know shite about "my country" and "my people's" history.

The full extent of my knowledge is as follows: Mayan volcano covered stuff with... erm, ash. My ancestors didn't eat Magellan in so far as killing him and half his crew mid-voyage. We were considered a bizarre, barbaric culture that the American people (under Pres. McKin... something) had to teach culture to. We were colonized by the Spaniards and Portugese and had to cook bastardized mechado for them. The Batan Death March killed many a US soldier during WWII. For some time we were controlled by a militaristic dictator named Marcos and his designer-shoe collector wife Emmelda (who took her little "hobby" far enough to cause the country to go bankrupt). We've had not one, but two (maybe three?) female presidents.

And perhaps the most important occurance in recent history: Lea Salonga's debut in Miss Saigon in the 1980's opened up the great pinoy calling known as Broadway.

Either that or the official creation of a Filipinotown in L.A.

. . . . . posted:||10:27 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Friendship and Its Inevitable Consequences

. . . . . posted:||7:34 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hm... Today's a day for prose.

These are the lies that I tell myself to get by.

Found out one too many things today. But no matter what, I'm still relieved that these certain weights have been lifted from my shoulders. Things are still quite volatile at the moment, but all of this is necessary.

Strings will be cut.

At some point during the video in Psychology, I got into a semi-sleeping mode where I apparently looked like I was convulsing every few minutes. Adrienne was even getting nervous because I wasn't answering her whenever she called to me. Regardless, I somehow managed to fully awaken with an odd sense of breathlessness. Hm.

And face firmly set upon face, he walked into the world.

Girl pants are definitely dress-code on me. Mainly because my man-hips can't keep said pants up above my waistline for more than five minutes. Apparently sis was half asleep when I asked her if I could borrow pants and that Incubus shirt today, so she was equally shocked as many around me in the morning.

It could just be the pants, but I felt extra flirty today. Stared straight at Carson during American Lit. I suspect that he's looking at something or other on my side of the room, but he's often looking in my direction if not directly at me. Sat on Mica's and Nick's laps during lunch. Yelled at Jake for "cheating" on me with Adam, followed by some bizarre tongue thing. Made obscene gestures to John who reciprocated till he freaked out a bit and stopped. Was about to hit on Mike, but thought better of it; that boy's confused enough as is.

And lastly, got molested by Casey briefly afterschool.

La belle indifference.

During Art, while trying to get a stapler to work, I accidently embedded one in my left palm. It hit an artery and bled for a good five seconds before abruptly shutting off. No more blood, but I had a nice pool in my palm till I wiped it clean with a tissue. Teacher Michaels got queasy when she saw and was more or less sick for the rest of the class.

I had a mind to drip it all into my sketchbook... erm, book.

Sometimes I can admit it.

But not at the moment.

. . . . . posted:||7:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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... ::clears his calendar for November:: ...

And yes, today I've lifted a large burden off of my shoulders. Don't exactly feel comfortable sharing yet, but I think that I'll be happier for some time.

Scratch that, I know I'll be happy. Mainly because I was rummaging through sis' "unwanted" clothing and found the perfect faux-shiny snake-skin pants for my glam-rock costume. And I found a pair of very very nifty jeans.

Who cares if they're Roxy? I'm wearing them tomorrow and that's final!

::performs a dance of jubilation a la Gap commercial::

All I need now is a denim top and it's all nice and perfect.

Time to go work on... Crucible. I've read that sucker several times over, and once more before tomorrow's American Lit. class so that I can ace that test and bump my grade back up to an "A".

::fires up the good ol' coffee maker::

It's almost sad how pointless Pride Alliance has become compared to last year's. Could possibly be that this year we're focusing too much on de-emphasizing the "gay" pride part of the club. We've lost much popularity because we've shrouded the true origins of the club (much like the church had the castrati).

I really should speak up at some point and say that it's fine that we're for all of diversity, but the de-emphasis still gives some special treatment to the GLBTQ side of the dodecahedron.

To really get to our message of "anything and everything" we need to stop being concerned about the first impression of what the club is about. Yes, defend it whenever someone just calls it the "gay" club, but only refer to it as such when prompted.

Erm... I'll have to think more on that. Currently the family room is an unusual site: the Crucible is playing on the TV (by pure coincidence), Thoroughly Modern Millie's on the computer speakers, I'm wearing boxers and a sweater, and books are stacked precariously next to the entrance to the kitchen. Hm.

Yes, back to work.

. . . . . posted:||10:51 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Things have been busy yet again.

"Busy" being the semi-operative word. Mainly I've been coming home from school and sleeping for odd hours without the urge to go online or on the computer.

Being not-as-depressed is tiring.

Now I am writing just to let you know I'm still alive.
And sometimes I forgive.
Yeah, and this time I'll admit...

Just got the new Good Charlotte CD. Well, correction: sis got the CD. I've just been listening to it whenever she had been. Went to Borders today before choir rehearsals so that I could search for the 48 page ad for Gap's "For Every Generation" campaign in last month's Vanity Fair.

Yes, I'm still hung up on Will Kemp. And no, not the one that had his marathon jig back when the Globe wasn't fitted with sprinklers.

No Vanity Fair (and I was *this* close to getting that issue of GQ that's just as thick), and there were paramedics with their walkie-talkies patrolling the store. Very very interesting.

Learned interesting things from Sarah after rehearsal.

Recently we've been experiencing wind storms a la Chicago. Yesterday's high was 75-80, but today's was somewhere around 65. Tomorrow's back up to 75 with a chance of rain. I love this weather. Definitely a welcome break from the prevailing heat wave we've had for the past month or so. A pit that it's back to the 80's by next Tuesday.

And yes, I doubt that any social life outside of school would be very involving. Mainly because I have no time to meet or hang out with people otherwise. Blech.

Contour and blind contours in art recently. Mine are turning out very well, but I still don't enjoy it all that much. Sis' having a harder time than I though.

Oh, and for the record: levels will forever be known as penis ever since Raven held one between her legs while we were hanging up a gallery.

The ghost in the theater does not like other majors performing on its stages. Especially art majors. Mainly because every single thing we've tried to do with the projectors and sound system dies an hour or two before showtime. At least nothing of the sort happens in the Black Box theater.

La Belle Indifference.

And that is all for now.

. . . . . posted:||11:01 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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