Currently watching a rather odd Japanese movie (starring BEAT Takeshi, so you know it's going to be an unusual movie). It's about this man who borrows mob money to pay for his dying wife's last wish: a trip to the beach. That, in turn, entangles him into the affairs of the mob.

The movie's actually ending right now, and the last scene consists of two lines by the wife, but the music and general acting gives it this calm sense of... wrongness.

Ah, two minutes later the violins are silenced as two gun shots are fired, but the married couple aren't on the screen since the camera had panned to look at the ocean.

Final shot: a girl staring forward holding a popsicle.

Not quite as unusual as Gohatto, but I liked the ending to this one better.

STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING. STOP ME I'M EATING.

... i hate my tendency to go completely off the deep end just when everything is looking up...

damn it all.

i have a perverse feeling that all my friends are ready to fall apart at the seams. the only thing keeping them together is a patch-job with electric tape, making sure no one else knows about their problems/bad habits, or they refuse to acknowledge anything due to sheer egotism.

i hate the fates.

You knew it was a long time coming: a nice, semi-lengthy survey (curteousy of of Steven ::smooch::).

Series one - General
-- Name: Chuck
-- Birthdate: Feb 2, 1986
-- Birthplace: Mandaluyang, Manila, Philippines
-- Current Location: Las Vegas, NV
-- Eye Color: black-brown
-- Hair Color: black-turning-brown
-- Righty or Lefty: ambi
-- Zodiac Sign: Aquarius w/ a Scorpio moon

series two - Describe
-- Your heritage: filipino, manchuria, portugese (?)
-- The shoes you wore today: uncomfortable "massage" shoes to help dad unload the van of groceries
-- Your hair: growing rather long; it's half an inch past my eyes now
-- Your eyes: brown-black eyes with some odd, natural eye-liner and really long lashes (makes my female friends jealous)
-- Your weakness: occasional bouts of hubris, general apathy, Ewan McGregor, pretty boys
-- Your fears: inadequacy
-- Your perfect pizza: pesto, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, but no tomato sauce
-- One thing you'd like to achieve: finding someone/ someway to break my current streak of apathy

series three ? What is:
-- Your most overused phrase on aim: "doo ti doo"
-- Your thoughts first waking up: "damn, what time is it?"
-- The first feature you notice in the SAME sex: I start with the eyes, then proceed to the lips and 'round the face in a clockwise fashion
-- Your best physical feature(s): um, my eyes? oh, and my lips for being rather "plump" (read: large)
-- Your bedtime: whenever I can get it
-- Your greatest accomplishment: surviving up to this point without delivering mass carnage... seriously? I have no way to gauge that yet, so check back in twenty years
-- Your most missed memory: innocence (which was gone by second grade, thank you very much Mrs. Rice)

series four - You Prefer
-- Pepsi or Coke: diet coke with lemon!
-- McDonald's or Burger King: heh, Jack in the Box
-- Single or group dates: single; it's not fun flaunting your "sig. o." infront of everyone else
-- Adidas or Nike: Vans :P
-- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: LIPTON, for the love of BOB!
-- Chocolate or vanilla: um... if you're talking in some sort of innuendo connotation, vanilla please
-- Cappuccino or coffee: anything that'll keep me wide-eyed for an extended period of time
-- Boxers or briefs: boxer briefs (please, no black ones)

series five - Do You
-- Smoke: naw, but I get the equivalent from all the incense in my room
-- Cuss: ::blinks:: um, yeah
-- Sing well: adequately
-- Take a shower everyday: two if I can manage it
-- Have a crush(es): the urge comes and goes
-- Who are they: um... let's save that for another rainy day
-- Do you think you've been in love: yes
-- Want to go to college: why not? shouldn't disappoint the parents more than I have already
-- Like high school: only because mine is deprived of a moral majority
-- Want to get married: erm... does there have to be a ceremony? I'm all for finding THE ONE and settling down, just to piss off straight people
-- Type w/ your fingers on the right keys: almost; I don't use my pinkies unless absolutely necessary
-- Think you're a health freak: despite my appreciation for tofu (and not soy-bean health products), I could care less
-- Get along with your parents: yep
-- Play an instrument: piano, guitar, voilin and cello (attempting at best), etc.

series six "in the past 3 months, did/have you"
-- Drank alcohol: just to taste, damn you!
-- Smoked: nope
-- Done a drug: not really
-- Made Out: I wish
-- Gone on a date: (see previous answer)
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos: ew... couldn't you mention something more appetizing?
-- Eaten sushi: oh yeah
-- Been on stage: yep
-- Been dumped: uh huh
-- Gone skating: ::winces:: sadly, yess
-- Made homemade cookies: call me Martha Stewart, bitches!
-- Gone skinny dipping: hah... no
-- Dyed your hair: blame the parents for the non-freaky hair
-- Stolen anything: from a store? 'course not. from the sib? 'course.

series seven - Have You Ever
-- Played a game that required removal of clothing?: yep
-- If so, was it mixed company: I plead the fifth
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: once
-- Been called a tease: only by the female friends after they realize that they've been pining after a gay guy
-- Gotten beaten up: does karate count?
-- Shoplifted: naw
-- Changed who you were to fit in: anything to survive the formative years, yo

series eight - The Future
-- Age you hope to be married: shoot me if I'm 30 and single
-- Numbers and Names of Children: aside from the ones that I'll be eating?... oh wait, I promised Marcy a brat
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: discrete, followed by a drunken orgy/fashion show reception where all my friends quake in fear
-- How do you want to die: fulfilled
-- Where you want to go to college: currently sifting out options, thank you very much
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: ideally I'd be making art (and love) all my adult life, but so far it's leaning towards the architect or graphic artist side
-- What country would you most like to visit: rome/italy and england since I don't have to learn a new language

series nine - SAME Sex
-- Best eye color? no preference, but grey or violet eyes get an extra nod
-- Best hair color? anything dark against pale skin... and natural red-heads are the sexiest thing imaginable
-- Short or long hair?: doesn't matter, as long as I can run my fingers through it
-- Best height: no preference really
-- Best weight: since I'm an idealist, anything between emo-thin and swimmer-build
-- Best articles of clothing: collared shirts and buttons
-- Best first kiss location: whenever/where ever appropriate

series ten - Number Of
-- Number of drugs taken illegally: ~
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: at the moment, 3
-- Number of people that would readily take my life: I can think of a few (mainly half of Arizona)
-- Number of CDs that I own: 50+
-- Number of piercing(s): I'm artificial-hole free
-- Number of tattoo(s): wouldn't know which one I'd like permanently, so none at the moment
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: school paper? multiple times. city paper? once.
-- Number of scars on my body: do I really have to make the effort and look?
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: numerous

Shii's Song ("the Boat Song" from Lunar)

::sniff:: Oh dear lordy, that was beautiful. Sis and I were thoroughly teary-eyed. And I feel sorry for (east-coast residing) Tyler since that was his song before he found out that his girlfriend was seeing someone else. ;_;

Spent today working on my inari (o)sushi cooking skills... and I suck completely. The rice didn't cook thoroughly and I let it sit too long so the insides ended up uncooked while the outsides were all mushy.

And frying the tofu pockets was completely useless.

Thus, I'll be singing (again) for my Japanese presentation tomorrow (eep).

Everyone and their comatose mother went to the mall today. Eep. I hate homework, I really do.

This entire weekend I haven't been able to get in touch with any of my friends. It's rather annoying, and I think I shall get all my friends cell phones for their end-of-the-year gift (hah, fat chance that).

In other news, the Pansy Division and JJ72 rock my world.

Chapter Two: The Crush-Induced Coming Out

Damn, I should have read that (or something like it) two years ago.

"Mr. and Mrs. Frank Lee Hetero cordially invite you to attend the BIG OL' HET-FEST at which you will witness approval, affection, and material posessions showered down upon their daughter while you stand outside with your nose pressed against the glass whimpering piteously."

(and thanks be to the Duck who supplied me with the article and an hour's worth of laughs)

I woke up this morning to a nice surprise: a nose bleed. It was 4am in the morning, and in a bit of a panic (I got a nice portion of my pillow covered in eviscera) rushed into the bathroom to get some kleenex and clean up. I got my pajamas stuck on the hinge of the door and it sent me falling backwards.

You've got to love rude awakenings.

Today I was suppose to work like mad on my history homework, but sis pissed me off right when I was feeling ready to kill someone (grandma and I were discussing/arguing the heroic merits of the POWs). So I went up to my room with the intention of cooling off, and instead I fell asleep.

Thus, I'm here.

Hm... if Prom wasn't so close to the horizon, I have a new person that I'm thinking of asking. But I've already promised to go with Haley (unless she makes it to the State Swim-Meet Finals), and he's probably going with someone else already. Damn.

I need to call people today and see what's up. Specifically the plans for tomorrow and whatnot.

Yep, no intellectual ramblings (yet) kiddies.

Ah... Jesus Christ.

Allow me one instance of happiness, and just five minutes later I'm hit with nice (::coughevilcough::) realizations:

People didn't want me to see pictures, and I made them uncomfortable? Damn, I was being an ass and I didn't even know it.

It seems like all my friends are in a bind lately. I hate the near-end of the month. We should all boycott the second-to-last week of each month to protest our treatment by lady luck/ the fates.

I have to start adding cream to my coffee. Right now my stomach feels like it's being scraped away with a spork. Evil evil digestive fluids. My stomach isn't suppose to become weak until college when I tire it out with loads of alcoholic tinctures.

Things are happening in rapid succession, and I haven't been able to keep up all this year. I need the summer to be here already so I can backtrack and settle some affairs.

Came home after a brief stop-over at Mervyn's (they were having a sale, and I'm in desperate need of more (black) shirts), and there was a message on the answering machine. The guy that left the message sounded like he was using pity to get us to use his floor-cleaning services. Either he really does need the job to keep his life afloat (in which case, I'm sorry but the house really doesn't need carpet cleaning... yet) or he's one hell of a persuasive speaker.

Dad thinks he called the wrong number.

I have issues with literature at the moment.

First off, I had a timed-writing test for The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn today, but a nice little thing called hunger kept me from concentrating. I know that I'll be recieving a decisively low score on that paper.

History essays? I'm not even touching those until the weekend.

At least I know that my writing skills are competent. My scores for the school district's writing proficiency test came back, and I scored perfectly for both essays. That's surprising, since writing isn't exactly my strong point.

I like math just a bit more. You have precision with math, you don't have to worry too much about composition.

All of my composition skills are best reserved for my artwork.

Speaking of, there's this nice competition for 17 and 18 year olds that I'll be entering pieces for. The lowest awarded (cash) prize is $1000, and if I win the Best of the Category (Visual Arts) I'll be pocketing $30000. Can't wait, but that means I have to make some more slides to submit. Blech.

I'm sorry, but Barto needs to stop reading Rand. It's not that he was an egocentric philosopher before reading The Fountainhead; it's that he now feels the need to be garrulous, much like Ms. Rand's writing, while executing a "moral" tirade. The boy just won't shut up. And it's rather irritating.

"Is it not enough that I exist? Does the statement of my being not prove my emotion? Is the awesomeness of my existence not proof of the greatness that resides in all men? Am I not? I am. That is all that one needs know - it is the truest, most powerful statement that one can make."

See? I hate it when people have to point out truths that are integral to the entire human race.

I must serve my penance. I think a week of fasting would suffice?

Are you the one? Someone who could make me feel better than myself?

It's an insane notion, I know. People aren't suppose to feel an instant magnetic pull from another person. That stuff only happens in fairy tales. But sometimes I wonder if it really could happen in the real world. Sometimes, like when we spoke for hours, it seemed like the world really wasn't such a bad place.

Even now, as I sit typing this on the computer, I can feel a warmth across my face. I'm completely flushed, and it's been several hours since we last spoke.

But I must confess that I cannot fulfill your wishes. I'm not in the least bit mentally (and emotionally) prepared for something so simultaneously exciting and terrifying. Walls and forts still need to be built, and preconceived notions still need to be torn down.

Just thinking about it upsets my stomach a bit... but in a good way, I guess.

Yet I must confess: I don't want to be burned again. I don't want to be burned ever, for the rest of my life. So please, if you want to try anything further, don't make promises that you refuse to keep. Don't deliver secrets which were entrusted to you.

And please, I implore you, do not tell anyone else about this. Not another soul.

People's Passion is playing at the moment. Basically, the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ in Interperative Dance and Experimental Song... what the hell?! Even for me, this is a bit much. Especially with the Jesus in a sheer white top that looks like Joey Lopez with a slightly fairer face and wearing enough rouge to put a Sephora to shame.

"I cannot wife, His sentence stays, as Herod said, one more death, won't change the course of His-tory. And yet... (and yet)... And yet (and yet)... I hear the truth he said."

Imagine this sung by a Pilate that looks like a British butler and his wife who looks a tad bit like Margaret Thatcher.

Did I mention the presence of a chorus and choragus? Since when did the Easter story become a Greek Tragedy?

Although, the Kabuki-esque staging of the Japanese JCSS was very well done.

Mmm... an entire day spent doing absolutely nothing. I wonder if I should be greatful or disappointed. Massive homework which I've put off for all of this week.

Better Than Chocolate is playing at the moment. Always a wonderful movie to watch.

The mental images sketchbook is looking... decent. Now that I've been working with oils for a bit, I miss being able to blend incessantly. And I need better acrylics; these watery bottles aren't opaque enough to layer with. Sigh... paints are far too expensive.

"Dionysus" is currently drying so that first layer of oil paint won't scrape off while I'm scumbling on top.

I need to start designing some new outfits for this fall's Fashion Show. Aiming for ten outfits to be made.

Currently feeling an over-lying sense of dread about that scholarship. Don't think that I'll be getting it anytime soon. Then again, that's normal for most people to feel, right?

Went 'round the neighborhood for the development's quarterly yardsales. Walked away with some nice fabric, an antique dress with pretty ruffles, and a laquer fish sculpture to be used as an incense holder.

Last night's Passion Play was better than I thought it would be. Honestly, I sounded like shite. But, one of the advantages of being the only tenor, not one could tell that I was off pitch. Apparently, some people were quite pitchy according to dad. Since I had zero monitor by me, I couldn't tell.
. . . . .
Hey Sarah, you're right. It isn't funny at all. Currently feeling disgusted with myself for an excessively caulous comment said before the performance.

It's great that you're boyfriend doesn't have anything wrong with him!

I need a life.

Today I slept for, literally, half of the day. Not the best thing to do when half of your Spring Break has passed.

But I got the most sleep today than the occasional nap of Tuesday and Wednesday. Yep, I didn't sleep for more than two hours those past days.

I've been painting for the past hour while sis' watching Harry Potter behind me.

Now I have a tongue covered in red acrylic and a painting that I'm only marginally satisfied with. Urgh.

I hate black oil paint. It refuses to stay in its respective places. Now half of the face is muddy and I'll have to redo the entire section.

Woke up to discover six new paper cuts on my fingers (one for each on the right hand and another on the left pinky).

Aerin was visiting yesterday, and since I had to go to choir practice and all, I couldn't mo-lest him like everyone wants me to. Tch.

I've been trying to contact friends, but events keep on interfering.

Overall, it's been rather disappointing.

Finally caught last night's episode of Buffy. I had to download it since my idiot VCR only recorded half of it.

All I can say is: holy. shite. Or "It's about damn time!"

Albeit the whole evil-priest thing has been done to death (pun completely intended), Caleb takes the cake.

The Buffy forums (or at least the non-spoiler ones at Buffyguide.com) are having a massive aftershock of ideas about what the hell is going on.

Personally, I like the fact that all of Buffy's plans and confidence has been de-limed, if not completely quartered. Just like how I loved it when Dawn was completely un-glorified during "Talking With Dead People."

But what cruel torture, making the masses wait one week extra for the next installment.

Uh oh.

This is what I've been working on all night long:



You've got to love the golden ground-layer.

Middle of painting that portrait (at an ungodly hour, I know, I know) I get this wicked crick in my neck. So, I popped it like I normally do.

Big mistake? I've been dizzy ever since. Either that, or the ghost sitting on my right shoulder is being a pest.

Regardless, I think that that's a sign to sleep. G'night.

Indulging in one more post and then I'm capping this subject for another month:

ART AND ALCHEMY: A REVIEW OF EILEEN TABIOS' MY ROMANCE

Two other Filipino American artists are included in the book: Paul Pfeiffer and Stephanie Syjuco. In the chapter on Pfeiffer, Eileen hints at the politics of the art world itself, by showing how Pfeiffer, a Filipino American artist, morphed into non-ethnic identity once he won a major art award and became a celebrity. Such morphing, however, is not the artist's own doing, but of the art world itself. Thus Eileen recuperates the Filipino identity of the artist to obviate such imposed invisibility. Likewise, Syjuco's works are read by Eileen as addressing and contesting homogenization - a danger that we are all at risk of.

Been looking around at some Asian-American Artists groups since I'm just waiting for the oil paint to set a bit more.

I'm a bit envious of people with Chinese descent. Filipinos don't have as much of an impact on American culture as the Chinese-Americans are. Hell, only recently LA officially named a portion of the city Filipinotown.

A majority of Filipinos that I know are apathetic towards their own cultural and personal identities. It disturbs me how easily we strive to assimilate the prevailing culture. Take, for instance, all the pinoy who listen to rap music and reflect that culture and that particular value system.

Sister and I were raised in nice, white-suburban Arizona (where the only families of color, oddly enough, lived on the same street in my old neighborhood) so we've developed into a bourgeosie(?) mindset. Hell, I didn't even realize that I was different from the other little kiddies till I came to Vegas and realized that not everyone acted "white."

But as I was saying, Chinese Americans are the most well-established of the (rather largely categorized) Asian-American minorities. Their daughters and sons lead the pluralistic movements which strive to give all Asians a voice in public opinion. They have a culture steeped in tradition and heritage. Ancestry to be traced into the past two millenia.

My family? We can only remember the death to the end of the 19th century. One of the advantages of being an "uncivilized" culture.

What upsets me the most, however, is that I cannot think of anything that I am truly proud of with Filipino culture in general. I grew up in it, and acceptance of the different types of foods and celebrations almost comes as an obligation. But there was no understanding as to "why" I accepted these set of values. I can identify with other Filipinos (go ethnic jokes!) but I don't FEEL filipino.

And looking at current pop-culture in that country, I don't see anything that I would like to claim as my own. From what I can gather, it's all about singing ballads, ripping-off American chart-toppers, outrageous use of eye candy (::coughG-Girlscough::) to maintain viewer interest, and many attempts to be more American.

It's fine for the individual to wish to be more like something else, but it becomes a farce when an entire population strives to be something that they're not. Take for instance, the popularity of Castelian in Spain when that family took the throne. Or wide-spread use of shoulderpads during the 80's.

Although... technically I can claim my Manchurian heritage. Great grandmothers on both paternal and maternal sides were full-blood chinese, so I'm not as Filipino as I was led to believe.

It's just a gigantic mess.

Psychology reasons that the persona, or personality, is the composite of all the identities one must play: the brother, the artist, the son, the student, etc. If that's the case, I need to reconcile this arena of my life before being able to fully live my potential.

Brain. Is. Dead.

G'night.

So, to add to the whole spontaneous, coffee-induced entry babbling, fwah.

Watched IT Factor: Los Angeles on Bravo last night. They had that one actor guy who played Jeffery Dahmer in... well, Dahmer. It was rather funny; he has this small dog that lives in his apartment, but the dog got out and left a mess in the hallway. And, while going out to look at/clean it, he locks himself out of his apartment.

They had a three-part program about Chinese-American history and culture on PBS recently. I watched a lot of it, and the program was very insightful. And now I finally understand why so many Asian parents want their kids to become doctors or lawyers:

"If you can save their lives or get them out of a law suit, they won't care what color you are!"

So very true.

Finally making progress with my piano pieces. Spring break was definitely well needed; now that I have some breathing time I'm more or less uncoiling. Calves still hurt, but at least I'm uncoiling.

Hm... sign of sheer boredom: playing FFX to a total of 200+ hours. But now all the characters are superhuman; all of their stats are at maximum (including their luck stats, which are the hardest to increase) and I did it all without the aid of a Game Genie. I'm so bored/good/pathetic!

So, which is more apropos for painting a portrait of Dionysus to: Amadeus, Dahmer, or Baby's Day Out?

Me: It's so breezy today.

Sis: Yep. And look! The clouds are all in nice little shapes.

Me: Nice?

Sis: Yeah. Like that one that looks like a race car or
something.

Me: Oh that one. It looks like a penis.

Sis: ... You've ruined it for me, you do know that. I can't look over in that direction anymore!

Me: Well, don't look out my window; there's a uterus attacking a squid... Or the other way around.

Sis: Ew... dude, shut up.

Calfs still sore/cramping.

Listening to Phantom Planet. Well, not just listening. I have the good ol' electric next to me, and am attempting to play along. The tabs I got for the songs (namely "Lonely Day") aren't all that awesome (or accurate) so I'm feeling a bit swindled.

Speaking of, Ash is headlining a tour of the US! One problem, they're not coming to Las Vegas. Damn... I wanna see my Ash play here, dammit! I don't want to see them while stuck in that rather lathargic crowd of Coldplay fans (not to disregard Coldplay, but they're type of music requires a concert with seats). People, "Jesus Says" needs to be moshed to!

Sprayed some masonite gold in the backyard today since I need to finish that painting that I kinda... um, slashed into repeatedly. At least it's not on a canvas, otherwise it'll never be salvagable(?). You've got to love that nice, Byzantine ground showing through.

I have a date for Prom. Well, a friend date (again). Hopefully it won't be like Winter Formal of this year.

Wendy: "Yeah, I had to tell all my friends that my date to Winter Formal was complaining the entire time that he didn't have a MAN to dance with!"

Looks like I'll be wearing the same get-up from that dance for this one too. Hey, if anyone's interested, I'm taking candidates for next year's prom date. Any takers?

Submitted my scholarship application for the RISD pre-college program. Hopefully my dad's salary won't knock me out of the possible candidates. But watch, I still get a partial scholarship for my talent. Well, if you could call $20 a scholarship.

I should probably start doing actual school work (which I am, if you count the painting) but at least food's not being a bothersome issue.

Three ducks were having a threeway by the lake again. Flashbacks of late-8th Grade. ::shudder::

And no, Flavey, that one time did NOT count! If I can't remember anything, then it isn't worth the tally.

Am I making any sense anymore? Tendency to babble on and on...

I'll stop.

Just a few random thoughts:

The new Christina Aguilera video is awesome. The song is awesome. But the video and the song at the same time... no; they're far too different. However, it's nice to see that Malice-Mizer-esque music videos are slowly trickling into the US mainstream. You've got to love the Madonna's-Vogue-esque baroque outfit as she's stuck onto the wall.

Ever since the demise of Smashing Pumpkins, I've been hard-pressed to find really artistic music videos. But recently they've been getting better. Like AFI's newest video (live action with an actress donning a scary, full-head Rei mask) that continue's STP's tradition of freaky yet cute midget creatures of death.

(side note: Sarah Michelle Gellar was awesome in the "Sour Girl" video)

Pulled out the old DDR pad today. Definitely rusty; my legs aren't as fast as they were six months ago. And, to twist the knife a bit harder, my legs cramped up in the middle of the session, so I didn't achieve my goal. Erch.

I'm surprised that people haven't realized that cannibalism was common-place in pre-history. Go Neil Gaiman.

Re-read Ender's Game to spite sis (she needs to read it for her American Lit. class). Caught on several things that I didn't realized the first time around. Now I have to go get the rest of the series thus far.

At Borders, where I bought a(nother) sketchbook, the latest issue of Art in America, and Mark Merlis' An Arrow's Flight (more on the book later), the lady at the counter gave me this bizarre look and told me that I was going to recieve a special surprise and slipped something in the bag. Um...sure. Later, I look inside and it's a Las Vegas Firemen calendar.

At least I finally got a new calendar to replace the Jude Law one. Ah, the memories.

So anyway, today I spent most of my time reading. Finished up Ender's Game (a measly 50 pages left) and am now deeply entrenched in An Arrow's Flight. The book is awesome. Basically, the story should take place during ancient Greece (the story is about Achilles' son, Pyrrhus) but instead it's set in a modern-day Troy a la San Francisco.

"The difference between a prince and the rest of us isn't, of course, the palace and the money. It's that, when a prince is asked what he's going to be when he groes up, he doesn't ahve to fumble for a reply...

Not that Pyrrhus was supposed to be idle. He was exp[ected to master a set of accomplishments of certified inutility: swimming, swordplay, hunting, siring a bastard with the garderner's daughter. The usual diversions of the rural gentry... Worse, as he came of age, he tended to disappear for long intervals, not with the garderner's daughter but with the chauffeur's son."

page 21

Effing hilarious.

Jeezy Chreezy, I think half of my friends suffer from nihilism, and the other half are figments of my own imagination. o.0

In other news, everyone should be happy for Karen! It's her First One Hundred Days today... erm, yesterday?

I want to be more like Ender. Or Bean even. Eh, yeah, Bean would definitely be better. Or Leto II.

And for the love of all things secular, PLEASE DO NOT PREACH TO ME, YOU MINDLESS IDIOT!

If I need a lesson in living my life, I'd trust Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul to teach me more than you could with your inflexible standards.

People accuse me of being picky... yeesh.

Yeah, today hasn't been the peachy day it definitely wasn't going to be.

"I could tell from the minute that I woke up that it's going to be another lonely, lonely lonely day."
-Phantom Planet (swoon!)

On a completely inappropriate tangent: the roses that grow in the backyard do not become fragrant until after they start decaying.

They're fertilizing the front law of school, so the entire bottom hall of Main building (aka. the Art hallway) wreaks. Luckily Adrienne plucked a rose from the Knapp quad area and let me sniff it all class long so I wouldn't have to smell the stench. Blech.

Karen pointed out that a vein in my right eye had ruptured.

Damn... I hate stress.

"You see, you don't act like the bad-gays; you're a good-gay. Like, how I can't stand (insert name here) because he's just annoying, but you're not annoying.

... I still hate you and Matt and Christine for being obnoxious during the post-Linkin Park driving."

-Crystal

... even though that event was almost a year ago. Yeesh, it's been over a year already? Well, the old saying was true after all: bad habits die hard.

Aw crap, too late to do the whole Day of Silence thing.

I hate it when I'm so overwhelmed that the outside world just doesn't matter anymore.

And on a side note: people who believe that they have human nature pinned down, and are able to conform it into one neat maxim, should be shot.

The funny thing about human nature is that there really isn't one specific type (hah! look! I should be shot!). If people point out these so-called truths, they deprive others of the learning experiences needed to not only discover them for themselves, but to cement such a concept into their minds.

Anything not learned from experience will definitely never be a fully understood concept.

Now to add to my further hypocrisy with another saying: to be a hypocrit is to be human.

Blech. Christine and I had an entire discussion about that subject before science fair (we were waiting inside the lounge area of the UNLV library talking... and coincidentally the only other people in that area were couples) and we agreed that people are too analytical.

Not that there's anything wrong with being analytical (or anal-retentive for that matter) since digesting information like statistics requires immense thought.

However... when it comes to arenas of abstract and philosophical thought, it's best to just leave it the hell alone. Or at least not mention it and avoid appearing like an over-bearing asshole.

And yes, I'm referring to one specific asshole. No, it's not the one everyone thinks he is (although that particular boy fits the asshole mold in another fashion).

But these are just my opinions.

Goddamn coffee... I should just skip the teeth-staining two-pot night sessions and invest in caffiene pills or injections.

Evil evil evil Fauvism. Thank lordy that movement died off quickly.

And I have oil pastel. Specifically my oil pastel piece. You know, the one that's effing huge with a subject matter that I could care less about. Yeah, that one.

At least my scholarship application is filling out nicely. All I need to do now is get a copy of dad's last paycheck (easy enough since he pays himself) and decide whether to stuff everything into a business envelope or get one of those full-page manila packets.

"There's always decisions."

It was grandma's 79th birthday today. We had the uncle and family (sans Joe) come over to eat, watch Iron Chef reruns, and laugh/ridicule American Idol. I was in my room most of the time working on that stupid Huckleberry Finn painting for english.

Enough rambling for one night. I should stop right here.

Grr... definitely not happy at the moment.

I have everything all nice and set for the Balfour scholarship... except a damned copy of the family's 1040 tax form for 2002. Damned technicalities.

My eye feels as if it's being perpetually pushed inward. It's been like that since Science Fair.

Couple of good things I forgot to mention:

1) Fashion show was moved to November so my stress level has evened out (now I can make more clothes!)

2) I've been working on my application for the Balfour scholarship for this summer program at RISD. All I need is my family's tax information and I'm set to turn it in.

(on a side note: the damned essay wouldn't print at school so I had to send it to myself and print at home. tch)

(second side note: I need to get my tax forms done pronto)

3) Spring break is all of next week (yay!). I get to do oodles of Passion Play rehearsals beforehand and suffer the celluloid-fueled-wrath of choir director Didi (boo!) all of next week.

4) Piano is finally going well. Took it several months, but I managed)

5) The ACT people finally sent my permit letter, so I get to test the ACT this Saturday with sis (eh... kinda yay?)

(on another side note: while testing for the SAT at the same location, I spied Brad from my Confirmation class: the one that resembles Freddie Prince Jr. with a smaller forehead. Swoon.)

Right, back to the music.

It's a little past 11pm at the moment, and I've had so much time to actually work on all the homework I should be tackling. I've been complaining for weeks (months?) on end that I have too much stuff to do, and now I finally have a bit of breathing room.

So what am I doing at the moment? Searching for Japanese emo songs. Yes ladies and gents, JAPANESE EMO. And it actually exists. And it's actually good. Scout's honor.

Went to school today. I really didn't have to. Today, only the sophomores attended school to take their proficiency tests. The non-proficient juniors and seniors came as well. Why did I go to school? There was an AP review session for history, and we took a mock-AP test. I scored a low five! Which means that if my essays aren't shite, I can manage a high composite score easily!

Was shocked by all the information I managed to retain.

Afterwards went to art and made a general mess while working on my oil pastel piece. Damned textured ground... I swear, working 32" x 40" with a medium that I do not like is hazardous for the environment. I ended up sweeping the pastel shavings from the floor with a large brush since the broom was indisposed (the janitors stole it), and then washing the area over with turpentine so I could really get the little buggers off of the linoleum. Newspaper's the way to go, kiddos.

Also had some interesting food. During a break in the review session, I went and bought a diet Coke and a caesar chicken pesto sandwhich. For being school-bought, it was rather good. Kloster was surprised that I could down the whole thing in under five minutes. Hah, she should see me at a buffet.

At least I don't have anything concrete due tomorrow. Just another busy (innane?) session of taking notes, followed by some slacked classtime in Japanese, then the more so lax Physics class (and he's teaching Calculus AP next year? ech) followed by the oil pastel goodness of Art!

Randy was going hypoglycemic yesterday in Japanese and went out during the middle of class to by a Dr. Pepper so his hand would stop shaking. Then he tried to talk me into wearing a big sumo wrestler outfit so we could do a skit together. Um... how about not?

Tried instead to sing a song from the Koko wa Greenwood vocal collection, but I couldn't remove the singing track successfully.

So instead, I plan to sing some J-Emo. Isn't it nice that I can make things so circuituous?

::bites lip:: Ladies and gentlemen, Phantom Planet is definitely rock-n-fuck-able. Absolutely goregous; the music sounds like something I'd write (at least the lyrics) and it's perfect at this hour of the night, or at any other time.

I think I'm in lust with the CD. Mmph!

This place needs a new redesign. I'm getting sick of the massive (but still very lickable) Will Kemp image.

In other news: someone actually made a techno-remix of the song "Ducks In." Um... rubby duckies on acid trips? Yeppers.

Damn this busy-ness. I wanna go jump off a cliff and attempt to use my flab as a glider.

Ech... had loads of nice, thick, chunky meatiness for lunch. Yeah, it's a late lunch. Still, the stomach is battling backwards. Urgh.

In other news: Soup Kitchen Volunteers Hate College-Application-Padding Brate. Hells yes! I'd love to see half of the people in NHS (and several other people that I could name) read this and quake with fear!... or at least feel some guilt. Anyways, you've gotta love the Onion.

SATs are hell.

I won't be able to do the ACTs next weekend since online registration botched up my mailing stuff... urge! I'll have to wait for the mid-summer date then.

Let me just state this for the record: practically all art teachers are very perverse, bizarre, or both. Today I stayed after so I could get info about the upcoming fashion show (I hate trashbags, by the way) and in the middle of the meeting I was working on a portrait of Bacchus for this thursday's assignment.

Well... Cookie's normal enough (she's just older so she doesn't feel like being too eccentric), but Michaels and Anderson are something else. Post fashion-show meeting, art club was trying to write the story for the benefit coloring book we drew to give to the familys over at Shade Tree. One topic led to another... and eventually we had Mary Sue going to the circus and witnessing dog-on-dog action, magical paper you put on your tongue, a bear on a unicycle whose legs don't reach the pedals, and sperm-like balloons. Keep in mind, all these images had already been drawn. We just needed to write the lil story.

Halfway through that meeting, I decided that I hated my portrait (go chunky acrylic paint) so I took a knife to it and started scraping off layers. It ended up looking like a Francis Bacon painting. Yip.

Still need to finish gridding my oil pastel onto my matte board. And I have to finish my social movement project for Sociology. Blech.

All is rot. Pip pip cheerio.