GRAAAAAH!!!!! ::crash::

::systems will be temporarily down until I get my fill of Oliver/Percy slash-fics::

::where the hell are all the recent (and preferably good) stories, dammit?!::

The computer's feeling just as congested as I am at the moment.

Mainly that every single bookmark on my damned computer has gone AWOL.

That and a slew of other happenings, but nothing much too interesting to mention.

Oh yeah, Thanksgiving sucked. At least I got half a bottle of white wine out of it.

Cheers, mate.

The annual AIDS show openning's at West Sahara Library, this Sunday, from 3:00pm to 5:00pm. Everyone's welcome to come.

Smile.

Lizzy visited today!

As much as I love the musical RENT, there are still some unsettling memories that go along with that show. Mainly one last year at almost around this same time. But I'm guessing that I'm the only one who can regard it as a memory--maybe even the only one to remember.

Sorry, I'm rambling again.

This sunday was shite. Complete and utter shite. We only had a seven-person teen ensemble, and my throat picked a very inconvenient time to act like an ass. Got through the performance well enough but no where near as good as I usually am. Oh, and no Nick to help with the tenor parts so I was prone to even more slightly-flat intonations. Blech.

Sis and I are awake at this ungodly hour to finish up our art pieces. I'm just putting the final touches (mainly hot-glueing the final parts onto the piece) while sis is trying to sharpie her images onto her glass pieces.

Y'see... there's one thing I don't get about this whole show. For this year's AIDS show the second-years are working on chairs, the third years (us) are creating the dishes, glasses, and utensils, while both kinds of four years are either making the place settings or window panels.

So supposedly the third years get to put their plates and what-nots on top of the place settings... right. Matching them is fine but... I don't see how any artist would feel about having something they've worked on being used as a mere place-mat. Let alone that they're seniors and we're "lowly" juniors. Hrm.

Sis has me spray painting her paper-mache tray silver. The fumes are escaping into the house and... well, I'm not sure that the damned thing will be dry by the time we leave. Hope sis knew that when she was getting stuff ready.

And if not I'll never heard the end of it for the rest of the week.

Now I'm beginning to wonder whether knowing that others share your same ills, vices, maladies, and have-nots is suppose to encourage you to go seek help... or assures you that you're no more base for doing it. Because I'm leaning more towards the latter, and thereby desensitizing myself to possible consequences.

I really need someone to kick the habit out of me. But when someone did have that chance, he never took it.

And I would have loved him forever had he said something to anyone who could stop me.

Dear Jesus-in-Walgreens. Ladies and gentlemen... "Come What May" sung by Sharon Cuneta (the filipino Celine Dion) and Martin Nivera (he looks like my dad with bigger eyes). I'm sorry... but that's just wrong! "I will lub you, unteal mai dai-ing dea" indeed! And the facial expressions from Nivera... ech. I guess all pinoy actors have to have amazing eyebrow skills, but it could have done without the Steve-Tyler-esque lip movements and over-ennunciation. Face it, your FOB accent will show through regardless.

And please excuse me if I seem a bit harsh but... goddammit! No one should ever butcher anything from (one of) my favorite musicals. Ever.

And this goes to you too, Harrison. Screw up Thenadier and I'll kick yer ass. But I have full confidence in you, so that shouldn't happen.

Got loads done during my 7 hours at school working on stuff. The plate's almost done and is looking quite good; it needs a few more final touches. Tried airbrushing "junior" (the mini-head I sculpted to be Mimir's head for my other piece) and, in the beginning, it was turning out quite well. Then the airbrush decided to be an asshole and suddenly gushed out far too much deep-violet on a rather delicate blend. I ended up with acrylic all over my hands and half the table before I figured that just painting the damned thing would be easier.

Oh yeah... score! Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Once More With Feeling! I, being the rabid fan that I am, went out and got the actual cd (nope, no mp3 burning for me!) at Borders along with the new 'Rice novel and some nifty mags with wonderful fashion images. Over the summer I'll have to start making clothes since no one has been making the kind that I like wearing. Well... make em cheap anyways.

Oh shite... English homework. Eh, that's for tomorrow. Junior calls at the moment.

Maybe all of this moodiness has to do with malnutrition.

Oh yes. I've been a very very bad boy. In more ways than I'd like to share at the given moment, but still...

Winter Formal is coming up and I'm taking applicants to be my date... ha ha. At the moment, no date geared up for the event (which is a measily month away... shite) so I'll most likely fly solo or travel with the pack. Randy and Haley offered to take me with, but I'll be damned if I end up being the third wheel. It was hard enough being the third-fourth-fifth wheel fer chrissakes. And if I ask the boy I'm thinking of asking, I know that it'll be flat-out rejection. Then evil awkwardness will ensue; he's straight (as far as I know) and he sits right next to me in another class. Erm... yeah.

I smell a recipe for disaster.

And thanks to castrato-esque ribcage expanses, I'll never be able to pull of the skinny-emo-boy look that I claim to hate but secretly find adorable. Not sexy in the least bit (minus my general attraction to anyone with a willowy figure) but cute none the less.

I've been letting my hair grow out. And there's been a distinct absence of hair product in it. Flavey thinks it's uber-sexy (and I'd disagree), and sis wants me to let it grow until it flips out in the back. Uhh... no. It's bad enough that the freshmen this year are snapping to the emo look already. It took me two years before I tried it out like this. Yech.

At some point I'll have to direct a Flowbee at my unrully hair.

Art projects are coming along well... albeit they're going to kill me in the long run. My sketchbook isn't too much of a concern for me... yet... but the damned AIDS Show piece is due this monday. I'll have to finish the majority of it this Saturday, but it'll be a mad dash to get that and my other homework done.

At least I'm not insane like Andrea. She's making a nice 13'x13'x5' bowl and spoon piece and she hasn't finished her spoon yet. It's about 6 ft. long and, since she's paper mache-ing it, it looks like a massive sperm/shit get up. Yep, brown butcher paper will do that. Hopefully some bastard won't come up and wreck her setup in the basement, but I know that the janitors are eyeing the thing with malicious intent.

I have to present in Psychology today, and I have an unofficial Pride Alliance meeting at the library during lunch. Goddamn Holiday Market came up entirely too fast this year. Grr. I'll have to tell Bobby and Philip to step things up. And make sure that people attend the next meeting... albeit right before Thanksgiving break, but still...

Stress levels are rising and I can't go to sleep again because I already got it earlier today. Yep, I've lost all discipline that I once had.

Slash fics are the bane of my busy schedule.

Damned be all the people back in Arizona who shot down my initial love of Fiona Apple. I've been listening to her music again and... damn. I've been missing out. Her music is unexpectedly sensual and jazzy/blues-esque.

I'm beginning to think that taking Psychology was a major mistake. It's a fun class and all, but I'm only learning because I want to learn. It's not challenging at all (save group projects which always try my patience with the entire human species) and I could be furthering my film/photography studies. Tch.

Parents got the Filipino Channel. Sis and I are constantly oscillating between laughing and cringing at its sheer obsurdity. Pinoy music videos should never be aired, dammit.

I've had an insane lack of coffee.

The weather's definitely affecting my ability to function. I hate wanting to hibernate.

And I'm redoing the new layout (again) for when I move over to the Duck's server. But don't ask me to do it now. I'm too busy readying myself for my group's presentation.

Maybe next year I won't run for club president. Or any office for that matter. Ergh.

Roger:
"Yes, you live a lie! I'll tell you why:
You're always preaching not to be numb,
But that's how you thrive.
You pretend to create and observe
When you really detach from being alive.

Mark:
Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive!"

Got a lot of stuff done for my AIDS project yesterday. Dad got home about an hour late because he forgot that sis and I had work to do (damned golf obsession of his...) so sis and I were very nonplussed.

Got there and I was constantly torn between making my presentation an italian dish or a french dish. Brought along the family Betty Crocker Cookbook for photo and color references. The foie gras is more or less done (just need to add more specks of color onto the "meat") and the mushrooms are appropriately colored... but the pepper/tomatoes came out way too dark so I'll have to repaint them.

Got much of my sketchbook head's basic shape down. All I have to do now is sculpt out all the major facial features... but goddamn plaster is a bitch to sculpt with. At least all the glass etchings are coming along quite well.

Saw the new Harry Potter movie. They need more Oliver Wood! I remember the second book having only slightly less Wood dialogue than the first one, but this movie suffered some serious editing compared to the book it was based on. Looks like a victim of a slasher fic given all the little bits left over... Damned pacing.

Oh, and lest we forget the sap-tacular ending. Blech... kinda like the Star Wars' tradition of a massive parade at the end of their movies. Except this one was a banquet.

Just now I've spent half the entire day napping. Not a good thing at all.

I swear Christy... if you don't jump that boy, I sure as hell will.

But let me back track.

This entire week/month has rendered my emotional state extremely unpredictable. In other words I go from hating everyone and everything during first period Trig. to general apathy and accute cynicism in Am. Lit.; dead-silent glares to Jon in Psych to giving Adrienne and Emily kiss-attacks during Art.

And there's an entire can of worms that I'm obligated to just let down the drain... but not mentioning it here any time soon.

So I try to forget all the shitty times I've been having this past week. I'll be damned if I ever end up acting like him, Karen.

Which is why tonight was much needed. Then again, most outings to Buca Di Beppo are much needed. But with thing's going as crazy as they have been at school, this time around was an even higher sense of relief.

First off, I didn't know most of the people at Christy's b-day dinner... which is a good thing. Granted I'm shy/reticent around them (until you feed me some rum-soaked tiramisu) but meeting people who you don't know at relatively intimate levels (or even familiar with their acquaintance) is always refreshing.

Especially Mr. Sexy-Tommy. While Karen (and many others) may have been able to see Sean Biggerstaff at the movies this Friday, I got to hang around a boy who is equally sexy. Imagine, if you will, the beauteous son of an unnatural combination of Sean Biggerstaff and Tim Wheeler from Ash. The boy can sing punk/emo, looks entirely fuckable, is fond of committing acts of grievous innuendo which from other people would be considered annoying, and he has amazing chocolate-brown eyes. Mmph!

There weren't many people that I knew, but the seating arrangements kept me from too much interaction with most of those whom I did not know. Sarah was there and lamented with fellow Faith school members about the brutal test they took today. Nicole was there, mostly by Christy's side and as hilarious as ever. I made some enjoyful acquaintances though; this girl who affectionately "backed-that-thing-up" against Christy, another girl and her bassist from her band who discussed tats and ear gauges (and managing to pull of a punk style without regressing to Avril-ness), and the two girls that Sarah knew from Faith.

Sarah's lost all patience with him. I would, but I've tended to steer clear of any sort of strong emotion towards the boy.

Didn't do much to Mike since Christy felt so bad for him considering all the past times we've harassed his... erm, ass. Had plenty of eye-candy to replace that.

Tommy and Christy have taken the cherry ritual to new extremes. In other words, the stem was in his fly and Christy chomped down mightly on it. Hot hot hot, m'friends. A pity that I didn't have a camera at the time.

And oh dear lord the stories I heard at the table today. Only difference between me and most people at that table was my maintained secrecy. Most of them had raunchy "secrets" floating all around whatever school they went to. Damn, and I thought I was bad.

Then again, it could be the whole LVA thing. Gossip there travels so much faster than at a regular school. Could be the low body count.

General fun time had by all... until Christy's mom came to pay the bill and deliver Christy with a detached threat on her life; she ditched the last two periods of school and her mom got a call.

Would've liked to hang around Mr. Tommy some more, but Christy's going to have her hands full (figuratively and possibly literally) by the end of the night. Gotta respect the birthday girl's space. She loved the monkey and naked-man card we got her.

Good times, good times.

Tomorrow I'm going back to school for a good six hours so I can work on my AIDS project some more. Yeesh.

But I plan to bring along some spaghetti so that'll be fun.

Er... guess I should get started on that.

I'll be damned if I ever try looking at that picture again.

In light of recent events and factual revelling, I may be forced to pursue a swifter and more decisive form of suicide.

Don't really fucking care what everyone else says; it's really all about control.

Almost an entire year is by far too long of a time for anything.

You can just go and die. Take that however you want to, bitch.

I refuse to go get help any time soon.

Options: Go seek help (hafuckingha), go tell someone about it (another laughable idea), continue as usual, continue with more fervor, or go find that nice shiny thing I like to keep somewhere in my room.

My grandma is doing nothing to alleviate my situation.

My sister is better at acting happy than I am.

My mother's declining condition irritates me.

My father needs enuciation lessons.

My reflection needs to fucking die. I think I'll take down all the mirrors in my room tonight.

Alternate Option: break out the sketchbook... although I won't be able to bring it to school for some time if that happens.

Screw all this. When the hell is my bus getting here?

That's it. Cookie, you are so having that fashion show at the mall.

Went down to the newly improved Fashion Show mall for about three hours of relaxation from all of the strenuous homework I had been doing... all three hours of homework I had been going at, anyways. Hey, it's not my fault that I'm drawing blanks for this AIDS project. Michaels should have given us the idea and topic at least two weeks ago when my creative juices flowed like lemon meringue.

Okay, so technically meringue is suppose to be nice and stiff.

Anyways, Fashion Show Mall has its own runway complete with models who do one show a day during the weekend. It's actually quite interesting... except that the models (specifically the guys) are complete amateurs. For instance, one male model spent three seconds at the end of the runway and was constantly trying to slap female ass... what the hell? Thankfully he only appeared once or twice, but still...

The coolest part, however, was the runway itself. The entire thing rises from the ground and feels much like an actual fashion show. Well, minus the little kids trying to get onto the runway. So, the school's possible fashion competition may have found a home... completely un-bloody likely, but it's always a possibility.

The Starbucks there is nice. Sis and I went in so she could get a caramel macchiato (instead got a mocha coconut frap) and were treated to a loverly sight: three gorgeous men working behind the counter. Two were practically Robbie Williams lookalikes (one just looked like a cuter British version while the other was an italian version( and cute faux-blonde who set off my gaydar.

Not like that was hard to accomplish since half of the men working in any of the stores did that. Especially in Nordstrom where I kept on having flashbacks to both Mannequin movies. Half expected Hollywood to come bursting out in his... her plastic sun glasses. Yeesh.

Nordstrom is abso-fucking-lutely beautiful but there is nothing there I'd dare buy. Everything's so damned expensive. Case in point: this really gorgeous black, frilly shirt and this industrial "hazardous" printed shirt each going in excess of $180. Shite. At least I have ideas for shirt designs now.

... I would so like to go to a church where the missals all have showtunes in them. What better way to please the higher deities with a chorus from "Bring On the Men?"

And people who see me in real life should rejoice. I was this close to getting a nice ruby choker a la Moulin Rouge but I decided against it. I will not turn into another Justin, goddammit!

Watching the Today Show on the TV at this moment. Involving Lea Salonga. And Flower Drum Song.

Still jealous of the Duck who got to go to NYC and watch it himself. Although he did have a point: seeing filipinos playing the role of chinese immigrants is rather odd. Like filipinos playing the vietnamese (and one white guy too). Or all those italian actors who used to play indians.

Erh, yeap.

So, AIDS project for this year. Need to figure out exactly what sort of art-activist message I want to present in depicting Jonathan Larson's work. Dammit all to hell; the computer lab was nice and a-bustling so I couldn't concentrate on my research material (read: RENT Libretto).

... Meanwhile, going along with the whole recent Good Omens and general Neil Gaiman obsession, here's something worth looking at:

Good Omens fan-comic!

Nicely done.

And why the hell do so many lead singers from christian bands have to be so damned hot? Just a thought... and no, I'm not referring to Tony Vincent. I'll give the entire christian music genre some credit though: hip hop, once removed from its culture and presented with raw technique and theory, is actually enjoyable. Sufice to say that the chances of seeing booty-shaking in a christian rap video are more or less nill.

Immediately after finding myself surprised at the christain-MTV-esque channel, I turned to the History Channel. Sex in the 20th Century is playing at the moment. Ha. At least it's giving me some ideas and whatnot for the project.

Sadly enough, my next sketchbook ("rusty metal") is far more developed.

Well, I survived. Pretty freaky circa 11:30pm though; as soon as the clock on the cable box turned the phone rang. Did I answer? Hell no.

Ah oh, the flames, the flames! Currently watching an encore performance of Bravo's Broadway Best and just finished the segment where Adam Pascal and Daphne Reuben Vega sang "What You Own." Everything's just pointing to RENT at the moment. Hell, not like I'm complaining at the moment.

Kind of amusing to note that the audience consists of older women, gay men, and their fag hags. Well, that's the most that I can surmise from all the guys sitting next to eachother. Still... funny.

Make that hilarious with the current rendition of "Do You Love Me?"

Anyways, doing a piece on Jonathan Larson for the AIDS show.

And all the world is a stage where the audience gets trapped in the theatre as it burns down. Thank you Vlad for the idea.

Yeah, I'd be writing more coherently if I wasn't ready to sleep with just five hours to finish this project for Japanese. And I know that all the grammar is completely incorrect. Blech.

Some quotes and observations to be later digested properly:

"Technically, I can trust him with anything, and tecnically, my problems are his problems, and technically, he's meant to help me through anything I have to deal with."

It's in the irony that her actions to win his affection are the cause of his rejection and disassociation.

"I live life from one annoyance to the next."

Speedball carving blades are sharp as hell, but there's never any pain when they ultimately end up somewhere in your fingers while you're printing.

"Mediocre people do exceptional things all the time."

I'm so tired that I should just go to bed.

It's in the dawning hours of the morning... somewhere in the world. Probably the east coast, but that's pushing it a bit. Maybe in Europe? Aw, who cares. All I know is that I have homework and my eyes are drier than Homer's cursed turkey sandwich.

Trigonometry sucks. Normally I'm up for a mathematical challenge (since I abhor(?) any sort of objective, irrational exercise) but my mind isn't adept for solving puzzles this late at night. Especially after only two cups of coffee. I swear, all I need to do now is learn 22 languages, get white with hazel hair, and develop severe allergies and I could be Dr. Jackson from the Stargate series. At least I have the caffiene addiction down pat. But anyways... sine, cosine, tangent, and the like will forever be the bane of my existance until I learn to suck it up and just accept their permanent presence in my life. Much like Will will end up doing to Jack (from Will & Grace) some ten years down the road. Hey, psychic-woman said so on the show.

Today was a waste of my patience. Specifically the part where I had to be grouped up with Cathy, Shane, and Crystal in Japanese. Dammit all to hell. I do not like Shane for very specific reasons (despite everyone else's general or complete lack of respect for Bernau-sensei) and being forced to work in a group with him is not on my relaxing-scenario list. Especially when I have to write all of the sentences since I'm the only one present with at least a 2nd level student's grasp of the language. Cathy I can't comment on too much because she's only rude around Shane, and Crystal's a dear-heart but she doesn't really understand much of anything we learn in that class.

So in Physics I had Jake repeatedly hit my arms to keep me from fulfilling my urge to go out and touch someone. With a very swift ball of knuckles.

Bed. Merlot. Stargate SG-1. Don't bother me; I'm sulking.

It's Sunday, the last day of a three day weekend... and I haven't accomplished anything that I said I would this weekend. Mainly my AP homework, my Art Sketchbook assignment, the new layout, etc. I think I've been having delusions of adequacy again.

Someone is rubbing off on me, and I'm damned ready to pounce on their asses. This is definitely not good at all.

Especially with the recital in about four hours. I'm confident in my piece, but my cut up fingers say otherwise.

Yep, definitely wearing long sleaves to school tomorrow.

So, a conjecture: all of this started on account of my grandma. Or rather, my grandma going off on a diatribe to sis and I about our dad's "exorbitant" spending. It isn't as much as some other people I can name, and grandma should really learn at some point that the Great Depression is over and even then doctors will still be in demand after our economy fails.

She's ratting on to us about how everyone is lazy in the house, I barely contain a scream at her about how she's too goddamned impatient, and sis is just blatantly ignoring the whole mess.

Guilt #1: finished off that entire bag of candy that day.

Guilt #2: ate two dinners with a combined 5 lbs. of food consumed

Guilt #3: ate a rather large breakfast involving oatmeal and coffee

As you can see, food is the enemy at this very moment. At least I hadn't gone to a buffet all weekend long... and no, pre-Ring dinner doesn't count.

I swear, I've lost all respect for the females in my family. My dad's position is teetering, but he's far more of an intellectual (and psychological) equal than the other three estrogen-producing members of the family.

Guilt #4: Stargate SG1 slashfics and tv.

Because of those things I can never get homework done. This is why I do most of my homework at school or at the very last possible moment.

Doesn't help that mom and dad are often screaming at the tv while I work on the computer. And paper-thin walls do nothing to block out all sound.

And people wonder why I like playing my music really loud.

But at least people are finally catching on; whenever I want to tell someone that I won't listen to their annoying banter I bluntly turn the volume on the tv/stereo to maximum... or to the point where I can't hear them anymore. Happened twice this morning already.

Someone clean out my stomach with a spoon already. Or bust my head through a plate of steel.

BEWARE! Online Quizzes!!

Why Will You Go To Hell?
brought to you by Quizilla

I kill children and eat them.
Stay away from me.

You kill and eat little children, and probably molest their corpses.

You're not trying hard enough, though, because there's still plenty of assholes in the world! You might go to Heaven if you can thin the herd a bit. The Lord hates fuckers hanging around and messing up His Creation, after all. HOP TO IT.

Sicko.

Erm... yeah. Don't tell me you didn't see that one coming.
- - -
What fantasy movie are you?brought to you by Quizilla

You are The Dark Crystal! You live in a world of unbalance and upheavals. Your time is quickly coming to make it all right or live in the darkness forever.

Yay!
- - -
What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla

Gay/Lesbian movie! You love fooling around with the same sex, so it's no surprise you'll be starring in a gay porn flick. We all know you "swing that way"...

... Again, whoever didn't see that one coming is sad.
- - -
What fucked version of hello kittie are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

You're HELLRAISER! Dude, you're the completely fucked form of Hello Kitty. You thrive off of other peoples' agony and pain, but who cares? You're the king of darkness and evil.

And my depressive side was suppose to have fizzled out at the start of this year...
- - -
What Sort of Romantic Are You?brought to you by Quizilla

You're a Scorned Romantic. Who hurt you? Well, now you're a little more wise and you're determined that no one is going to make you hurt again. Pain is a universal sensation, though, and the sooner you learn to trust again the sooner you'll be able to crawl out of your impenetrable shell to be part of the world again.

... So what's worse, the fact that I got it or the fact that I knew I was going to get it?

I swear on my plaid shirt's grave that a new layout is in the process. Mainly something slightly to extremely inspired by OK-GO's music.

Finished off an entire bag of Reese's, Almond Joys, FastBreaks, and other chocolate confectionaries. I know that's not healthy.

To make matters worse, I sliced two of my fingers open while cutting into my linoleum tile. And I have a recital tomorrow. Damn.

Oh yes, there's going to be a fundraiser fashion show competition sponsored by the art dept. at school (but it's still in the works). Definitely gonna be exercising my (non-existant) skills at the sewing machine for this. And I will be taking applications for prospective models.

Am I gay? Muchly so.

Brad & Janet: There's a liiight...

"Where do you keep you're grandma?!"

Chorus: Burning in the fireplace!

- - -

Riffraff: With a bit of a mind ("fuck!")

Magenta: You're in for a mind slip!

"Fuck that bird! Grease that pole! Eat that snake! I'm not Jewish!"

- - -

I swear, people need to go over to someone's house with a bit tv and have everyone watch RHPS for Halloween!

In seven days you will die.

Yep, saw the Ring. Good movie (and definitely playing to everyone's media paranoia) and, much like Karen, I won't be dying in a week because I just listened in on the video parts. Definitely came off as a student-film thingy.

And did anyone else catch all of the fallen-angel symbolism? Just one of the perks of being a formerly-occult kid.

Went to the new Borders while still wearing my gold-dragon shirt (dubbed the "gay shirt" by Flavey) and the snake-skin pleather pants... which got four girls to pounce on me today. Funny sight to see, I might add. Anyways, Borders. Bought a book of dream symbolism, the next Lucifer graphic novel, the latest issue of Propaganda, and Two Plays for Voices by Mr. Gaiman. The girls at the cashier were awesome; we chattec about The Ring, Gaiman, and how pleather pants get hot no matter how fake they are.

So, it's post Halloween now.

And I've still retained the tradition of watching Rocky Horror Picture Show this year! Oh yeah, this time it's the DVD with the audience participation added on so I can scream all the jokes at the same time.

Now it's time to go work on those damned prints again.