Same-sex marriages. My two cents.

Personally, I think that fighting for same-sex marriages is a great goal. Especially since the entire gay rights movement have finally found an issue to focus on (can we remember the very vague goals established when people fought for federal punishments for hate crimes?).

One question: Doesn't that marginalize some gays even more? What about the people who don't want to be monogamous or in emotionally involving relationships at all? How would gender-queer people identify themselves in the eye of the law?

Conservatives should look at same-sex marriages as a chance to normalize this "sub culture." By allowing same-sex marriages (and subsequently allowing same-sex couples to start families), they would be promoting the equally conservative values of monogamy. People who still cling to the old subculture of clubbing, drug use, and promiscuity would be cast further into the fringes of society.

Learn a thing or two from the methods of the Catholic Church: assimilation ensures your perpetuating existence. You really think that Easter marked the exact date of the Resurrection? Try the old fertility festival for Ester of the Dawn. Sure, the pope probably had to pull his hair a couple of times before making a decision like that, but it reeled in a lot of the Celts and the Norns.

On a much lighter note, saw The Last Man on Earth on the Scifi Channel recently. One of the best quotes in the entire movie from a female FBI officer to a female scientist:

Officer: You mean you...?
Scientist: Yes.
Officer: Wow. A closet hetero.
Scientist: You don't think it's wrong?
Officer: In my line of work, I see all sorts of things.

Haha. Funny.

Also discovered the wonderful writings of James Morrow's Towing Jehovah and Only Begotten Daughter. It's like Good Omens all over again. Catholic satire at it's best.

Speaking of, the choir season is starting early this year. Time to break out those vocal chord exercises again.

. . . . . posted:||9:09 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You know that you're almost about to pass out when you're painting your lips with the last of the coffee and some red gouache mixed together (because the two match perfectly; gouache has a naturally sweet taste) and looking at anything resembling something from Doogie Howser makes you want to vomit.

I need a big load of happy.

On the plus side, that means that everyone else is happy. Go them.

note to self: never engage in combative conversation with the grandma while on a severe, nerve-twitching coffee buzz

It's quickly turning into one of those "I give up on everything" days.

Dammit, happy, get your ass over here!

. . . . . posted:||6:44 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Here's to another relationship... bombed by my excellent breed of gamete disease... Maybe when I'm older I'll know what that means..."

And then:

"La fille danse... Quand elle joue avec moi... Et je pense que je l'aime des fois... Le silence, n'ose pas dis-donc... Quand on est ensemble... Mettre les mots... Sur la petite dodo."

Probably butchered all of the above.

Again going with the theme from yesterday. Damien Rice, anyone?

I'm all numb inside my intestines and lungs and spinal chord and all other major organs of various body systems. I'm blaming you for that one, Tyler.

"Kimi wa boku no ichiban seme da."


Note to self: if you're going to be a heartless romantic, never ever spill your guts to anyone. No matter how understanding they may seem. It always comes 'round to bite you in the end.

And no, not even a tiny bit of gut spillage.

I've decided that there are too many Tylers in the world, just as there are too many Matts, Mikes, Adams, Wills, Stevens (of the male and female gender), Joes, Sams, and Halleys (again, of both genders).

Now people have to be referred to as "Karen's Steve" or "Emily's Will" and "nympho Halley" as opposed to "sophomore Halley". Hard to keep track of all of these people.

Not to mention the vast potential for identity mistakes.

The watercolor never made it to the acrylic stage. I ended up forgiving the gouache (blaming the horrid Olsen twins show that my cousin had on while I was working) and started anew with the watercolor. It's coming along just fine... but why the hell do watercolor paintings look like vomit splashes when you get within two feet of them?

Hm... Naw. Won't say that. Part of the non-gut-spillage policy I recently adapted.

G'night... erm, morning? Yes.

. . . . . posted:||4:50 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The watercolor, in the course of half an hour, has evolved from a watercolor into a gouache and will soon become an acrylic.

Screw going realistic with watercolor. I don't have the patience nor the speed/skill to pull it off.

At least (Karen's) Steve looks good in it.

. . . . . posted:||3:34 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Spent several hours prepping up the big ol' watercolor that I'll be working on sparingly for the next two weeks. The other painting (had to use the liquid airbrush acrylic since the tubes are embedded in the mess known as my room) looks like it'll end up in the trash. Ho hum.

Recently, I haven't been able to get enough of scruffy boys with smokey voices strumming strings. Currently Nick Drake is playing, but before him there was Damien Rice ("Cannonball" has been on repeat for hours at night), Holcombe Waller (who should get that new CD out sometime soon!), Loudon Wainwright III, his son Rufus (who's strings are piano, not guitar), Bob Dylan, John Mayer, Jason Mraz, and the few acoustic tracks my friend recorded for me.

Makes me wish I appreciated those guitar lessons. Dad's overzealous encouragement and drive for me to learn guitar taught me otherwise.

Even though power chords rock my world. Ah, the summer of 2001 and my attempts at being in a band.

In other news, sis got a copy of the Battle Royale: Special Edition (the Korean one) that she had ordered off of EBay. It's wonderful to see all the gore in the minute detail that it initially deserved. The new scenes (especially the Requiems at the end) were too much.

... Watch out. Soon I'll be talking about the cinematography and color filters and then I'll end up sounding like Mike or Blake.

But I have to admit that Project: Greenlight (this time 'round) is rather cool.

Think I should get me some sleep now. Yep. Wish I could be like Tyler and go for half a day without sleep... but then I would be bored out of my mind.

Scratch that, I'd be too occupied to be bored by all the work I should get to finishing. Or I'd be busied trying to find ways to procrastinate further. Like sleeping.

Oh, that sounds rather nice....

. . . . . posted:||5:44 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You are an Azn Raver!
You know how to rave and
break, and you do it with style! You can easily
destroy anyone else in a battle, rave or break.
Are you a raver?

Oh god... And this is purely from giving honest answers...

Simplistic Pessimist
A little sick of people telling you to cheer up... aren't we?
Yeah, so... Your life sucks. Other people suck. You're just
a normal everyday pessimist. Actually... that's pretty good.
You don't know what to think about the world but you get
a negative feeling from other people and often sit alone.
You probably have a few close friends... One thing is for
sure: you are your own person. GOOD FOR YOU! Don't go
with the crowd!
What kind of pessimist are you?

Hah. Great.

You're a Leprechaun!! Haha..SHORTIE!
How Irish are you??

::blinks:: Right-o.

I think that's enough for tonight. That and sis is jealous that I can shave my legs better than she can.

(but she got back at me for pointing out how naturally feminine my hair tends to grow/position itself)

. . . . . posted:||3:42 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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starseiya : tired?
HikariHerrsek : among other things
starseiya : bad other things?
HikariHerrsek : mm hm
starseiya : poo
starseiya : people should be happy when I'm happy
starseiya : and happy when I'm sad
starseiya : but it always ends up being the other way around
HikariHerrsek : ...and happy any time?
starseiya : yep
starseiya : usually there's no one to be happy with me
starseiya : can get quite lonerly

. . . . . posted:||12:54 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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That loverly bout of oddity has now passed.

Spent a good twenty minutes fucking up Karen's portrait (again) so for the past hour I've been watching The Wedding Banquet (inwardly laughing at all the traditions that are similar to my family's weddings) and sketched some thumbnails for possible watercolors.

So far, very promising.

I get to eat pho again today. Go me.

. . . . . posted:||6:05 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Just deleted the several paragraphs I had typed down because I know that all of that ranting and raving is sad.

And I don't want to incriminate myself just yet.

... stupid cute fellow art major who's into buffy and xander and Rules of Attraction...

I deserve to be set afire with a thousand matches at the moment. But I'll settle for two lighters and a cup of coffee.

It's time to sleep.

. . . . . posted:||2:30 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Cannonball" - Damien Rice

Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
Still a little hard to say what's going on

Still a little bit of your ghost your witness
Still a little piece of your faceI haven't kissed
You step a little closer to me
StillI can't see what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball

Still a little bit of your song in my ear
Still a little bit of your wordsI long to hear
You step a little closer each day
So close thatI can't see what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannon

Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to cry
So come on courage!
Teach me to be shy
'Cause it's not hard to fall
AndI don't want to scare her
It's not hard to fall
AndI don't wanna lose
It's not hard to grow
When you know that you just don't know

(from the Damien Rice - Lyrics page)

This song never ceases to send waves down my spine.

. . . . . posted:||2:25 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Walked down to the local Walgreens and got myself a Diet Coke w/ Lemon, some filters, and one of those cheap lighters since they didn't have any that looked good.

Then walked around the lake again, stopping for a bit on the stone benches by the harbor gazing at stars. Holy shite, I could actually see stars tonight! And the big dipper was right infront of me too. Wonderful.

I think I've found a new workout routine.

. . . . . posted:||10:56 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I have many urges to steal the car and drive down to Cafe Roma (before it closes for the night) or the local Hamburger Mary's (hopefully it won't be over-18 night again).

One of the many reasons why: the opening theme to... whateverthehell kind of anime is on the tv is high pitched and as annoying as a bunny dump on your head.

. . . . . posted:||9:32 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh holy hell.

Sis just dubbed my music "songs to swing ass to."

She's more or less right. You can so swing your ass to Sugarcult.



I really should have tried for that Blogathon thing today.

It would've kept me occupied for some time.

Goddamn my cousin (again) for his addiction to the Cartoon Network, the Olsen Twins, and Hillary Duff.

Although... seeing so many episodes of Jackie Chan Adventures is a (small) fringe benefit.

Feeling oh so much better now than I did earlier when I ate that big ol' piece of cake and didn't do anything about it later on. Damn the people who popularized the term "self esteem!"

Ack. Loads of anger. Save it for art, save it for art...

. . . . . posted:||9:17 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I like sleeping in odd places. Earlier yesterday I woke up underneath the coffee table, and today I had to go take a rest after grandma made me queasy.

Since cousin was sprawled on the couch in the family room, I went to go take a refresher nap in the living room. Put on some loverly Damien Rice, and tried to get comfortable on the couch... but it couldn't be done.

So I grabbed one of the more comfortable pillows and curled up behind the couch right next to the wall and draperies. Woke up about an hour later (the cd had almost finished) and oddly no one noticed me. Hm.

Woke up and found out that my dad just won an argument with grandma about her reluctance to use the brand new dishwasher. Now I can use the dishwasher with only verbal insistances and evil glares from my grandma (as opposed to her physically blocking me from using the appliance that we paid some thousand dollars of possible college-fund but wouldn't have even touched).

Made another big ol' playlist with every single punk, emo, alt. rock, and electroclash song I have with the full intention of listening to it... and that's once again proving to be impossible since the family is watching Armageddon on the big TV (rather loudly).

Oh, all the trouble I've been going to just to secure a lighter. I think I'll walk down to the local Walgreens to buy one. Grrness.

. . . . . posted:||8:22 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Currently my usual annoyance (grandma) has now become seething and loathing for my other cousin (the one that's staying for another month).

I could rant and rave here, but I doubt anyone would be interested in his hatefully bratty and Yugioh-loving ways.

(accidently posted this on Sarah's blog. oops)

. . . . . posted:||8:05 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Restraining the urge to say something very Tori Amos. Specifically Tori Amos in the intro she wrote for that Death special comic. Like something interestingly odd about spelling words backwards and knowing that it'll make me feel better.

Oh wait. It's the coffee that's taking my headache away. Cheers, mate.

Ever tried Google-ing or Picsearch-ing your name and see what odd pictures turn up? I did that today. Apparently, old men and aging hipsters are named Chuck. I turned up more good looking people named Charles.

Ah. Care packages will take on new meanings now.

... I really have nothing else to say at the moment that's worth mentioning...

Oh! Tyler and Em like my short story (from some odd reason) even though it's not finished and is still all sorts of badness.

I should delete that last part. Thought about it. Yeah. Um... yeah.

I fully blame Tyler for pushing me in this direction but... The Creatures in My Head. Heh. Marcy and Adrienne think that my random creatures are weird? Well, going from Adam's ear to a mantis-esque flamingo is a bit odd... but still. This guy takes the cake.

Nothing better for a headache than a night of Ewan McGregor (Nora is playing at the moment) and several cups of coffee.

. . . . . posted:||12:25 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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you ARE jrock!
If you were any more JRock, you'd really be a Jrocker!
Move to Japan, they'd love your Jrock ability.
I bow to you!
J-rock quiz - Are you Jrock?

Well, that explains the pleather pants, numerous feather boas, the sparkley make up and nail polish (which I never use unless I go as a glam rocker during halloween), and my skills on guitar. Hah, right. Still, coolness.

Hm... I'll have to hunt down more quizzes to really make this post result-worthy.

. . . . . posted:||3:19 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
That's it. After waking up this morning with a wicked stomach ache and somehow finding myself asleep underneath the coffee table (which is pretty impressive since said table is only two-thirds of my height long)... I'm abstaining from eating Cheetos and/or Pringles.

I'll resort to my usual ice-cube munching to relieve nervousness.

It's my maternal grandma's birthday today. We're cooking noodles (for long life), and fat-free birthday cake. Um, yay?

Karen's back! Karen's back! Yeah, happy.

My lil cousin Taylor and aunt are visiting at the moment. Taylor's too damn smart for being only two years old.

There's a massive rain/thunderstorm outside, and I feel like almost getting struck by lightning. Like Doug.

Tyler needs some nice, Exploding Dog happiness. At least, I think that's what's up. Or he's being his Don Quixote self again and helping out one of his four non-fuckhead friends.

Feel like cleaning my room today. And mom did something unforgivable... she changed my sheets so now it's the old (crappy) floral ness.

. . . . . posted:||11:53 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Aw crap. I smell like ashes at the moment. No subtle, rose-scented smokey-ness for me.

The basil and lime sorbet is steadily thickening in the freezer.

I've been literally beating the urge to eat something out of myself for the past hour. Don't need to go eat something just because you had to taste the effing recipe, fucker. Nononono. Not at all.

Man, where's a Tyler when you need one? Now who'll be my gourmet whore?

Things have become increasingly odd. Not much else to say about that before I sound completely batty.

I think now's a good time to shut up.

. . . . . posted:||4:05 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I should take his advice to go to my room and dance the night away.

My initial response to that was: "But it's not crazy since there aren't any witnesses!"

Now it sounds like loads of fun.

. . . . . posted:||5:57 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Have we really fallen so far?

It's infinitely depressing that there are people out there who make it their own personal crusade to knock everyone else down.

Like this one live journal community in question.

It's even more depressing when I realized that everyone in that community hails from Vegas.

Dammit, the city's not big enough (yet) to develop it's own depreciating subculture.

And it's these same people who go to all the concerts that I like going to.

No wonder I can't stand all the indie rockers in this city.


In other news, I think I managed to salt-cure my lips from all the pistachios I just ate.

Evil evil evil.

. . . . . posted:||12:43 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Chuck has interesting conversations at night...

starseiya: the only self-contained art is that which is not shared
JakobDerAsiater: That's like me saying, "Well, this tree could be a tree, but I think it's a pig."
starseiya: true
JakobDerAsiater: It is quite obviously a tree, end of discussion.
starseiya: but trees and pigs are not abstract concepts
starseiya: art is
JakobDerAsiater: But an abstract concept must deal with something concrete
JakobDerAsiater: Or else it's dealing with nothing
starseiya: all human communication is flawed
starseiya: humans communicate with symbols
starseiya: and cultures have differing symbols
starseiya: which, when crossing to other cultures, are often misinterpreted
starseiya: so unless an artist does not intend for people to see their work
starseiya: they will always cause that discussion of meaning
JakobDerAsiater: Every artist? Every piece?
starseiya: yes
JakobDerAsiater: Surely there are artists who have half a brain.
starseiya: there are
starseiya: you're talking to one of them

starseiya: the scary thing is, he's more persistant than you
starseiya: and unlike you, he's not very open to differing opinions when they attack his fundamental beliefs
mooseylou: i'm...persistent?
starseiya: in your way of debating your argument
starseiya: which isn't bad
starseiya: ... unless it comes to denying or confirming existence
starseiya: which humans have no right and all the right to do
mooseylou: existence of what?
starseiya: of existence
mooseylou: existence of existence?
starseiya: yep
starseiya: it goes into the tactile feel of the physical universe
starseiya: and then how humans can percieve such a state
starseiya: etc. etc.
starseiya: there's really no end to the argument
mooseylou: well its hard to argue that which is impossible to grasp with the human brain
starseiya: and I've been trying to explain that to him
starseiya: and thus judgement is moot
starseiya: well, judgement of a deep, philosophical nature anyways
mooseylou: yeah
starseiya: heh... and he calls himself an objectivist
starseiya: I liked him so much better before he read Ayn Rand
mooseylou: haha

starseiya: man... so many reasons to be sad and happy at the same time
HikariHerrsek: ?
starseiya: just a random thought
HikariHerrsek: pour quoi?
starseiya: like getting to wake up and scratch your stomach each time
starseiya: I think it's the (finally here!) stillness of the house at the moment
HikariHerrsek: no more grandmothers?
starseiya: everyone's well retired except for me and my hungry stomach
starseiya: but yeah, one of those moments where things seem so simple
starseiya: and it makes sense to be happy and/or sad about the simplest things in life
starseiya: like how lonely soda bottles become when they've been drunk out
starseiya: and how desperately some of them (Jones, specifically) want your attention because they're afraid of being alone
starseiya: and how happy pillows and bedsheets are that you sleep in them
starseiya: but then they get all Jewish-mother on your ass and ask you why you haven't settled down yet
starseiya: stuff like that
HikariHerrsek: o.O

Oh so many things I want to say, but I know that people read this. Sigh.

. . . . . posted:||2:05 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The entire Kidz Bop series is an affront to music everywhere. Pop/rock music remastered and sung for kids? It reeks of bible-belt influence.

Currently swimming in an odd cycle of songs and singers.

At the moment there's Counting Crows, but soon there's going to be a sudden influx of Beck (in retro-groove and country-style flavors) followed by some Alan Parsons Project a la Edgar Allan Poe.

A cocktail of Radiohead's OK Computer mixed into some lightly baked Fiona Apple and POE.

Then there's a healthy dose of REM and acoustic Pearl Jam, with lyrical and orchestrated Elvis Costello.

Let's continue the smokey cafe sound with the stylings of Rufus Wainwright, Holcombe Waller, and ill-appreciated Marc Copely.

The whole thing's only 10 hours long. Had I put all of my mp3s in one gigantic playlist, I'd count at least 500 hours before my computer crashes.

Dammit... No one bring me to a record store any time soon. I'll go bankrupt.

. . . . . posted:||12:42 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There's no way in hell that someone in my lifetime would be able to pull off a project more ambitious in scope and experimentation than that of the Cremaster Cycles.

Jesus H Christ.

. . . . . posted:||4:03 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Mmm... At the moment I'm (almost) satiated.

Everyone was being an ass to me in the early evening, so I went for a walk down to the lake and back. Had to time it so I wouldn't get slammed by the neighborhood patrol for being 'round the place past 11pm (again). Brought my tape recorder, a pack of those rose ciggies, and a matchbook with two matches left. Used one to lite one of the rose sticks.

Went out and walked, dictating the upcoming parts of my short story to the tape recorder and stopping every few sentences to smell the burning incense. Unfortunately, the night decided to be a bitch and blew out the lighted end. I struck the other match to relight my fire (obligatory DDR song reference), but again the wind was vengeful and killed that flame too. Damn.

Also ran into several half naked men (and they're one female friend) as I passed by the 24 Village Pub. They were hot and sweaty and so drunk that they were calling out random things at me. I tried not to drool/smirk.

Came home very relaxed and typed down most of the things that I said during my walk for my short story. Hm. Odd. In the span of twenty minutes I wrote half as much as I had without the nifty aid of the tape recorder. Here's to dictating!

On the down side... I have to hear my own voice. Which is still a very surreal thing to hear. Especially when you don't sound as sexy as you thought (or hoped) you'd sound like. Damn.

And let's hear it for my other drug of choice: caffiene/coffee!

starseiya: mmm
starseiya: coffee is nummy
BlessedAffection: in ice cream form yes yes
starseiya: I was thinking in hotness form
starseiya: ::sings:: oh, ode to coffee
starseiya: my java is so pretty
BlessedAffection: haha
starseiya: it's brown like chocolate
starseiya: and keeps me awake
starseiya: so I can be working all night
starseiya: and sleeping all day
starseiya: and keeps the damned family awa~y!
starseiya: ::bows::
BlessedAffection: *applause*
starseiya: thank you, thank you

Speaking of writing so much... 1500 posts, and still going strong!... just not as frequently.

Which is a good thing since then I don't have to reveal too much of my own problems (which you're probably sick of hearing anyways) and you're spared really pointless posts. Yep.

Here's to the next 500.

. . . . . posted:||1:56 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Updated the site a little bit. Added three more images to the art section, along with a link to the webcomic project and the "love show" piece that I did for art last year.

Look. I'm being productive.

. . . . . posted:||7:27 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I have severe urgings to post what little (two pages) of that short story I've been writing here, but I know that I shouldn't because that crap piece of literature is unpolished, unedited for grammar AND conventions, and the rhythm of the words is more or less non-existant. And it's ugly.

I hate pacing. Always have problems with it. Especially since I really started writing back when I was getting into Anne Rice and her notoriously descriptive style. What can I say, it kinda rubbed off on me. But then, somehow, there was a sudden fusion of Hemmingway that effectively killed any adverbs that decided to show up... Won't even mention the plethora of complex sentence structures...

At least it's only a short story. I'd have absolutely no patience nor stamina to write a full-length novel -- even a novella would be something short of hell.

My imagination races and I can visualize what I want to describe, but my mind shoves a nice dam on any streams of thought to pick out the perfect words and the perfect phrasing... which never really suit the situation. So, my fingers are even slower to record the words that my mind produces.

In the end, the story has already finished itself without being written down, and my mind loses interest in the story because (in some horribly selfish way) it has already been told.

Need to get one of those tape recorders to talk into... That way I can get said flood of thoughts out without worrying about how it'll look on paper without having to let go of the bit of incense between my fingers.

Hrm. And this is why I paint/draw. Much easier to convey meaning that way.

But this story is begging to get out and be shared.

. . . . . posted:||1:46 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Grandmas gave me the no go for the movie (attempt #2) today. Hopefully tomorrow they won't be so damned asian and let me out of the house.

In other news, this is why I keep reading boy-ashamed's stuff:
As I realised that I would quite happily spend another million nights lying next to him. Gently stroking him back. Listening to him fall asleep. I realised how lucky I am to be with him. And I realised that given the chance, I'd spend a million nights with him. And if that wasn't possible... another three hundred and sixty five would do me for now.

Sorry, I've been in a series of weird moods since the weekend. No where near as productive as I wanted to be. Should be too.

Woke up nautious and opted to skip lunch. My stomach still feels as is a hamster is using the damned organ as it's own personal exercising wheel. Urgh.

. . . . . posted:||1:17 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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You've got to love coincidences.

So, earlier tonight dad and I were going to watch The Eye (Mandarin horror movie) and I would be the one navigating our lil Civic through the "busy" midnight freeways.

Half an hour before we were suppose to leave, there's two flashes of lightning followed quickly by one mother of a down pour. Hey Karen, I think your empath skills are affecting the weather as well.

Add the harsh winds and it's like Wednesday and Florida all over again. Needless to say, the movie was cancelled for tonight.

Sis and I longed for one of those big and sweeping windows we had in our Arizona house so we could watch the rain pour and the lightning flash.

In other news, I do odd things with incense. Namely shaving it off of the stick and then rolling it up in some cigarette squares, so I have a ciggie that's nicely rose-scented and non-addictive... but the damned thing doesn't want to stay lit, so instead I've taken to laying the incense out on a large dish and setting it aflame. Paired with the muddy rain, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Eh. I figured that, given all of that stuff that I burn and inhale, I'll end up getting lung cancer anyways. Sis found it funny that I was burning incense and listening to Incubus.

Now I'm listening to some Damien Rice, drinking some god-awful diet A&W root beer, and hoping that he didn't get hurt while he drove around in the rain tonight.

Things have been interesting in fits and starts this summer. But I'm still ill-convinced about the dating possibilities that have come by. Yeah.

Hm... wonder if Mike's back from his lil sojourn to where ever. I should give him a call.

Just spent five minutes staring at the keyboard convincing myself that no, the letters aren't rearranging themselves. I need sleep. Badly. G'nighters.

. . . . . posted:||2:33 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Writer's block sucks.

Hey, can anyone point me in the direction of some good concept albums?

. . . . . posted:||9:10 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Just when I find an uber cool place to put up a profile (and no, I refuse to do HotorNot.com), I find several people that I... don't necessarily hate or dislike severely.


Crap. There're good looking alt-music-loving Chucks out there. Minus 2 billion points to me.

I think I'll go write that short story that's been pounding away at the inside of my head.

And I'm out of liver-pickling liquids (diet soda).

(six more...)

. . . . . posted:||4:48 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I'm listening to some Junior Senior songs... and I'm loving it.

Specifically "Chicks and Dicks."
Junior: Boy b-boy boys just leave me alone,
Senior: Come over here 'cause I'm all alone,
Junior: But they always want what they know they can't get,
Senior: Boys I'm into you, so don't you forget!
You've got to love gay guy/straight guy banter. Or cat calls.

Can't wait for August 5th when I can grab a copy of their cd... or the new Something Corporate, Phantom Planet, Rufus Wainwright, BT, etc. ones... Damn, I need to start saving up money.

Man, I should listen to more eccentric music from Denmark.

And along the same lines, debating whether or not to take up his offer to go to Roma's tonight. Hrm.

I've been looking for images of lipstick stains for one of the summer art pieces, and I came across some amazing 1960's women's lib posters. I think I'll put one of them on a shirt and wear that one around. Sweetness.

. . . . . posted:||10:39 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Last night's concert was a completely cathartic experience.

Got a ride from Matt. Franny came with and she's as great as ever. Those two are like Flavey and I... times ten. I don't fondle my friend's rack that frequently, thank you.

While waiting in line for tickets, there was this massive and sudden down pour plus strong gales. It looked like any random hurricane footage sans the cars being swept away. If the place didn't get so damned humid afterwards, I wouldn't mind too much.

There were so many cute guys at that concert. It so did not help my recent attempts at regaining control of my libido. And a lot of gay guys were there as well. I felt like flirting but, knowing my luck with present company, I'd end up deflecting them to Matt's direction on accident. Besides, they're all so damn young now! I'm feeling much older, and not in the good, mature, and legal - alcohol - imbibing way. Yergh.

The three opening bands were all locals... and sis and I were shocked that the local scene has FINALLY gotten better. No where near as good as Orange County's or Long Beaches', but it's getting there. Oh, and I wanted to jump the bones of practically every lead singer. It's a pity that they probably live on the other side of town... Man, sometimes I wish I live in Henderson.

So... Something Corporate. Great great great great great. The group didn't get to the front from the beginning, but by the start of their set I was able to squeeze into the front. Franny and I screamed along with all of the songs. And everyone in the band were in rare form tonight. Definitely their best Vegas show so far. Especially with the new version of "Konstantine" that Andrew played. Mmph!

After the show we went outside and ran into William Tell (one of the guitarists) and I got my cd booklet signed while we talked about how much Warped Tour sucked last year. Matt was trying not to lick him all over. Franny was likewise. Sis stood back and chuckled softly.

I was a bit upset that I used up my last shot on the camera during the concert. This would've been a wonderful addition to my "photos with band members" collection. Doesn't hurt that he's loads of eye candy too.

It's bad enough that the lead singer from One More Weekend had a geek backpack. Rowr. New-found weak spot.

Bad libido. Bad! Down boy!

Finally got home 'round midnight. Took a shower to get that nice concert stench off of me and went to bed.

It was a good day.

. . . . . posted:||9:43 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Hello all.

This is me when I've had little sleep for the past 12 hours... which really isn't saying much for normal people, but since I've been sleeping in three hour increments, this is big for me since my scheduel's all screwed up at the moment.

It's entirely my fault though. Earlier today I was looking for the text file with that damned quiz I was working on (going to rewrite it so that there are less possible choices) and I stumbled upon a rather odd (read: descriptive violence and abuse of metaphors) IM conversation I had with Barto some time ago.

I felt that it would be interesting to see if I could sum up any of that old rage in me with several pots of loverly java... If anything, it's making me act even more odd than usual. As in: I've been reading Eminem slash fics. Shoot me, someone. Not Tyler, he wants me to make sweet love to the barrel of his shotgun before blowing my brains out. It's a pity that his ratio is 1:5, boys to girls.

Then I pounded away on the ol' DDR pad for a good hour before I let my sore calves pass out under me. I need to get a new DDR game; the songs are all too damned familiar now. Plus, the pad is shot to hell since it's been folded so often.

Went at HAN's portrait with a painting knife since the acrylic cover I put on the canvas turned out rather rough. That was fun. Covered half of my floor with all the oil paint I used, but it was still fun. Luckily I had my old Blink 182 blanket on the carpet, so the old rag soaked up the paint rightly. Given all the scraping I did, I was surprised that no one woke up. Hn.

Sis and I caught the rerun of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. We laughed our asses off, and enjoyed comparing the members of the Fab 5 to people we know at LVA. I do believe I've found my guilty pleasure for Tuesday nights... and that would make my watching scheduel during the school year almost complete.

Another reason to blow a hole in my head: I'm borderline emo at the moment for the Something Corporate concert tomorrow... erm, today. Or I could turn into a Lilith Fair fan (like how I was during 1995) and break out the Sarah McLaughlin cd. Or I could pull out my own musical valium (my Symphonic Pink Floyd cd from 3rd grade) and get some much needed rest.

... Screw it. I'll listen to my Velvet Goldmine soundtrack and pretend I'm a glam rocker for a few more minutes.

I'll sleep when I'm dead.

Oh! And I should call up people tomorrow and see if their moms still think that I've corrupted their baby boys (who have now... naw, shouldn't say that).

. . . . . posted:||3:19 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Some select observations during the past 48 hours:

On the phone with Karen while planning last night's movie night (paraphrased from memory):

Karen: Oh! You know who you should invite?
Me: Who?
Karen: Halley!
Me: Um... Can't. He's in Long Beach now... didn't I tell you that?
Karen: Oh... no...
Me: Yeah, he's with his boyfriend now. And besides, if he did come over, you know what would happen...
Karen: Oh yeah. Bad idea.

Other things from that night of watching The Wolves of Kromer:
- mini sleeping orgy on the sofa
- Karen and I reduced to whimpering puddles at the sight of the "wolves"
- the infamous Karen and Matt poking/tickling war
- "do you want the regular ice cubes or the good ice cubes?"
- Barto calling and then having to listen to us act like gits
- the parents going on a date to avoid contact with us
- Kissing Jessica Stein
- (censored to protect certain peoples... again)
- the LVA year book and Brady's enlarged ass
- grandmas getting mad at me for not force-feeding the guests

... and plenty more.

Today, went down to the Belz Outlet Mall (friggin' hour drive down in the hot hot heat with the entire family) and again I wished that I wasn't with family. Jesus "Fairy" Christ, that's where the gay guys of Vegas hang out. I've been honing my skills and I've been getting better at catching someone's attention or engaging in eye sex (where both people latch onto eachother's gazes for more than five seconds). Yes.

Dammit. I hate having my libido back.

And I so want the movie thing to go tomorrow, but this day has been so screwy.

Shit. My eyes are completely red.

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

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On a side (and rather infuriating) note: dad blames me for breaking the digital camera so that it eats up batteries like a starve man at a buffet.

Jesus christ, it's not my fault that the damned thing was cheaply made.

Stupid Kodak Easy(shite)Share crappers. I want the one that Emily has with the 100+ high-resolution photo capacity.

Hell, even Tyler's semi-shit camera would work better.

. . . . . posted:||9:37 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
So hey, yesterday I finally got the break from the whole entertain - the - houseguests routine.

Finally got a chance to cavort around Fashion Show Mall. Funny thing about that though... we were suppose to leave 'round noon, but everyone else except for me and sis took so long that we left at 1:45pm instead. Yeesh.

Got to the mall after some horrendous detour traffic dressed like something odd from the Matrix. After the mall sis and I were going to Crystal's "Dark and Mysterious" birthday party. Naturally, wore all black while sis wore black and white (with an effing denim skirt). Shopping wasn't as fun as it normallyis when I'm in one of the downtown malls. I'm used to dressing to the 9's so I can be pretentious and look at all the high-end shops without getting too many dirty looks from the workers. Sis' attire (and dad tailing us) didn't help all too much... and then sis taking an ungodly about of time looking and trying on stuff at Nordstrom was even worse. We only had an hour or so to look 'round before we had to leave... So I left the store to meet up with the other two later.

Walked 'round and tried to take pictures of the surrounding area for reference shots, but it's impossible to do that without looking suspicious. Damn. Went to Waldens to find a copy of Sushi For Beginners, but they were out of stock. Since I had no time left to spare I went down to the appointed meeting place... and ran into Jackie I. She was working at one of those little carts and was looking completely bored. I decided to entertain her for a couple of minutes since sis and dad weren't there yet. She let me use one of those oil-blotter sheets since she had to look like she was working. That was fun. Then the other two came and we left for Crystal's...

... which was a good half hour away. What made it worse was that sis was giving the directions had was screwing up big time. Especially when we got into the apartment complex... she couldn't decide if Crystal's place was 115 or 155. We ended up driving by 115, and I was forced to go out and knock on the door to see if that was the right place. This little girl cracked open the door, I asked her if this was were Crystal lives, she said no then asked me if I was from the Matrix. I should have said yes. But I didn't.

That settled, we went to Crystal's (at #155) and were the first ones to be there. Pretty soon all the party people showed up and I was introduced to two of her friends (who are uber cool). We watched Frida; despite everyone laughing at completely inappropriate moments, it was a great movie. I did many things that I probably wouldn't be ashamed to do if I had a spot of alcohol on me, but alas I was running on sugar only. Yeesh.

Hah. Jyl was there and she forgot that I make sexual threats, never physical ones. She's such a man.

And Crystal should get more male friends because, frankly, it's rather annoying being with just women so often.

'Round 8pm dad came by to collect us, we said bye to Crystal and the party people... and I left my eyeglass case on her DVDs. Oops. Luckily I didn't forget my sunglasses that I had put in there. So, another drive downtown to the Aladdin where we perused the shops at the Desert Passage (couldn't really go in since the other two were eating gelato, and sis was taking her sweet time eating it). Went into the Metropolitan Museum of Art Store to escape the extremely noisy crowd and to alleviate my headache. Sis got bored easily so she went outside. Urgh. On the plus side I got a copy of the Love and Desire photography book for a practical steal ($10 instead of the normal $40).

As grateful as I am for getting out of the usual routine, I still need to do all that again without family members. Even sis. The presence of blood kin kept me from pursuing some of the cuter (and gaydar alerting) shoppers. I need to get a group of friends together to do just that. Yep.

Came home tired, passed out on the sofa, woke up at 3:30am to sis on the computer, and then went up to my bed. Slept.

Woke up. And here I am. Yayness.

. . . . . posted:||9:30 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Here we go... Another survey for your wandering eyes to glance over before you wait for another decent entry. I don't have much to talk about at the moment (aside from some really bad thoughts that I know no one else wants to hear). Besides, Barto and Karen demand it of me. So...

HAVE YOU EVER (::insert Brandy song reference::)

Ever been so drunk you blacked out: Once, when I was 10 on 2 liters of 6 years expired Sprite. You've got to love fermentation!

Missed school because it was raining: If I attended a nice one in England with uber schnazy uniforms and footy players, sure.

Put a body part on fire for amusement: I have fun with long strands of hair and candles.

Been hurt emotionally: Who hasn't?

Kept a secret from anyone: Naturally

Had an imaginary friend: Only in 2nd grade because people said I was weird since I didn't have/believe in one

Cried during a Movie: Rarely

Had a crush on a teacher: Um... Karen can answer that one for me...

Ever thought a cartoon character was hot: Sadly... yes.

Had a New Kids on the Block tape: Again... yeah.

Been on stage: Ah, memories of the 8th grade productiong of Much Ado About Nothing...

Cut your hair: Once a month. Saves me a bundle on going to the local Master Cuts


Shampoo: I'll probably sound like a complete girl... Pantene Pro V

Soap: Usually Dial soap (the one with the irish waterfall freshness) but I've been eyeing that bar of whitening soap...

Color: Just one? In that case... black. Ha! It's not even a true color; it's a SHADE!

Day/Night: Definitely nights. Since everyone's asleep in the house, I can get away with many a thing.

Summer/Winter: Ah... let's see... desert... Winter please. Wish we could get at least a foot of snow at some point.

Lace or satin: ::smiles::

Fave cartoon Characters: Oh god... Hamtaro, Tokyo Pig, Terry from Batman Beyond... and many many more.

Fave Food: Bah. Evil.

Fave Movie: I'll give a Perks-esque answer, and I'll say whatever movie I saw last because it was the last movie that I saw.

Fave Subject: Facism/Art.

Fave 'normal' Drink: Diet orange soda... yeah, I know I'm pickling my insides.

Fave Persons to talk to online: Karen, Tyler, other Tyler, Em, Halley (who needs to hurry up and get himself online after he's found a job and all in Long Beach)...

Wearing: Grey shirt with hideous stripe across it and red/black plaid pajama bottom... embarassing, I know.

Eating: Finished breakfast... eeevil.

Drinking: Ha! DIET Sunkist Orange Soda. Take that, barto!

Thinking about: More like the opposite.

Listening to: grandmas asking me what they should make with the slab of beef in the sink at the moment.

Cried: if you count yawning from sleepiness...

Worn a skirt: Ha. Haha. No.

Met someone new: No... Which reminds me; I need to get out of this house.

Cleaned your room: Actually.. yep. Had to scrub the dried white paint off the wine-colored carpet... Didn't work too well, so I had to trim the "infected" areas.

Done laundry: Nope. It's not my function.

Drove a car: Hah... Don't tell anyone.

Yourself: Toki doki.

Your friends: Of course. Otherwise they would cease to exist... or I wouldn't acknowledge them as being real.

Santa Claus: Ah... silly Coca Cola marketing ploy...

Destiny/Fate: Yep. Really great place to hang out.

Ghosts: Sure, why not.

UFO's: If it's the ever elusive Ultimate Female Orgasm that many of my friends have been searching for... good luck to them.

Who's the loudest: Depends on the day... But usually it's Niko that's squealing like a banshee whenever you mention Brandon Boyd naked, poultry, or both.

Who's the shyest: Good question...

Who do you go to for advice: Depends. If it's something emotional I turn to my inner bitch-slapping Jerry Springer guest.

When did you cry the most: Yeesh, all this focus on those other things, "which for several reasons we won't mention."

What's the best feeling in the world: Feeling infinite.

Worst feeling: Rejection (hey Quin... DENIED! Ha!)

Who will respond to this email the fastest?: ::blinks::... email?

Who sent this 2u: Barto and technically (via LJ) Karen

. . .

There. Now I'm off to my room to go cuddle up to my substitute lover... the body pillow.

. . . . . posted:||8:52 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Damn. Even Jesus wouldn't want to be my friend if you saw me last night. From the afternoon onward every female member of the family manifested their own personal OCDs. It was quite annoying. Poor Tyler had to be the only one I could bitch to about the situation.

What made it worse was that I was in no mood to go out later that night to go watch the recent pirate movie. Grr. Instead, I was stuck in the house, alone with the two grandmas. Who wouldn't stop talking about my weight. I hate filipino/asian bluntness. One of the reasons why I don't show as much respect to my elders as I should; all the elder family members delight in giving me backhanded compliments. Or try to talk me into becoming a doctor. Again.

And for pure randomness (again, this is the subject that two people suffering from single-life-disorder talk about the most...):

Eh... scratch that. I don't want to seem like the typical horny teenager that I've just recently turned into.

Hell, I have yet to sleep since my two hour nap from 9pm. I think I'll do just that. G'nighters... erm, morning?

. . . . . posted:||8:27 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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"Lost Art of Keeping a Secret" - Queens of the Stone Age

I've got a secret, I cannot say
A modern movement to give it away
You've got something, I understand
Hold it in tightly, call on command
Leap of faith, do you doubt?
Cut you in, I just cut you out

Whatever you do
Don't tell anyone
Whatever you do
Don't tell anyone

Look for reflections, in your face
Canine devotion, time can't erase
Out on the corner, or locked in your room
I never believe them and I never assume
Stuck in believe there is a lie
Promises promise, an eye for an eye
We've got something to reveal
No one can know how we feel


I think you already know
How far I'd go not to say
You know the art isn't gone
And I'm taking our song to the grave

. . . . . posted:||6:59 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Grrr... People in my family should be grateful that the computer screen is at a high resolution. It's not my fault that their eyes are prone to squinting like the little mice that they are.

So yes, I've converted to the church of 1024x768.

And I finished reading 1984. One cursed book down, and one more to go.

I better remember to reread them before school starts.

. . . . . posted:||4:07 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I feel like calling up people to chat but... well, not sure what everyone else is doing at this moment.

I have a talent for calling people up at highly inconvenient times. It rather sucks.

Need... human... contact...

And not the family kinda that speaks in Tagalog/Ilocano.

I've also figured out that all of the women in this family have some sort of OCD. So, for the next month and a half dad and I will have to live with four semi-testy females. Yeesh.

People wonder why I don't relate to guys as well... Why? The fact is blatantly obvious.

Hrm. No one's on AIM too. This is going to suck.

I've been working on my pieces due for that art competition and for my Studio AP class but... my eyes are tired at the moment. I need to get eye drops so I can work into the wee small hours of the morning. I haven't drawn anything from life in at least a month so I know that skill needs severe refreshening. My painting technique (specifically oil, but acrylic is getting there too) is getting far better, but I need to let things dry for weeks or so. Blech.

Oh, and I've lost reference photos for half of the canvases in my room. Shite.

So, the computer is situated in the corner of the family room while the females of the household are watching this badly home-made dvd of old photos and cheesy ballads. It's rather annoying.

I need a car to get out of this damn house. Or I could always go for a walk. Hmm... think I can manage walking all the way to Rainbow Library?

. . . . . posted:||1:32 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
So... new layout. ::collapses::

. . . . . posted:||11:28 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Today, instead of being able to go watch Pirates of the Caribbean with friends, I had to go with the family (in an extremely cramped van) to the Venetian to entertain the house guests. Oh. Joy.

To try to make the best of the situation, I brought my digital camera with the premise of getting reference photos. Ha. Sis and I were really trying to get pictures of some of the cute guys that were walking around the shops... but there really wasn't anyone too interesting. Especially since it's a weekday.

One of the singers steering the gondolas was a former LVA-ite and I felt like calling out to him to say hi (we were on rather friendly terms during my freshman year) but he was too busy trying not to get the boat to ram into the sides. Oh well.

There were at least three couples getting married that day. One was this really cute asian (Korean?) couple complete with their own personal photographer to follow them around. They didn't get to ride the wedding gondola though. Another couple passed by rather quickly so I couldn't see how they looked. The last one had this really nice reception on the small bridge section of this restaurant with a madrigal choir singing for them.

At some point the parents wanted to show off the really nice lobby, so sis and I had an opportunity to (finally) head to the Guggenheim exhibit on pop art. Dad was being ever the ass (again) and had to make a big deal about our need to appreciate art to the guy who was handling the money. Everyone sans dad was wishing that he would just shut up. Grr. The exhibit was nice. I've never been too impressed with pop art (especially the over-rated and now kitsch work of Andy Warhol) but the sheer size of some of the pieces was astonishing. The only piece that struck me as amazing was this gigantic monstrosity (covering a third of the long wall of the gallery) by Rauschenberg called "Barge." Looks like something I would do if Michaels would let me bring in something that big. Damn, all the good ideas have been taken already. Sis was absolutely in love with the "Soft Light Switches" and "Soft Pay Phone." We both hated the "Four Soap Dishes" (I wanted to scream at it since it looks like an exercise we had to do while learning to oil paint). Afterwards, shopped at the Guggenheim shop (sis got a post card of "Barge" and I was contemplating this really nice shirt with an image of "The Passion of St. Sebastian" on it until I saw the price...$28?! I could effing make that shirt for half that price!) where dad ran into us and we regrouped with everyone else, decided on dinner, and went to Jillian's at Neonopolis where I made an ass of myself on the Pump It Up game (again) and completely kicked MC's ass twice in air hockey.

Back to a previous subject... yep, there were a few cute guys, but they were sparse at best. And had a tendency to carry luggage (::coughgirlfriendscough::) with them. Several were rather note-worthy. There was this swedish boy that I had eye contact with several times (it's a pity that he was with his parents), this puppy dog of an emo boy sipping coffee with a large group of girls (::beep::), two guys who were either gay or european given how close they were where ever I saw them, and (naturally) pretty boy with the spiked hair working at Sephora.

... Screw it. A huge make up store is the last place to be cruising guys. Especially if they were caked up like the drag queen that did sis' make over for Winter Formal last year. And even if they are good looking, chances are that they're taken. Oh well.

I should have gotten that $40 bottle of Demeter Gin & Tonic. It smelled nice and alcoholic. Vegas needs its own Demeter uni-sex cologne shop.

. . . . . posted:||4:15 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Weird dream I had last night.

I was a member of this group of six people who found themselves locked inside this mansion and have had to to kill off the evil zombies and baddies in the place. (think something along the lines of Cube and the Silent Hill games) At the very end everyone had to kill eachother off since only one person could exit the mansion. Very Battle Royale. So, I found myself at the very top of the place (the attic) and everything was looking very much like a polygon video game world. Walked a round for a bit, then dashed into this hallway-ish place where I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around and saw one of the other six coming after me... and someone paused the game. Only, the other person was still moving around and three more of the others made their way into the room. Suddenly the game was unpaused and I was making a mad dash for one of the doors while the four people behind me tried to pick eachother off.

I burst through these double doors and there's this weird, old asian man wielding a butcher knife at me (he was one of the six people). I ran past him and kept on running until I found myself in my actual living room (the place was no longer polygonal) with all five other people charging at me. The camera swings into third person and I see myself kicking their asses Matrix style while swiping one of their shotguns. Four of them went down and I was heading for the last one when I realized that there were no more rounds inside the shotgun...

Now I'm looking at a computer screen and I'm reading about my own demise in a fanfiction.net story. Apparently the last person (who was Selene from 28 Days Later) took out her magnum and swiftly entered eight shots into my chest (... aren't there suppose to be only 6 rounds in that thing?) and as I'm reading I'm imagining myself falling down dead in slow motion.

And that's when I woke up... at 1:15am while the moonlight and streetlights were pouring into my room from the open window. Yeesh.

Then I was having mild hallucinations that I was in a Fatal Frame game and that ghosts were coming at me but I had no camera to defend myself with. Eventually I went back to sleep...

I'd mention the second dream, but that's a bit more explicit. Yeah.

. . . . . posted:||6:28 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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So, steadily plowing away at the new layout.

Urgh... damn indigestion.

. . . . . posted:||10:38 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Expect disappointment.

Nononono. Don't think like that.

Think happy thoughts... as much as you don't believe in them.

I need some ice cubes to munch on.


I'm missing Halley. And the other Halley. Too many Halleys are leaving or have left.

My sleeping scheduel needs re-adjusting.

Yeah, I know I'm whining a bit at the moment. Who cares.

. . . . . posted:||9:07 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Note to self: staying up all night to paint produces a severe hang-over style headache. Shortly after the last post I fell asleep and (according to sis) was hitting everyone who dared to wake me up. At some point she finally got me to wake up so I could get dressed for movie and church. Urgh. So I got dressed (took a shower in the morning after a bit of DDRing, so didn't have to), washed off all the oil paint on Karen's new canvas with some turpenoid (and started it up again last night), went back downstairs and curled myself fetal-style on the couch. Tried to get some shut eye, but sis was practicing piano, grandma was talking loudly on the phone, and dad was watching sports with the tv turned up loud. I got immensely irritated and went back up to my room.

Fell asleep and woke up at 9pm. I think it's the bad brew of coffee that I had during the night.

I stayed up this night as well. Worked on Karen's portrait for a bit until I was satisfied with the colors (second undercoat to be later painted ontop of) then ate dinner 'round 1am while watching Nature on PBS. Once dinner was done, I popped in ALLO and (not wanting to touch any artwork for a good two hours) broke out the crotchet needle.

Ideally, I'd be able to knit one of the outfits I'm trying to make for the fashion show... but from the tumorous lump of yarn I created while watching sexy McGregor, I'm guessing that it's a no go. Ugh.

Today... I can't sleep until 9pm. I still have piano, but then I have three weeks off. Damn... that means I need to practice.

I also wanted to post something from the Hipster Handbook that sis bought, but then remembered that I promised not to do degrading stuff like that. So, no post.

Now I think I'll have breakfast and sleep afterwards. I need to invest in sleeping pills so I can get some semblance of regular sleep.

. . . . . posted:||6:41 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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A couple things to note as my eyes feel like they've been jackhammered into the back of my head (trans: headache).


Duck: 28 Days Later was made by the same team who did Shallow Grave (go figure... but the movie could've been better if the dad was played by Ewan... just a personal preference). And I have to agree about the movie lacking any great moral message about human rage. I don't think it was suppose to. If it were, the ending would be much darker than the happy "HELLO" sign. Personally -- and this is especially true for Japanese movies -- I'm sick and tired of movies that literally spout out the moral we're suppose to learn at the end. When they do that, I'm deprived of the need to dissect a film.

Speaking of rage, ever heard of the Angry Asian Man?

Sarah: ::waves::

Lil cousin MC (real name Mevin... ha ha) is still an annoying brat. He wouldn't even look up when I offered to let him play a game on my PS2. And it's not often that I make that offer.

Ahem... ::swoon::. That's all I'll say about that.

I have that damned 10 minute long song from Morimur stuck in my head. I think some Enon will help wipe that away... Ah, much better.

Hmm... pursue someone that I know will break off a friendship, or try to salvage said friendship by ignoring obvious advances? Choices choices.

Today feels like a Ewan movie day. I'm thinking ALLO, followed by Moulin Rouge, The Velvet Goldmine, and... Trainspotting to round things off. Oh yes.

. . . . . posted:||9:00 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Right. So here's half of what I was doing all night long.

I'm surprised how well this painting is turning out. Only spent two hours applying that layer of color (rather thick too, so it'll take a week to dry). Still debating whether I should add small details or keep the colors large and somewhat blocky.

The other half... is drying in the sun at the moment. Yes folks, Karen's portrait is the second one to be treated in such a fashion. Last night I was trying to apply the new skin tone, but I was trying to simultaneously layer on the thick color and correct the facial proportions (her nose was too long so she looked a bit like Yentil). Not good.

So, this morning ('round 5am) I took the portrait outside and proceeded to vandalize it. Acetone/acrylic varnish on wet oil paint, a scrubber, and paper towels make some rather interesting effects.

Don't worry, I have a second one all drawn up and (finally) to proportion.

So, now I have family over. Yesterday at 1:30am MC and Tita Tess came (with a couple of her classmates that drove them) and feel alseep 'round 3am. Later, when everyone was more or less awake, grandma and mom cooked a big ol' breakfast (with BACON! that's rare for grandma to cook something like that) and people ate. Afterwards I went up to my room, read a couple of chapters of 1984, and fell asleep. When I woke up, the guests had already left and were touring some of the casinos downtown.

Later, 'round 8pm, the family (sans classmates who drove back to LA) went to the airport to pick up Nanay (mom's mom). Sis had to go use the restroom urgently while we were waiting for her at the luggage claim, so we went in search of a restroom (I needed to go too). Found one, and I went in, did my business, and got up close and personal with a guy from Russia.

Sis and I came back to where the parents were and we guy-watched (international eye candy!) until Nanay came. The usual greeting, a group photo, etc. and we were back home.

Then I proceeded to paint the entire night and managed to leave some paint on my carpet. Crap.

Now I think we'll be going to church today... ugh. Wonder how we'll fit everyone into the van...

. . . . . posted:||8:39 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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ChildofthyNight: I've noticed that whenever you speak you are very cryptic
ChildofthyNight: which you shouldn't be
ChildofthyNight: critical
starseiya: what, cryptic?
ChildofthyNight: yes
ChildofthyNight: very cryptic
starseiya: I have to be these days
starseiya: been noticing that some of the people I tell my darkest secrets to can't hold onto them
starseiya: even ******** can't keep a secret for more than a year
ChildofthyNight: thats not good
starseiya: what? not trusting people?
ChildofthyNight: yeah and especially your friends
ChildofthyNight: I understand tho
ChildofthyNight: don't let it fester
starseiya: I'm not
starseiya: I don't hold it against them
starseiya: just... well, disappointed I guess

. . . . . posted:||9:51 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"You're Not Here" - Akira Yamaoka

Blue sky to forever,
The green grass blows in the wind, dancing.
It would be much better a sight with you, with me.
If you hadn't met me, I'd be fine on my own, baby,
I never felt so lonely, then you came along.

So now what should I do?
I'm strung out, addicted to you.
My body it aches, now that you're gone
My supply fell through.

You gladly gave me everything you had and more--
You craved my happiness.
When you make me feel joy it makes you smile,
But now I feel your stress.
Love was never meant to be such a crazy affair, no
And who has time for tears?
Never thought I'd sit around and cry for your love,
'till now.

. . .

Wonderful song.

Yes, nothing like listening to the Silent Hill soundtrack at night to calm down your nerves.

::grabs a steel pipe::

. . . . . posted:||9:44 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Damn people and their Independence Day celebrations.

No one's online for me to annoy.

I should call people to hassle them, but I lack the energy...

Given all the cleaning I've done for the past 48 hours, I am now an official Stepford wife... sans the 50's attire, pearl necklace, and husband with a mean streak. I think I'd fit much better as a servant in a Victorian house a la The Manor House.

Here's the kicker. The guests are arriving at midnight. Which means that they'll be far too tired to comment/inspect how clean our house is. Stupid little details.

I'm in need of a good shave (no full on beard, but this stubble is annoying me). Sis is holed up in the bathroom showering at the moment and, knowing my luck, when the room's finally open I'll have to talk to someone online that I really don't feel like talking with.

... ah ha. I was right.


Happy fireworks day.

. . . . . posted:||7:08 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It's the 4th of July, and I don't care!
4th of July, and I don't care!
4th of July, and I don't care!
It's shite to be American anyways!

Thank you!

::carted off by the FBI::

. . . . . posted:||6:55 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Shoot me. I'm lusting after two members of TechTV's ScreenSavers production team.

My geek rating just went up two notches.

. . . . . posted:||5:55 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Remembering those summer nights where I licked the chocolate malt off of your fingers.

I miss the carefree days.

. . . . . posted:||9:58 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In other news, new bands to peruse:
- Watashi Wa
- Gatsby's Great American Dream
- Josh

Sweetness. And swoon-ness.

One last personal note: steer clear of guys named Steve or Steven, no matter how endearing they may be.

Luckily, I won't be about $80 in the hole anymore. In about a month and a half, my friend is celebrating one year of not cutting (hoorah!). I promised him back when he was first quitting it that I'd buy him a fancy dinner if he could steer clear of blades for a year.

Sniff... and he has. 'm proud.

But yeah, I was going to treat him to the Eiffel Tower restaurant (located inside the mini-Eiffel Tower at Paris, Las Vegas) with the really nice view of "lake" Bellagio. Told him about my plans, he said it was far too much and that I don't have to do anything special.

Still gonna pay for a nice dinner though. I'm thinking Ceres at night; the view of the small pond and the outside is wonderful. Moderately priced too. We'll see.

. . . . . posted:||6:56 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
sylvia plath emotional artist
You are an emotional artist. You have probably been
censored more than once. You let your emotions
control your art and how you create it. Your
biggest problem is that you are misunderstood
and for good reason. If everyone understood you
they might all be scared away. Oh well your art
is beautiful and so are you.
What Type of Artist Are You?

Are we that surprised? Hmm... wonder if they have a quiz for what different art school/movement you belong to...

A girl on AOL looked up my profile and decided to chat since we have a mutual love of art. Unfortunately for me, she's an abstract expressionist. ::fumes:: Whatever happened to the realists and romantics/humanists?

Urgh... The Modernist movement was progressive and expanded the realms of art, but it destroyed appreciation for aesthetics and a solid foundation in classical training. It also made passing pieces off as high-art rather kitsch and far too easy.

Not to discredit Pollock who splattered paint (even if he did use house paint that've been flaking off, but he know about composition and how to use the different elements and principles) or Rothko (painted large canvases one or two colors; his focus was on the act of creating art to replace a religious experience)... but there are a lot of people immitating their style.

And trust me, there's a difference between being an immitation and a derivative.


I'm happy at the moment. Got the latest Arena+ magazine (issue 19) from the UK (it's $14 here, but 5 pounds there... ::grumble::) and it is completely beautific. Two sad things I've realized though: all the stunningly androgynous boys are across the pond, and all the good fashion ideas I've been thinking have been done to some extent. Urgh.

Then again, with an issue entitled "Homme +" you have to expect all the men.

You're artsy, emotional, and you can tango!
But something important: you tend to let your camera define you.
Break out of that emoness and live!
Which RENT character are you?

You are UNIQUELY AWESOME. That would be me, too. ;)
You really don't fit the typical mold, and
people tell you that straight out. But, once
you make your presence known, people love you.
You're crazy, flirty, very talkative, and
opinionated. While your personality may vary,
it is agreed that you're weird...in a good way.
If you went to my high school, who would you be?

You're a Visual Arts Major!
You can find beauty in anything except yourself.
You smoke, you drink, you rarely sleep. You
crash in class when you decide to go. Extreme
art majors can have suicidal tendencies.
Smile, your friends want you alive for other
reasons than your amazing presonal sketches.
What Arts School Major should you be?

I don't think that last one was by an LVA-ite. Oh! Speaking of, I'm still in the middle of writing my own major quiz for LVA. Lots of inside jokes and you get a glimpse at how unusual LVA can get.

Moving on...

Personal side note: biting/chewing on one's lip makes it rather red. One of the poses I did for my yet-to-be-started relief printings on lips had me biting my lower lip for half an hour. Rather irritating, but I wouldn't mind too badly if someone else was doing the biting.

Personal side note two: flirting at Borders is easier than flirting at Barnes & Nobles, if only because I hardly go to B&N since their selection of cd's is lacking my favorite artists.

Two days till the two-month houseguests come. I guess mom wants us to start crackin' on the cleaning bit... urgh. At least I don't have to vacuum until tomorrow afternoon before a possible romp downtown. Still have to do some dusting and cleaning, but that shouldn't take more than three hours. I'm efficient like that.

Hopefully I won't be on bathroom duty. ::shudder::

. . . . . posted:||6:37 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Okay. It's bordering 4am and my family sans grandma is still awake.

For fuck's sake people, night-time is my freedom/alone time! Do me a favor: stop annoying me and go to bed.

Ah... now that I've gotten that out of my system...

HikariHerrsek: HOLY SHIT
starseiya: hn?
starseiya: (well, I coulda told you that)
starseiya: how did this come about?
HikariHerrsek: Well, it comes out more with my actions
HikariHerrsek: but I was just watching what I do naturally
HikariHerrsek: and I have the greatest urge to bone myself
starseiya: ::thoughts::
HikariHerrsek: Good or bad?
starseiya: depends... define "bad"

And later...

ReveurRinStar926: lol
starseiya: pity that he has a girlfriend
ReveurRinStar926: you have very silly and horny friends chuck

Yeah, too many people want his sex.

It's early in the morning/late at night, I'm lamenting the coming new moon (can't sleep with the blinds open since there won't be enough moonlight to let in), and Jason Mraz keeps me melancholy.

Working on some relief prints involving rather large lips. Still undecided on the color scheme (reduction? b/w? add some red?) but it's gonna be relatively huge.

Shoot me if I'm wrong (and if I am, all the better since I won't be able to live with the truth) but I think my body's finally starting to piece itself together. Things are fitting together the way that it should.

Still wishing I could be carefree. Or, if not carefree, seem like I am so that people aren't scared away so damn often. It hurts not being able to count my closest friends on more than one hand. As much as I'm trusting people these days (especially with this thing), I still have a ways to go before I find my "happy medium."

Ah, Bridge to Terrabinthia was an amazing book. Especially since the main character wanted to be an artist and the whole gallery scene just before the sadness happened.

I should take a cue from the black-hair-dyed sexiness and write in long coherent sentences. But I don't think anyone wants to know what I'm thinking at the moment.

It seems as if everyone speaking their minds at this moment are getting into much trouble. Case in point: the recent feud between the Kitty and Puddles. (don't worry, just rather odd nicknames for these people) People need to learn to listen. Hell, I need to learn to listen.

Really rude to get annoyed at someone because they're talking about something that you're uninterested in.

Deceptively easy to flirt with the boys who work at grocery stores that are open into the wee hours before sunset. And there are plenty nearby.

Stupid revived libido.

This page needs a revival. Something like the Third Great Awakening sans spiritual enlightenment.

"Random personification is fun."

"I drew the 'Il Matto' card, and you came to mind."

Had a rather bad tiff with grandma about her (sometimes severe) tendency to keep the house clean. She seems to want to keep the house clean every second, so she has to clean the house daily. We tell her not to, but she does and then she berates us for treating her like a maid. This is all... ugh.

And by saturday I'll have two grandmas living under this roof which means that I have to be uber respectful.

I don't want to go out tomorrow. Not with family anyways. If I had the balls to, I would take the Civic out for a drive down I-215 right now, but it's no longer safe to drive down that way at insane speeds with all the windows open. Or I need to find friends who are willing to supply a ride downtown for the 4th. I'm close to going on the CAT bus so I can get out of the house.

Drove today, and dad said that I was almost ready to take my driving test. Approval is great. And yes Marcy, I do seek approval. You kinda get that way when you're raised against your siblings for every little aspect.

. . . .

Wanted: one person with house across the lake (preferably with a green light at their dock); must relish in being the object of others' affections, live splendidly, and a terror behind the wheels. White-clothing lovers a plus.


SWM, 25 HIV+, into cannibal and necro, seek SWM w/ sim. intrsts in 'Nawleans area for mutual hunting.

Guess the books and I'll give you a cookie.

. . . . . posted:||4:30 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I'm on the verge of sleep (given my recent 9am to 5pm sleeping scheduel) which means that I'm potentially doing really odd and out-of-character things.

At the moment I'm getting rather emotional over this Korean movie (this girl's family just died when the roof collapsed on them, and she's the only survivor) but my eyes are still dry.

Not to mention that I'm doing something very Bridget Jones-esque with Chaka Khan songs and a substitute for vodka (diet coke).

I need to plan something for friday with friends. Anything. Hopefully stuff to do with First Friday.

Oh, and Chris gave me this amazing french song to play on the piano. I have three weeks to memorize it (which would be a feat) along with the two other songs I was suppose to have nailed yesterday.

I need eyedrops.

. . . . . posted:||7:39 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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