It's Friday. And not a moment too soon.

Tonight the family's going downtown to see Les Miserables. Apparently we get to see the good Eponine this time 'round. Yay.

Today I felt like going to school all mod-esque so I wore my best black pants, black shirt, black tie, socks, and business shoes (my tux shoes have no traction and a half-inch sole is required in the art room).

Currently trying to condition my hair since it's been growing a bit on the coarse side recently. Blech.

Airbrushing is almost over. I just need to input a few more details and I'll be all set.

But now to go get ready.

During lunch, someone broke out an amp and an electric guitar and started playing semi-well. People gathered around, and the administration backed off.

I love my school. I really do.

In other news, friendships really do find basis on trust. They really do.

I'm not so much pissed as I am disappointed.

I have to believe in a world outside my own mind. I have to believe that my actions still have meaning, even if I don't remember them. I have to believe that when my eyes are closed, the world is still there.

Do I believe the world's still there? Is it still out there?

Yeah.

We all need mirrors to remind ourselves who we really are.

I'm no different.

-from the movie Memento

Caring for Your Introvert.

So completely true. Hey, we should let the boy read this, m'friend.

Thanks very much to the Duck for the helpful link. ::waves::

On a semi-relative note, one of the club advisors from Pride Alliance thought your graphic was some sort of nipple piercing. o.0

So, time to update this thing once more. Ahem.

For the 10th Anniversary week (which was cut short thanks to Pres. Day on Monday) there were a lot of nice and hectic events happening. Tuesday wasn't all that bad (it was quite regular, all things considered). Wednesday Juniors had an "academic assembly" where our counselors talked about which classes we needed to consider next year (not like I needed the talk).

Thursday was the first of two celebrations. For some reason, 5th period was taken out so we only had three classes and then a school assembly in the gym (which was actually one of the better ones this year). Also, we had an alumni (goes to NYU for film making) come talk and be all sexy like. Seriously. He had the entire art class swooning when he came and talked with us about shite (and managed to make me stutter; you have no idea how rare that is).

Friday was more or less a regular day. Everyone involved in Les Miserables (which happens to be the first highschool production of the show) was tired and falling asleep in their classes. Sis and I stayed after school so we could help with the gala banquet before the night's show. So, dad swung by the school to pick up our backpacks and such, and brought me a change of clothes (white pants, black tux shirt, white bow tie) so that I wouldn't look grungy. Went to the banquet room where the caterer (and an admittedly cute son) were setting up the food. Initially I was supposed to assist with the coffee and such... but they never got any actual coffee. Instead, I became a cake cutter.

Now, the cakes themselves deserve their own paragraph. There were eight of them. Three were vanilla cakes with fruit inside, but they weren't really good. The other five though... Mmph! All had chocolate and glass-sugar sculptures on top (something that I'm just beginning to get the hang of making) (yes, as Rachel said: "Chuck, you're so gay.") and the five different insignas for each general major. The art cake went away first (german double-chocolate cake), with the international studies cake (chocolate cake with banana) and the dance cake (tiramisu minus the Kaluhua) were half devoured. The other two remained untouched.

Oh, and they had amazing chocolate truffles shaped like sea shells and roses on top. Exquisite taste.

Then, us volunteers helped to escort the VIPs to the theater, which we did (not much else to say there). So, we went into the theater because we were allowed to watch the show for free, but we had to stay in the very back of the room. Luckily, Christine's boss moved to the back section so she could sit with her friends so there were two vacant seats in the lower sections. Christine jumped up, and I followed.

We ended up sitting almost directly behind Mr. Jackson (club advisor) and was scared that he'd be ticked that we weren't sitting in the back, but he really didn't care much. Karen and Justin were in the same section, and halfway through Mr. Gerye's hour-long speech (where he gave just about every single person ever to step into his office a plaque) Karen noticed that I was three people away.

Christine and I were sitting next to another colleague of hers; he works at CLASS magazine as the art director. And then they had this humorous conversation:

him: So Christine, is he your boyfriend?

Chr: Noo... he's just a friend. A gay friend.

Well, I thought it was hilarious when she told me later that night. Could also be the fact that the guy was setting off my gaydar big-time.

The show was awesome, but it didn't end till almost 11:00pm. Everyone was tired and complaining because the show normally ended an hour previous. Ech. Oh, and Gavroache (sp?) couldn't sing, act, nor remember his cues. He constantly drove the orchestra insane by coming in three measures too early. Evil.

But everyone else was amazing. Although... you could completely tell who were choir majors instead of theatre majors.

And Karen.... Jean Valjean: Gun. Bang. Flare.

Saturday and Sunday I spent at home struggling with my self-portrait. Among other things.

Actually talked to Matt. Things are still ackward, but now I'm not so skeptical about his motives for reinitiating contact.

Although Sarah was right, he more or less invite himself to our birthday party (which will be about a month delayed).

Today was shite.

Everything was nice and mediocre. I perked up during lunch because the sky was impossibly blue today and I felt like running around a la Julie Andrews during the opening of the Sound of Music.

But I will never airbrush in the art room ever again. Mainly: my portrait's now ruined. Too many damned distractions, so I now have to start my face all over again. And possibly an entire half section of the damned thing. Friggin' A.

Came home, ate lunch, tried working on my AP homework but passed out due to exhaustion. Seriously passed out. I was sitting on a chair to keep from falling asleep, but I blacked out and found myself on the floor when I regained consciousness. Thankfully, sis and I decided to preserve our sanity/dignity and opted not to go to piano today.

Now that I'm awake again, I plan to airbrush the night away so that I don't have to bother with the damned thing till next year.

Good night.

Hello, oh neglected blog.

Just a quick post to jot down future topics to be expanded upon:

It was LVA's 10th Anniversary, so I had to help out with the festivities on Friday. Got to see Les Mis (which was exceptionally good; it was actually better than the professional touring cast that came last year) after hob-nobbing with the VIPs while cutting cake for em.

Helped the art department with the auditions and crap today after the AP review session.

Had alumni come and talk to classes and such.

Friends are, for the most part, fine and dandy as a pansy in spring.

Currently taking a break from my airbrush assignment and currently contemplating whether or not to call in a favor due to me.

We shall see.

Ahem... There's "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" fanfic. Correction, a crossover fic with Gundam Wing.

I'd post the address, but I want Karen to read the actual book first; she'd be able to appreciate it better.

::waves:: Hiya!

A martial arts movie. Directed by Quinten Tarantino. Starring Uma Therman with a bloody jump suit and sharp katanas. Lucy Liu with killer obi sashes. Called KILL BILL. Did I mention that it's a martial arts movie directed by the same guy who did Pulp Fiction?

Please tell me someone else out there is excited about watching this one.

Sometimes I wish I was more like Charlie.

Charlie isn't afraid to show his emotions (even though he has a tendency to cry during unimportant times).

Charlie loves his family and, despite not getting hugs from members of his household, still gives them readily.

Charlie likes to pretend that he does things, and it's okay.

Charlie says amazing things like "I feel like I'm infinite" that makes everything feel nice and warm inside.

Charlie likes people who don't sleep with someone at a party just because they could.

Charlie loves making mix tapes for special days and occasions.

Charlie gives the actual copies of books he loves to read.

Charlie is a wallflower, but he's cherished because he understands.

I wish I were like Charlie sometimes.

But I like being myself a tad bit more.

And that makes me feel infinite.

Today was sis' 18th birthday. So, after singing (with Nick and I attempting to hit many numerous high notes semi-successfully), sis wanted to celebrate at Osaka.

Our waitress, Ginny, was very good at selling the specials (she talked me out of getting the salmon for the red snapper special) and I had one of the best fish dishes I've ever tasted.

Also, there was a head-shaven bus-boy (never caught his name) who kept looking towards my direction. Sis noticed it first, and then I did later as well. I feel loved and giddy.

But I should have given/gotten phone numbers. Oh well.

I really feel the urge to talk about the book. Really. I think I'll read it again today instead of studying for that history test afterschool on Tuesday. And this time I'll be writing and dissecting the book.

People who aren't off-beat or midly-to-extremely unusual won't get this book. But everyone will get something out of it.

Stay away from the bacon. It's cooked.

Something I heard during my American Lit. class between Flavey and Eisen:

F: I have no hope for the future.
E: No hope?! Then how do you get up in the morning?
F: I get up knowing that today something might change and make everything better.

I've reached a point where I need to make a decision. And I have. So, instead of killing myself quietly by the lake thingy by my house, I've decided that I won't eat today.

That will make me feel better than I do at the moment.

Which is surprisingly good since I just finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Chbosky. It scared me how similar a lot of the characters are to my friends.

So today I'll load myself with history homework and my airbrushed self portrait and not think about it being sister's birthday and all the food with noodles (long noodles=long life, my grandma believes).

I've decided to go walking at midnight with a book in hand more often.

Yay! Fridays should be much more like this one!

School was, for the most part, enjoyable and stuff. Lunch was very funny (plenty of mistaken messages). But all the fun-ness happened after the 2:00pm bell.

Here's the short version: Stayed after to help out with the "Love" show, afterwards walked 'round with Christine, Emily, and her friend from Californy, Aaron. Ended up walking from school to the Sahara casino (about 3 miles), taxi'd to Treasure Island to drop Aaron off with his parents, walked to the Venetian and ate a short dinner, driven by Athenas to the other arts show (the one off campus with much inappropriate material) and chatted with the art teachers, then back to Treasure Island to pick Aaron back up before heading to the movies and then home.

Now for the details.

The Celebration of People show was rehearsing while the art show was happening, so we got a lot of loud loud music. Mrs. Alford stopped by after the rehearsal was done and looked at a bunch of the pieces.

Emily's friend Aaron (who seems suspiciously closer to Emily than she'll readily profess) was very lickable... erm, like-able. Yes. AND he's a natural redhead so that's +1000pts.

Mary was at the show, so I thanked her again for her help during Holiday Market and she picked my piece as her favorite for the entire show. Yay-ness.

Tori and I discussed much bizarre slash pairings.

While walking for three miles, everyone sang Moulin Rouge, Chicago, and RHPS songs either off-key or extremely well (all things considered).

Emily found a bottle that someone pissed in, so she mailed it in the Fed-Ex mailbox.

We were going to go check out the Attic (vintage clothing store where I could get much for only having $100-odd dollars) but instead Aaron needed to walk back to his hotel where his parents were staying.

At the other arts show (Keri, Katie, and Camille's) there was a lot of cool pieces and stuff. Emily got a fake tattoo of a skull and cross bones just above her cleavage, and the pics I took made her look dead. She was happy.

Also chatted with the different art teachers (all three minus Ms. Koch) and, with the aid of Mrs. Michaels' gay friend, my career as a drag queen is set. Except, I'm not a "Coco;" I am a "Chastity!"

Bit Emily a total of five times (twice leaving actual puncture marks, but not deep enough to tell that they were done by human teeth).

Athenas was our main driver, but she was complaining about how hard it is to drive while wearing a corset.

While picking up Aaron again, we had to run up to his room so he could pack stuff, and much picture was taken. Athenas and Christine wandered the seemingly endless hallways.

Daredevil is a great movie; it's the best Catholic thriller since the Exorcist. And there's a lil formula to the movie: only the Catholic characters come out relatively well. Hint hint.

Anyways, just got back home about ten minutes ago. G'nighty then.

Oh! And have a happy, belated Singles Awareness Day!

Today, after school, and for some odd reason, I was prancing around the art room with a bowler hat on, white paper attached to my collar (I looked like a priest), and singing and dancing showtunes while waving around my (opened) umbrella.

I'm singing like I'm gay! Yes, singing like I'm gay!
Hear the showtunes come out of my mouth everyday!

Seriously.

Today was a very special day (har har). People need to loosen up far more often than they do already. Yeesh.

Also: I was completely irritated with my airbrush self-portrait (thus making it self-portrait #6 in the past three years) that I was writing "I hate me" and "me should cut me up and burn the left over pieces" on the frisket film already covered in ink. Tony came 'round and asked me why I hated myself, so I had to clarify and say that it was the piece that I wanted to kill.

And I'm not sure if I really was singing "I'm gonna slicey and dicey your facey" aloud.

Big test tomorrow for history... which I don't have to do! That's because I'll end up doing it on Tuesday afterschool (blech) but I get to go to the breakfast for all the science-fair finalists. Yay.

Sis is completely stressing out over homework since she hasn't even touched it yet. Now, I know that I'm fully capable of pulling just about anything out of my ass (metaphorically, idiots) and have it done the night before. Sis, on the other hand... when she procrastinates, she suffers. And because she suffers she whines/breaks down. And because she does all of the above, she takes it out emotionally on the nearest person (read: me). And because of that, I suffer as well.

Loverly chain of events happening here. Blech.

Has it already been such a long time? Tch.

Got the pictures from Sadies developed. They didn't turn out quite as well as I wanted them to (mainly the one of Mr. Jackson as a southern-baptist minister person) (oh the irony) but they were satisfactory overall.

Except that I look hideous in each one I had taken of me. Blech.

Currently working on my "card" for the Love Show on Friday. My class is making "cards" (read: anything that can be opened up and read) with the theme of love for it. I'm doing a cd case... and no, I won't share exactly what it's about. I haven't even decided what it'll be about anyways, so it's futile to ask me at this very moment.

So much to talk about. Oh so much. But I'll do that later when I'm not so occupied with art/AP homework. Ech.

I feel like a potentially gigantic idiot. And if current sentiments are correct, I've been the biggest, supposedly forgiving yet oddly grudge-y, idiot in my entire group of friends... all 15 different groups. Hindsight is great. Effing 20/20 vision, man.

Happy #1300 everyone.

Sadies was tonight. It was great.

Before Sadies, dad had to pick up his "boyfriend" (read: sis' godfather and his best friend) from the airport. He kept on taking the wrong exits, so we went in circles for a good fifteen minutes. Afterwards a quick dinner at Pinoy Pinay with the uncle, and then reliving memories over warm pandesal.

Then got to school. Doug was waiting along with Bri and her friend, so I quickly trotted up and said hi and stuff. Went inside (where Eisen took the tickets; she gave me a nice eyebrow lift when I had to explain to her that "he's with me") and went to sit at a table.

Doug does not dance. It's kinda sad, but he was seriously stiff; no flexibility what so ever. So I took it upon myself to take up the challenge, to teach Doug the essentials of highschool dancing: slow dancing, freaking, swinging, and the time warp. At the beginning of the night I (and several other people) had to literally pull him up by the arms and drag him around. By the end he was actually dancing of his own accord. I'm so proud of lil Douglas.

Don't worry, I'm not trying to get into his pants. So there! :P

Other highlights: Mr. Jackson being a souther baptist minister marrying Wendy, Kate, and Ben at the same time ("Can I get a loud'n'rowdy 'yeehaw'? YEEHAW!"), Chris dancing to Grease Lightning, all the N'Sync songs, and the Macarena with perfect dance steps (usual dance major), Gere breaking up all the people freak-dancing during a 5-song hump-a-thon, Auki and Tyler going as bondage cowboy/girl (and winning the costume contest), and a line of guys I know singing YMCA with the headdresses on. Hah.

Other good news: Jyl's not dead.

So much insanity is happening this weekend, and many people I know are on the last of what little nerves life had tossed their way.

Here's to you're safe return to us. Please don't be dead.

Which reminds me of something that I had thought of a while back. Last sunday, I remembered distinctly that, after church, I would turn on some music in my room, grab what little money I have, and lock the door. I would go to the front door, and I would walk outside. I would walk down the sidewalk, and I would not stop walking. Like Forest Gump, but I'm walking instead of running.

All this drama (and for once, it's not the usual teeny-angst sort of crisis) is not good for one's stomach. Especially after eating a pasta salad.

Far too much to do.

I think I'm going to be sick. I've been painting on and off for the past six hours. But, technically it's only been two hours of work; I was busy asking someone to Sadies.

And he said yes.

But once again I'm going after someone that other people want (either that or he's lying which i hope is not the case).

There's no better way to do some male bonding than over former crushes and borderline gay porn.

Ingesting acrylic paint is definitely not a wise idea.

My head, it pains! Must be the plastic medium getting to my head.

When you hear "Be careful what you wish for, it just might happen," take heed. It can, will, and (thank you Murphy) does happen.

It hurts my currently-empty gut; like scraping out my self-digesting insides.

Yep, Karen. This'll be harder than I though. Especially since he was the first one to call.

Today we had the founder of the Northwest College of Art come to school to review some of the students' portfolios. Naturally, I gathered up some of my more recent works and had it reviewed.

I think I impressed Mr. Freeman. He really seemed to like my self-portrait and my man-machine painting ("You did this freshmen year? It's very mature for a first year") (but I don't see whatever it is that everyone else sees in that piece; I hated it) and was further elated to see the quick sketch of Christine I did (which I literally had down in about 15 minutes in three colors of markers). He recommended a career in portraiture given all the faces and people I painted (which I had previously looked into, and it does seem very appealing) and was looking forward to my application next year. Yay.

'Course, sis completely blew him out of the water with her hyper-realistic paintings, specifically her friggin' exercises for the self-portrait assignment. Looks like the sibling competition has started again.

Quite some interesting news: he remembered my birthday. There's hope for him yet.

And the sketchbook assignment has been pushed back to tomorrow, so I have plenty of time tonight to work on it (I feel asleep after two hours of heavy small-detailing).

Yeppers.

"Rich and Happy"

Life is swinging,
Skies are blue and bells are ringing.
Every day I wake up singing,
"Look at me, I'm rich and happy!"

Days are sunny,
Working hard for lots of money,
Filled with people smart and funny,
Filled with people rich and happy.

Who says, "Lonely at the top"?
I say, "Let it never stop!"
It's my time coming through,
All my dreams are coming true:
Gorgeous house, gorgeous wife,
Who wants any more from life?

Skies are beaming,
Future bright and prospects gleaming.
Best of all, I don't stop dreaming
Just because I'm rich
And famous
And therefore
Happy, too!
. . .

Damn you, Sondheim. Damn you. You're turning this blog into a Broadway revue. -_-;;

Also started working out again in my own slapdash bouncing on a minitrampoline to obscure Stephen Sondheim songs sort of way ("Something About A War" is great to bounce to, while at the same time providing ironical countercommentary to the political events of the day). It's time to lose a few pounds and get back into shape. Yes.

Apparently it's happening to Mr. Gaiman as well.

It could just be out of desperation (I really have no one, within reason, to ask) or just to see how he'll react to me asking, but I think I'll see if Doug wants to come with to Sadies on saturday. Eh.

In other news, Joey wants to borrow my red t-shirt because it matches this thong that he has... which he pulled out of his bookbag to show me. That was interesting to say the least.

(But I was wearing matching boxer briefs, so let's just call that even, shall we?)

I have about 10 hours to finish a massive painting. And I've prepared a quarter of all of the house's coffee for consumption to keep me awake all night. Yay.

For those Dogma and Good Omens fans out there, an excerpt from a rather hilarious crossover fic:

The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness gave the Bringer of Light, Daughter of Heaven, Queen of Queens, Shining Beacon of Hope, One True Path, Last Scion and Lady Our Savior a cup of lemonade.
It was a small plastic cup with a lid on it, to avoid spills.

Several pots of coffee and minimal sleep since Sunday. Yes ladies and gents, it's science fair. Ech.

Ahem...

::sings:: Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday, happy birthday; happy birthday to me.

Yep, today was my birthday. Kiss sweet-sixteen good-bye, I'm seventeen and I don't feel much better different.

This year I'm playing it low-key since I'm saving up my energies for next year's 18th Birthday party. Four words, mis amigos: Thunder From Down Under. We are so watching that show!

But I digress... so, about five people actually remembered that it was my birthday today: Barto (all the way from AZ), Sarah (who remembered after looking at the date for day), Adrienne (just because she's a fellow groundhog), and Karen (because Barto reminded her two days previous). I got an e-card from Rica, but the Hallmark website is backlogged at the moment so I'll have to read it later. Gomen.

So, how did I spend my 17th birthday? Working on science fair and that stylistic analysis of Asimov's I, Robot.

Happy happy joy joy.

::bang::

Currently stalling. Yes, I'm still putting off something as big as science fair for a few moments' entry.

Bernau-sensei practically ripped off Terese's head on Friday. It was very very entertaining. Y'see... before that happened, Terese found out that her lil KEY Club people wouldn't be able to take the booth meant for APC's use. Hah! And then she attempted to turn in her homework at the end of class (since she forgot to do it and was working on it instead of taking notes) and was practically yelling at sensei to take her work (she claims that she didn't know it was due). So, sensei blows an end or two and tells everyone to stop talking or else she'll start taking down names for detention.

Normally she's quiet and polite, so her repremanding anyone (let alone raising her voice) is rather monumental.

Grandma is attempting to instill unhealthy eating habits into the family's diet... again. In other words, "Your dad needs his food, so I cook as if I'm feeding Ethiopia, and you really should try the vegetables because they came from the freshest cans, or the meat because you need to work up those muscles and stop being fat... but there's too much cholestrol in that thing, so have some fried egg instead, and be sure to eat in moderate amounts because I cooked all this food--it's healthy choice--and you can eat as much as you want, because I want you to eat all of it up." But not in that one long, winded sentence.

She doesn't get much of it. I should stop eating her food in protest again.

GODDAMMIT! SIS IS ASKING ME ABOUT HER SCIENCE FAIR PROJECT (THE FUCKING PROCRASTINATOR); ABOUT HER PROCEEDURE WHICH SHE SHOULD HAVE HAD FINALIZED A LONG TIME AGO (ESPECIALLY SINCE SHE'S SUCH A FUCKING PERFECTIONIST) INSTEAD OF MAKING THESE LAST MINUTE CHANGES.

I. WILL. NOT. HELP. HER. ANYMORE.

... Just as my hands were poised over the keyboard, my mind was completely wiped clean. I've forgotten whatever it was that I was talking about.

Grandma's lying on the couch talking (loudly) on the phone in Ilocano. All I can pick up is the occasional "puki i nam" (trans: your mother's vagina secretions)(she claims that it's just an expression) and "bastos" (trans: bastard). On second thought, they're really not used occasionally... they're being used frequently. -_-;;

Currently fabricating writing my experiment data for my science fair project. Damned mandatory extra-curricular competitions. But, on an interesting note, more mold has grown on the surface of the champagne than on the bread itself. Weird.

Apparently, while I was napping at noon, I was talking in my sleep. She heard: "If you kill Buddha, you'll get your money's worth." ...::blinks::

Was it just me, or was FOX turning the recent Columbia Disaster into a highly publicized event laced with terrorist subtext?

Had to take off the black nail polish for tomorrow's church-singing-ness. I'm contemplating putting on that chrome-blue one instead. Heheheh.

#1290. Gonna hit the next 100th entry very soon... and half of them are still inaccessible. Tch.