It's one of those nights (again).

The ones where I abso-effing-lutely hate being male...

Or at least possessing a libido.

Ladies and gents, steer clear. I'm in one of those moods again...

. . . . . posted:||10:39 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Shock. I went to church with the family today... and it was actually more painless than I expected it to be (read: we didn't get Father Kevin and his 20-minute sermons... whoo!).

Father Mark is the best... well, the best at St. Liz's anyways. If it weren't for his monotonous voice, I'd pay more attention to all of his sermons. This week, The Gospel According to Father Mark, Book One: the X-Files. Seriously, he used X-Files (the highly agnostic series) to explain how the Catholic Church denounced the shell-fish fearing ways of Jewish tradition. Pop and I were chuckling internally, just waiting for him to some how sneak in a Star Trek reference... Which he did.

All sorts of great stuff. And now I'm set for most of my art stuff this year.

Finally got the latest issue of XY with a sexalicious blip for Junior Senior. Hells yeah.

Right, time to get back to (home)work.

. . . . . posted:||8:57 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Hmm... an entire Live Journal community for LJers in Las Vegas.

The temptation was too great, I had to scope it out. And... guess what?

I found a LOT of people's LJ's.

This is oddly fun.

. . . . . posted:||8:51 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Digital threat on the computer in the form of an odd teddy bear icon'd virus.

Analog threat with the hot water leakage.

Psychological threat with tempting thoughts of (paternal) grandmother homicide.

And an array of other unmentionables.

Jesus... I take ONE DAY to unwind, and wrenches just happen to be thrown my way.

Especially while trying to get rid of the various viruses currently inhabiting the harddrive. Now I know why systems operators who have to act as digital buffers for the technologically ignorant are very unhappy people.

.... KILL.

. . . . . posted:||8:16 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
There's a hot water leak that's happening somewhere in the house. You can hear it in the pipes in the wall, but you don't know where the hell all that water is going. I guess I wouldn't mind so much if the damned thing isn't costing us a lower body half in heating bills. At least I located the path of the hot water's flow through the house walls... but still no idea where or why there's leakage. Urgh.

. . . . . posted:||5:01 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Excerpts from a letter:

"The first week of school has been far more tiring than I thought. Instead of the usual three days to get settled into our classes, after the first introductory day we hit the ground running. I don't think the new teachers were quite as prepared for the sudden pace, but they seemed to fair well on their toes.

Karen and I have NO lunches together this year, and that's all sorts of damnbitchassmotherfuckingcounsellors, but at least we get to take a class together (Prob. Stats H.). I'm hoping that at some point, while the higher-ups are still shuffling people around, that they'll change the lunch assignments around so we'll have at least one lunch together."

"Today I found out that one of my friends (Emily) had my Even Day lunch so we sat at this table where I was in a perfect position to oogle these two other guys while we looked through her digital camera at the pics she took when she went to visit all her friends in California (including the one that I've been talking to online and want up against a wall in a secluded hallway somewhere). Yep."

"Government AP is another fun class. We don't really focus too much on the textbook... well, no. We do focus on it, but my teacher integrates it with examples from recent political occurances. Oh, and he's dead sarcastic (almost as much as I can be) and a lover of hating George "Dubbya" Bush. We get along just fine. On Thursday I was a bit ticked off that we didn't get to debate a bit about the presence of US troops in Iraq (specifically since the air headed Ashley stalled for time since the bell was about to ring), since it was bound to be better than the discussion we had on Madison's Ten from the Federalist Papers. Yargh. Oh, and he calls Madison a "flaming genius with slippery tendencies.""

. . . . . posted:||4:46 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Interesting conversations night where I realize that all of my non-straight guy friends are always randy at night:

Karen: whats the 'h' stand for?
Chuck: I'm not sure, but it's from Catcher in the Rye
Chuck: anyways... why must I befriend guys who get randy/horny late at night?
Karen: ...
Karen: subconcious freudian slips of friendmaking?
Chuck: I wouldn't mind so much if they lived somewhere near (preferably in the city)
Chuck: but all these boys from across the state/country/planet teasing me is like showing a thirsty man water then upending the glass onto the ground infront of him -_-;;

Chuck: I need muffins
Karen: lol
Karen: cute mini-muffins?
Chuck: naw, BIG muffins
Chuck: since, you know, muffins = sex
Karen: lol
Karen: stud muffins?
Chuck: preferably
Karen: lol
Chuck: no bad muffins
Chuck: some vanilla and/or irish creme muffins would be good

Brett: and now he's angry.... I lead him on.
Brett: ugh.
Chuck: damn, clingy much?
Brett: yes, sireee!
Chuck: you deserve muffins for your pains
Brett: HAHA
Brett: that was great.
Brett: but I do!
Brett: I really do.
Brett: I love muffins. how did you know?
Chuck: ::blinks::

Mike: so
Chuck: buttons on your underwear
Mike: ?
Chuck: "so" buttons on you're underwear
Chuck: but instead of so it should be sex
Chuck: erm, sew
Mike: lmao
Mike: five guesses what Chuck's thinking about
Chuck: :p

Karen: i work 1 to 6 tomorrow >
Chuck: ouch
Chuck: you deserve muffins for that!
Chuck: ... actual muffins, not sex muffins
Karen: lol

And... how the hell did people find my page? I know Marcy knew about it for some time, but then Em was all quotage and then Jyl comes at me for my preppy Avril comment...

I miss the days were my page was nicely ambiguous with only close people to read it. On the other hand, it's out on the web so why the hell not?

Hell, invite Mike over at some point to peruse the archives. Maybe then he'll take a hint that I like him -_-;;

And speaking of Em: "I'm kinda glad that you didn't come to California since then I'd never see Tyler or Aerin because you guys would be too busy having gay sex."

. . . . . posted:||10:32 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
This is completely for the Duck.

The duck goin' fishin' in Medcalf's room.

. . . . . posted:||8:42 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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A confession.

For the past couple of nights I've been having oddly enjoyable dreams. The only problem is that I never seem to remember exactly what the dream was about.

All I know is that I wake up and remember the feeling of soft lips on mine...

Shit. I hate this. I start to be honest, but now I have an overwhelming urge to... shut up? Because I know that I'm being annoying and only people I know in real life and/or those who are bored will be reading what I type here.

I miss last year's no-more-boys policy. Now I'm more likely to find myself singing "I Can't Say No" than "Take Me or Leave Me."

No one should let me wallow in my self pity. Ever.

I need someone to distract me. Or something.

Time to put on some Junior Senior and move it till the adrenaline kicks in.

. . . . . posted:||11:23 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
At some point I'll have to synchronize my scheduel with Tyler's and Ethan's so I can actually get a hold of them online. The one time I've been able to get online in the past 24 hours (thanks to my Calculus, Government, and Lit/Comp. homework taking turns to beat me into the ground and then some) and neither are online. Shite. And... other people that I want to talk to should be online too.

Because they should. And it'd be fun talking to new people.

Claire needs sex. I'm begging anyone to PLEASE get her a man so she stops hitting on and/or attempting to molest me. It's not like the attention isn't flattering... but it gets scary. Very scary.

Does a sudden trip on old Incubus and Stone Temple Pilots songs mean that I'm in a mood again? Yep.

Everytime something like this happens, I pull out this playlist. It makes me happy.

Friday doesn't look like it's going to be a good day at all. All the people that I used to hang out with last year have either graduated or are in different lunches so I'm stuck walking around with people that I barely know. I'm going to have to get to know more people.

Got to embarass myself rightly in Japanese yesterday. Our new sensei has us doing the "bow before class and after class" thing, and since I was the smartest of the three Japanese IV kids in the class, I get to be class leader... Shite. Everytime I have to say "Kiritsu. Rei. Chaku seki." (trans: stand, bow, be seated) which I did fine in the beginning of class... but at the end I forgot which to say first so I had a mild panicing moment (since I was trying to impress sensei... which probably didn't go over too well) and said the wrong word ten times before people cared to correct me. Gahh...

Have to stop beating myself up about stupid things.

It'll be hard, but if I don't want to cave in before graduation I'll have to pull myself through.

Jesus, this year seems harder than Junior year by leaps, bounds, and transatlantic flights.

Karen and I have one class together... and except for the odd hallway encounter and morning meetings, that's the only time we get to see eachother. Hopefully class leveling means that we'll get lunches together during one of the days.

Lots of interesting conversations in Art today:

"Mmmh... But see, there's a difference: he and Tyler want to fuck eachother, but we don't."

Never going to get my latest crush to notice me... at least not yet anyways. Jeez, it's hard having to see him oogle other guys and girls, but at least I'm not particularly close to the guy.

On the other hand... I could be like him where his long-standing crush isn't in ANY of his classes (but he's in several of mine so ha!).

Pirate day yesterday for the entire Art department. Me being historian for Art Club... I got to take pictures. Much fun. I was a bit sad that I was the only new-age, music pirate (cut up an old Napster shirt) with a yellow mohawk strip on my head. Very Hackers like. All I needed was the laptop and I would've been set.

Quack. Medcalf has the coolest fishing hat wearing duck in her room. I took a picture with the digital camera. Should post it at some time.

Right, enough stalling and more homework-ing.

Sorry. Didn't have anything too profound to say. Maybe next time.

. . . . . posted:||10:19 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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So it's only been the second day of school and already I'm getting my ass reamed by Calculus homework. Damn, I wish I studied my logarithms more... but I find something perversely entertaining about solving these puzzles. Eh, I'll chalk that up to the geek inside of me.

The Claire has been hitting on me with even more frevor than she did last year... and I wouldn't mind so much (very flattering, even if there was no chance in hell for her that anything would happen) if she'd lay off the naught bits. -_-;;

During lunch I got bored so the two of us went around trying to find Captain Lonely (this guy that was pure eye candy and sitting by his lonesome) and other freshmen that were off by themselves... But then we realized that she hates people and I scare/disturb people, so the possibility of us making a good impression were slim to none. Damn.

I need to get that girl a boy.

Later on in the day...

So it's only been the second day of school and already I've been in a dimly lit room with a boy. No, nothing like that. I had to watch Mike's movie bit that he made for one of the summer outside assignments.

Doo ti doo.

Oh! And now that Jyl's back, she looks like the missing filipino member of TATU... or a slightly more preppy Avril.

Got a Japanese airliner movie magazine from Nico as well as a poster of the Good Charlotte boys... which would be all fine and fun until I opened it up and there was a poster of John Mayer on the opposite site. Score!

Now to put it next to the fireman calendar and get ready for the third day (and hopefully some school supply shopping afterwards).

. . . . . posted:||4:56 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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You know you go to LVA when:
  • On the first day of school, one of the first people to get caught by the deans for dress code is a guy in large fishnets and black booty shorts

  • Teachers randomly run into the class you have at that moment to annoy your teacher just because they're bored during their prep period

  • You end up sitting at a table during lunch where there's a heated debate over the merits of off-Broadway Jekyll and Hyde vs. David Hasselhoff-style Jekyll and Hyde

  • Two girls are ontop of eachother's laps in one desk, and hardly anyone bats an eyelash about it

  • There are flies and cockroaches the size of cats

  • The new freshmen are too busy crowding around the Knapp/Main stairway to notice that there are alternative routes that involve less squish-age

  • You see mixed groups of guys and girls turn their heads simultaneously to check out another guy/girl walking by

  • Teachers join in while you and a friend are talking about sex

  • All of your teachers are vehement Dubbya critics.

  • The art teachers are coercing you to dress up like pirates on Wednesday
Just a few interesting things that happened on the first day of school... since I don't care to elaborate (used up a lot of thinking power doing my homework). Nor will I be like half of the people out there and post my class scheduel -- if there are any sexalicious stalkers out there who still want to know it, gimme a sign sometime.

And Emily should give back my studded bracelet at some point. Yep yep.

Been on a Guilty Gear/neo-metal trip recently. Unfortunately, sis found out the hard way. I had my GG cd in the living room stereo and sis didn't know that the system automatically played the cd upon turning it on... and the last time I played the cd, I had to turn the volume up to max to hear it over the Hoover.

For a good three seconds it blasted "Holy Orders (Be Just or Be Dead)" and gave sis a much unappreciated headache. Oops.

What the hell... a thunderstorm this early in the morning? This can't be good...

. . . . . posted:||4:39 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Shoot me.

Just spent a good half hour power reading a lot of political articles from the New York Times, the Onion, and other assorted meats... erm, news magazines. All for the sake of passing my Government AP class... yeesh.

Damn do I feel old.

. . . . . posted:||4:11 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hey Matt, I think you can use these.

The Onion | Public Speaking Tips
  • Structure your speech to include a strong opening, a memorable conclusion, and at least six references to your wife sitting in the front row.
  • Rehearse your speech in front of the mirror, if you are attractive.
  • Imagining your audience naked is passé. Imagine them weak, emotionally vulnerable, and thirsty for a peer-shared breakthrough.
  • Kids, if you are preparing to give a class presentation, remember not to be fat.
  • Public speaking is a lot like riding your bike: It's tiring, you get sweaty, and sooner or later you take an iron bar to the nuts.
  • The first step to great speech-giving is great speech-writing. And the only way to master speech-writing is to enroll in one of the many speech-writing courses at Newbury College. Newbury, where your dreams come to life.
  • It's probably best to leave unverified allegations that Saddam Hussein tried to obtain uranium from Africa out of your State Of The Union address.
  • Your audience is just as afraid of you as you are of it. Don't make any sudden movements.
  • Posture is important! When speaking, insert your left hand into your toga and extend your right hand toward the heavens.
  • As a public speaker, you should always be given snacks before speaking. Make this clear to the audience as soon as you get on stage: No snacks, no speech.
  • "Weird Al" Yankovic performs in front of large groups of strangers all the time. If that freak can do it, you ought to be able to manage.
  • Remember, girls: Pear-shaped vowels, crisp consonants. Inhale through the nose, delivering the air to the diaphragm. Exhale in a graceful, circular movement. (This tip courtesy of Miss Eleanor Carlton, headmistress of Miss Carlton's Finishing Academy For Exemplary Young Women, established 1932.)
  • The oldest, best-known public-speaking tip still applies: Shut the fuck up, jackass.

. . . . . posted:||3:49 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I need a hot, all-American Goldenboy with a penache for wearing this unusual looking bead necklace and performing Cuban theatre while standing in a dumpster to serenade me with his guitar.

Naturally, I've yet to meet someone close to what I've described. I can think of three, but they're all missing a requirement or seven.

Hmm... if I can genetically fuse them together...

My recent trip into happy land has left me with absolutely nothing to use as a subject matter for art. Then again, the tortured artist really is one big ol' cliche... but it works. Hmm... maybe do a series of pieces on unconventional love/happiness (or "her penis" if you're from the Beverley Hillbillies movie). Damn, that's what I get for watching Secretary and The Piano Lesson (which really should be in French, but I butcher Japanese enough; I don't need to kill another language with my atrocious grammar).

And for your viewing pleasure, I got bored while working on homework today so I decided to brush up on my inking skills. Literally.

Again with the kinky masochism. Sis says that the guy to the right looks filipino. Damn my subconscious...

And a rather fond memory from the summer of '96. If you can't tell, those are legs.

Eventually I'll get to adding those two to the art pics roster. I'm thinking of using either image for my big-ass painting that I'll eventually do on an odd sheet of bedspread. Actually, I already have the sheet picked out.

Speaking of, been trying to find good Winterreise sheet music that combines the tenor and piano parts together. Found one... and it's too damn easy to be recital-worthy. Still can't get over the fact that I'm considered an advanced piano student.

. . . . . posted:||3:11 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Oh the hot hot heat...

As soon as I get home they break the happy news that the AC unit up and died just after I left for school.

Right now we have a fan in each room attempting to battle the hot air... but it isn't winning at all.

At least I'm not being a whiny bitch like everyone else in the family. It really isn't that hot in this house... just humid. And humid I can (learn to) live with.

Man, now I know how Taylor feels.

. . . . . posted:||9:49 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In the beginning it was all sorts of fun...

"Yay! We're here and it's a new school year!"

But as the initial excitement of seeing people you haven't seen in three months wore off...

"Shit. We're crammed in here and it's a new school year..."

. . . . . posted:||2:57 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
New paintings up. This one is a four-panel polyptich called "I Learned to Dance". It's about not-so-happy sex.

. . . . . posted:||2:07 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sigh. End of the summer excursions... so fun.

Before heading off to the movie, I sang at church for two masses (four hours of sitting and standing... yeesh). We were actually pretty good this week; the sopranos weren't as meek as they usually are (probably thanks to DeeDee singing with) and the new tenor Sandy was able to keep up with all our harmony parts. Need to work on the blending bit since there're far too many diva singers in the choir.

Interesting thing to note: for both of the masses I busied myself on timing how long each priest would take -- the theme for this week was the sanctity of marriage, so it was pointless for me to pay attention (even if I had wanted to in the first place). Fr. Mark took only 6 minutes while the ever verbose Fr. Kevin clocked in at 19 minutes and 7 seconds.

Hey, at least I'm not balancing my checkbook during all of this.

Afterwards I was dropped off at the Village Square theatres since I was dragging Karen and Matt to CAMP, the 2:20pm show. Got there a good hour early so I called up Karen to see what's up and she decided to head over early since she was bored. A couple minutes later we met up with eachother and, sent on reconnaisance by sis, checked out the two nearby clothing stores. Both were hideously expensive and lacked a lot of inspiring designs... well, the Stashed store anyways. When we headed over to Musette we were helped by a major beep on the ol' gaydar (and I swear there were two other gay guys hanging out with their chick friends there at some point) and Karen got all happy when she bought this really kick-ass jacket with lil belt fasteners. I wanted to grab this really nice suit vest that was lined in red with red pinstripes... but that thing was easily $122. I had $35 on me. There were two other shirts that caught my attention: a shirt that said "Jesus Saves... Pawn & Loan" and a nice hoodie from the Irish Rugby League.

Headed to the box office to buy our tickets (still no sign of Matt) when I realized that the time on the board said 2:00pm for our movie. By this time, it was 2:15pm. Crap.

Eventually Matt came 'round (looked more and more emo everytime I see him) and we opted to go watch another movie before catching the later 4:40pm screening. What did we go see? Freaky Friday. While most Disney teen movies (specifically the ones made for the channel) have been crap in recent years... this was actually decent. There's something undeniably fun (yet creepy) about seeing Jamie Lee Curtis act like a teenager. Gotta love her talent. Karen and I oogled the "lost puppy" while Matt kept complaining that the story had been done to death... before succumbing to just enjoying the movie like the rest of us. Oh, and the scary Chinese Mom with the cursed fortune cookies... that's taking the asian mother's perogative to meddle in others' affairs a bit too far. And Oliver Wood at the very end of the movie.

Had a good half hour to kill so we headed to Pick Up Stix (I'll have to go check out that new Japanese restaurant when I have more time) where Matt bought food and the other two poor kids ate some of it... but I only jumped in to help because we were running a bit late and the line at the box office was long... despite the light sprinkling and dramatic light(ning) show in the clouds.

Went and saw CAMP, which is an insanely good movie. Well, if you detest musicals and/or drag queens you might not enjoy it AS much, but still. It made everyone happy... Specifically, Vlad (played by Daniel Letterle) made people very "happy." Having the soundtrack paid off since I was singing along to almost all the songs. Wonderful... there's not way for me to explain how amazing the movie was without going into full spoiler mode. Karen and I got a kick out of the similarities between the characters and our friends.

Afterwards everyone bummed a ride off of Matt (since he's the only one that can legally drive). On the drive to my house I got to hear all about the soap opera/primetime drama known as Forensics at ATech. Jesus Christ... I'm glad that there're only two art major guys in my class who enjoy the company of other men; we don't get much of that drama. Then again... there is an Adrienne and Emily and... eggstaff... in the class so it's not like it's any better...

Oh. Speaking of which, it's a school day today. Albeit much later today, but still.

Time to put that final touch on my oil pastel. And also time to put on the old Liz Phair CDs.

. . . . . posted:||1:32 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Everyone should go out and rent/watch The Happiness of the Katakurisu. It's a bizarre little Japanese comedy about a hotel where guests are constantly dying... and then the owners sing and dance when they find the body and while they're dancing.

It's Bollywood meets The Taxwoman. So funny.

. . . . . posted:||1:02 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Archives finally work properly. Almost three years of reading for your personal viewing pleasure.

1555 posts and still going... relatively strong? Sure, why not.

. . . . . posted:||11:43 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I need to make parodies of songs again. Those make me happy... but I tend to do them on the spur of the moment, and when I try writing them down I think too much about the lyrics to make it sound... not as funny? Yep.

"I was in the turkey! I was there the whole time! It was meeeeee!"

GIR makes me happy too.

And so do... people. Except all the... people... that I know live so damn far away. Yeesh. Karen wants me to make friends with this one guy so she can be seg-wayed into being friends with him too.

Chicago has been playing semi-nonstop for the past two days. Now I feel like slimming down to 106 like Ms. Zellweger and donning a lavaliere that goes all the way down to my waist... except that getting that weightless is definitely unhealthy and I don't think anyone makes quality lavalieres anymore.

Speaking of vomiting, the grandmas are using rancid meat. Ate some of said meat today for lunch and had to eat massive amounts of sugar to keep the food down. So much for dieting. I'll start again tomorrow after that new Japanese restaurant.

Dad's been occilating between Encino Man, the Arizona Sports Report, various ESPN channels, the Golf Channel, and Bravo. With the exception of the latter, I'm beginning to get annoyed... just a bit. ::brandishes kitchen knife::

And now... True Life: I'm Getting Implants. At times like these I wish we could still use PIP.

Right. Time to sleep. I have to be up early tomorrow to get ready to sing... infront of all those old stiffs. It could be fun... right?

On a side note, Harry Potter can become a very dirty book when words (wand) are mispelled (wang). It's like the Star Wars Pants page... but funnier.

. . . . . posted:||10:02 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I need to get drunk/ high/ stoned/ inebriated to do that damned thing that I have to do. Unfortunately, my liver and kidneys have been taking a beating for almost an entire year, so I doubt they'd be able to handle that sudden in flux of vice. Shite.

Guess I'll have to drink the closest thing to a mood-altering beverage that I can... coffee!

Oh wait. That thing DOES have caffiene in it.

This could be fun.

. . . . . posted:||9:12 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
This ticks me off... Haven't made ANYTHING good in the past... month or so? Just almost-perfect stuff which goes horridly wrong in the last possible moment. I hate crap acrylics.

The week's over. School's about to start. Damn, haven't done much in the way of homework.

And now I have severe munchies for some macaroni and cheese... With no cheese. This should be interesting.

So typical... the one time I have a lot of time on the computer and all the fun people aren't online. I'm in the need of a nice, involved conversation... not the games of phone-tag and the quips over IM (although both are welcome distractions).

Oh well.

. . . . . posted:||11:46 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Ladies and gents, I present to you the sexy, french-enthusiast boy:Brett.

Yeah, I'm sad. I thought we established that one already.

And all the recent rush of hotness on LJ makes me want to get an account too... but then I'd have to give this lil baby up, and I'm not ready to break almost three years of tradition.

Grrr... People should call me and/or pick up their phone when I call them. So far, hardly anyone has gotten back to me about the movie on Sunday.

Karen, we WILL have fun watching that movie, even if we're the only ones going!

Just outside of the church there was a group of people who just had a baptism. Coolest thing about them: everyone was talking in sign language. Even the priest that was talking with them was speaking to one of them with his hands. That's something you hardly see everyday.

Then, post-choir-practice, I passed by this couple who were coming in to practice for their wedding ceremony. The girl looked like Lucy Liu... and the guy looked like Jon. That was odd.

Student Council is getting some nice slave labor out of sis and I. We've been writing the teacher posters for a good two hours while watching Amelie (which makes me want to go to a photobooth and take piccies) and we're still not done.

On a plus side, tomorrow the posters will be finished (left the faculty roster at school... oops), giving sis and I the chance to help HAN out with decorating the Japanese room for bokutachi no atarashi Nihongo no sensei Lee. Apparently he's Korean, so HAN bonded with him over some well placed Korean jokes. Fun fun.

Need to get my homework finished. At least I don't have as much to do as sis does.

. . . . . posted:||11:51 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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General asshats
Circle I Limbo

Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

Militant Vegans
Circle IV Rolling Weights

Parents who bring squalling brats to R-rated movies
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

Circle VII Burning Sands

Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

DMV Employees
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

. . . . . posted:||11:29 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You're gay, but open-minded. You prefer sex with
members of your own sex, but you know that the
right person is the right person, no matter
what their genitals look like. You have the
guts and self honesty to try bisexuality if it
ever seems right for you.

How Bisexual are You?


. . . . . posted:||8:58 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Hiding. You deal with your depression by wearing a
mask. No one ever knows your depressed, so no
one can ever pity you. On the outside you're
calm and collected. Inside, your blood boils...
But that's ok, as long as everyone thinks
you're normal.

How do you deal with your depression?
brought to you by Quizilla

Yay. It's... accurate?

. . . . . posted:||11:52 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The rain came falling down Moses-style.

It's summer in the effing desert. We're not suppose to have HAIL coming down. First noticed as I was typing away in yon computer, so Tyler and Mike heard all about the ice-cube-sized balls of frozen-ness. As soon as I heard the (close) thunder and noticed that the hail was starting to slice into the window screen, turned off the computer and made my way upstairs to get some sleep.

Woke up two hours ago and saw some interesting things on the TV News. Mainly people acting like idiots trying to get to higher ground (this guy ontop of a U-Haul tried jumping to safety, but collided his head with the concrete post of the overpass and -- luckily -- fell into a patch of shallow water), cars floating down the streets, streets turning into the color of Willy Wonka's chocolate river, and people brushing the water out of their houses.

It's as if our own personal Mississippi River overflowed... or we got a baby-sized Filipino flood. At least the casualties here (none so far) don't number past a thousand.

Hopefully the waters won't be so high come the first day of school... since I'd hate to see the school submerged in five feet of water. Half the student body would subsequently drown (including all the IS and Art majors).

Three inches of rain in the span of an hour... and our annual rainfall is four inches. Okay, NOW I'm demanding snow for Christmas.

And dogmannit, this weather better not disrupt my plans for a group movie-watchin' of CAMP (since I didn't get to watch it like I was suppose to...).

In other news, the new Japanese teacher is a certified cutey. I get to serve him and other faculty breakfast tomorrow. Joy.

. . . . . posted:||11:48 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I have this really unnerving urge to do... something. Like an itch on your back that you can't coerce anyone else to erotically scratch. Haven't blinked for the past twenty minutes so my eyes are dry like something fierce. Blink. Much better.

Nervously looking around at the moment. Namely, I'm looking at the tree outside and counting all of the individual leaves. But no, I'm not bored. I'm stalling (again). For something... which is really sad since I don't know what the hell I'm trying to avoid.

Oh yeah. Piano lessons that I haven't practiced in the least bit for. I'm thinking o f quitting so I can play intrinsically, but I promised Chris that I'd finish that damnable Gershwin song before I head off to college. And Brian won't be able to lay on the thick music theory anymore. Which could be a good thing... yeah.

I doubt that I'll be helping Student Council as frequently as I thought. Damn.

I damn too many things. Gr.

So, since I don't want to go practice my song for piano again (last-minute practicing will only improve it so much) let's do something else... Hmm...

The Summer in Review: started off strong with several unusual happenins (Halley, me going to summer parties, SLEEP) to general stoicism and slothery (sleep, not doing much), occasional productivity (portraits, reading those books for AP, short story), seething rage and annoyance (the house guests), more online talk-time (Tyler and other Tyler and other Tyler namely), and then the mad rush this last week to make sure that everything is completed and ready for school.


On the plus side, I get to go watch CAMP (which is FINALLY playing at Village Square) after piano.

Argh... piano.

Mmm. Sexy voice, man. Wish I had one like that.

Ow. Neck hurts. ::crack:: Better.

Speaking of, I should get myself something nice, angsty, and life-threatening. Going along with the fact that I've been really happy and most everyone else has been really shite... I figure that I should give myself some sort of nervous breakdown and everyone else will be happy again. Yep. I should do that.

Dammit... Guess I'll go practice afterall.

. . . . . posted:||5:47 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Why oh why must all my online friends be far far away?

Especially with Tyler's... erm, Tyler-ness.

And Ethan's Maine-ness.

Yeah. I'll stop now.

Hugs and ice cubes to all, yo!

. . . . . posted:||1:53 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Damn my Freudian slips...

Tyler: I'm used to writing elegant and cursivey... not small and type-facey
Tyler: my hand aches
Chuck: aw, I should give you one of my great hand jobs
Tyler: o.O
Tyler: don't worry, I've done almost the same thing many times
Chuck: dammit, I'm turning into you (again)
Tyler: exactly

And... and... Dammit, yes! I like the new Liz Phair cd! ::cries::

Ahem. Projects are almost finished. One more go-over with fixative on the pesty charcoal one and add the final lettering to the oil pastel one... and I'm set.

Need more oil pastels. I'm liking them better than acrylic paints now.

. . . . . posted:||9:27 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Quiz Time:

shy. likable. smart.
Which 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower' character are you?

Billy Flynn:
The Silver Tongued Prince of the Courtroom.
Women want you and Men Want to be
you... what more could you want...?
Which Chicago Character Are You?

Couldn't do too many quizzes since my eyes are nice and dry and hurting like a cat through many shards of glass.

Luckily, I don't have to do too much cleaning today so I can get crackin' on all those pieces I'm suppose to do!

Aw crap... eyes. Damn you, you sack of optical nerves!

Right, enough stalling.

. . . . . posted:||11:04 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Ten filipinos. Four and a half bedrooms. Kitchen table that seats six. Two showers.

Next week is going to suck.

. . . . . posted:||7:54 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh the hilarious-ness from Andy.

Training Your White Boy in Ten Easy Lessons

1. HYGIENE. Everyone knows that body odor is the curse of the white man. On general principle, you should refuse sex with your White Boy at least once a week on the grounds that he smells. You will need to introduce him to the Asian Life Cycle: Shower-Gel-Cologne/Shower-Gel-Cologne (also known as Bed, Bath and Beyond). Let's start at the beginning: Showering. How often does your White Boy shower? Whatever. It's not enough. He may vaguely know that he needs to shower after he's been to the gym, but does he do it immediately, before any as yet-to-be-named bacteria start festering in his bushes? (Speaking of which, he should be neatly trimmed down there. Asians hate feeling like they're screwing a tumbleweed). Brand-name body washes only-bar soap is so tacky-and no pink puff sponges. Get your White Boy a manly loofa. Gelling. Many would argue that styling a White Boy's hair is a waste of good gel. We disagree. Everyone can benefit from gelling, even the White Boy. Hell, if KMS, Joico, and Paul Mitchell can make lab animals look fabulous, think what they can do for your cuddly-wuddly White Boy. And remember, when it comes to gelling, quality AND quantity are equally important. Cologning. Your White Boy will need to learn the proper use of cologne-NOT to mask body odor because he hasn't showered in two days. Be bold! You want to be able to sniff him out of a crowd of White Boys doused in Eternity and Abercrombie. Out: D&G and Gaultier, the official colognes of flaming queens. In: Xeryus Rouge and Cool Water. And no economizing. If your Asian stepsisters ever found out your White Boy was wearing a Fabulous Fake, you'd never hear the end of it.

2. CLOTHES. White Boys can't dress, a disability closely connected to their inability to shop. This handicap can be so severe we've known Rice sisters to arrange a stop at the nearest Gap before continuing with the first date. We suggest you begin by going through his apartment and gathering up all those old sweat shirts, socks with holes, ancient underwear, sweaters knitted by his mom, favorite old sneakers, jock straps, unwashed gym clothes, ripped jeans, anything with Dockers on it, long-sleeved plaid shirts, cowboy hats and boots, etc. Put them in a big pile in the yard and burn them. Tell him you donated them to one of those AIDS charities-in Africa. Now the educating can begin. No boat shoes with sweat pants. No sandals with socks. No loafers without socks (in fact, lose the loafers altogether - that is soooo Lowe's). No piercings below the belly button. No more than one tattoo. No "look at my butt crack, I'm not wearing underwear" look. Have him practice the fine art of mixing and matching using a Billy doll. Start with solids then work up to more daring circuit outfits. Or, if you want to make it easier on both of you, establish this simple rule: All White Boy outfits must be approved prior to leaving your overpriced studio. At this point you can begin imparting the most precious part of your Asian cultural heritage-the Art of the Label. He must learn that labels do not begin with "A" and end with "F." You might want to give him a cheat sheet he can carry in his wallet with all the approved designer acronyms on it, what they stand for, and the location of their flagship stores. Until he can spot the letters D&G across the dance floor you cannot consider your White Boy trained. Try this test: Put a pair of Wrangler and a pair of CK jeans in front of him. Scream FIRE! Which one does he grab on his way out?

3. DANCING. Everyone knows that White Boys can't dance. Yet they insist on doing it anyway. If his dancing is especially goofy, trying pulling him into the center of the dance floor. Hopefully there won't be enough room for his karate chops, high-kicks, and seizure-like moves. Tell him to keep it simple-he doesn't have to be a Brittany Spears back-up dancer. Swaying in place (no matter how rhythm less) is better than looking like Godzilla stomping his way through Tokyo. If all else fails, put your arms around him from behind and hold tight. He'll think you're being romantic. (Of course, when it's time to show off your moves, you'll want your White Boy out of the way. This is a good time to send him on an errand to the car.)

4. SEX. Your White Boy is likely to have any number of unacceptable sexual preferences. You may find that he is "versatile," that he sleeps with his friends, that he spends time thinking up new and unusual ways to have sex. Remind him that having sex on or near a bed can be a cute change of pace. And no, he does not get to give you a blowjob in the middle of the dance floor. Hello! With girlfriends watching? And not in the car, either-that is for fucking around and you guys are married now. (By the way, what kind of car is he driving? If it's Korean-made or more than two years old, it's a problem. Of course, you don't want to embarrass him. Just firmly insist that you park in the nether reaches of China Basin. If he asks why, point out that a little extra exercise walking to the club wouldn't hurt him.)

5. VALUES. At this point you're ready to introduce your White Boy to the concept of Traditional Asian Values. We have no idea what these are, but since White Boys will believe anything you tell them about your exotic culture we say work it girl! For example: Open relationship? Absolutely not. You guys are 24/7. If there's going to be any adultery it's to be done the Traditional Asian Way-by sneaking around, thank you.

6. FOOD. The same principle applies. Make a mistake in the kitchen? Just tell him it's your favorite ethnic dish from childhood. If he balks at your pork blood pudding stew suggest he try it with hot sauce. (Then again, since you've gone to the ends of the earth to land your White Boy, why poison him with your cooking?)

7. GUILT. You will find that your White Boy responds extremely well to guilt. Remind him frequently what his people did to your people-colonialism blah-blah-blah. Being a modern Asian Boy, of course, you personally have forgiven white people, but you're not so sure about the folks back home. This will set the stage for divorcing him from unhealthy attachments to country music, heavy metal, Beethoven, the classics of Western literature, etc. Remind him that there's no room for cultural imperialism in your relationship as you crank up the volume on your favorite Japanese pop singer, collected love songs of the King of Thailand, karaoke hits of the 1970s, etc.

8. THE RICE QUEEN CURE. This is the most challenging task you will face. We suggest this strategy: When you catch your White Boy drooling at another Asian, wait till he's not looking, then go up to the Asian and whisper in his ear: "This is MY White Boy. If you look at him again your face is a scratching post." Word will spread and soon your White Boy will wonder why no Asians cruise him anymore. Now you've got him where you want him ... the less self-esteem he has, the more power you have. Of course other Asians aren't looking at him-he's balding, he's hairy, he's smelly, he's old-you are the only Asian in the world that would put up with his sorry White ass, etc., etc. A few catty comments can quickly undo years of therapy.

9. FRIENDS. There are two schools of thought on this issue. One says that you hate his friends (more annoying White Boys), but he HAS to like yours. When he's integrated into your circle, your friends can help with the training. For example, they can flirt with him, and if he flirts back you can bust him (the important thing about fucking around is not whether it's done or not but who gets caught first). Through your circle of friends you can continue to control your White Boy even after you break up-deciding who he will date and whether he will date at all. There is a second school of thought, however, that says you should never trust your wicked step-sisters with your White Boy. He is allowed to speak to them only in your presence, and you reserve the right to end the conversation at any time. If he complains that he's being smothered and you're acting insecure...well Mr. White Boy, you're not dating Asians for the serenity are you?

10. KEEPING THE BOY IN YOUR WHITE BOY. One last thing, your White Boy is masculine, right? Of course he is. (Although, if he follows all the advice in this list, he might not be anymore-fortunately, you can count on him to fail one or more lesson.) However, just to make sure he's not prone to any unwanted expressions of his feminine side we recommend that you get him fucked up on the first date. If there's a girl lurking inside your White Boy, drugs and alcohol will bring it out.

The Care and Feeding of Your Gay Asian Male

Congratulations! You are now the proud boyfriend of your very own Gay Asian Male. With the proper maintenance (read: high maintenance) your GAM will give you months if not years of exasperating pleasure.

1) Hair, part I. If you're a Rice Queen you love straight, black hair. But forget about ever touching it. Anyway, it would be like running your fingers through a chain link fence, because....

2) Hair, part II. The Gelling Hour. Time stops when the GAM is gelling. This is his special, private time. Don't try to watch and whatever you do don't pressure him to hurry--if he makes a mistake he'll insist on starting all over again. The best thing to do is leave the house. And don't bother trying to time YOUR preparations with HIS. The gelling never starts until you are ready to leave. This is to ensure he will have the bathroom to himself.

3) When shopping with the GAM and his girlfriends take care that you never place your body between them and a label on sale or you'll end up roadkill.

4) When you smell an unbearable stench coming from the kitchen it means the GAM is cooking his native food. (a) Congratulations. If he's cooking for you, consider yourself married. (b) Clean your plate. Ungratefulness is among the worse of the 7 Deadly Sins of a Boyfriend in Asian belief systems ("What? I'm cooking for your already and you complain? So what if it's pork-blood-kim-chee-fungus soup!!!")

5) Equipment.. and we don't mean sex toys. If you're serious about dating GAMs you will need a rice cooker (see the earlier list "How to Not Be a Rice Queen"). He will laugh at anything less than 12-cup capacity. And while you're at it, get a rice dispenser too. The sight of a sack of rice laying on the kitchen is likely to make the GAM moan in disgust.

6) And before we leave the subject of food... say goodbye to desserts, dairy products, and ???.

7) If you are lucky your he will not know how to drive or, on general principle, will insist that you do it. If he does drive be sure your premiums are paid, your seat belt is fastened, and your air bag is working. And bite your tongue. By now, you've discovered that your GAM is adverse to criticism. Confucius says: "If you don't have anything nice to say, say it behind his back."

8) You can always count on your GAM to be in touch with his inner needs, wants, desires, and opinions. No need for expensive therapy here. The same goes for you. You only have one need now--your GAM--and since your needs are now met, you can concentrate on meeting his.

9) When your he is talking to his girlfriends in his native tongue and you hear your name mentioned smile like they're saying nice things about you. Of course they're not, but GAMs think white boys are stupid and it's best to keep it that way. Later, when you've learn to recognize key words in his language you can guess what they're talking about from the context* and say something relevant. This will make them wonder just how much you do understand. Keep them wondering. (*This is easier than you think. It will either be clothes, money, men, haircuts, or whichever friends of theirs aren't in the room at the time.)

10) Welcome to the extended family. It's just as dysfunctional as the nuclear family, only ten times as large. If he is in the closet, so are you. A second bedroom, a second phone line, and so on will be essential to the elaborate ruse you will need to maintain on the off-chance that your in-laws arrive on the Orient Red-Eye one day to pay a surprise visit (read: inspection tour). And don't think you can ever escape his family. Cousins, nephews, nieces, brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles extend like tentacles across the globe, keeping their eye on their wayward GAM relative, and always with one urgent question on their lips: When is he (and his nice American roommate) going to GET MARRIED. On the rare chance that the family accepts you as the GAM's "special friend" you better get yourself a calendar with Asian holidays--your social life is committed from now until the next Year of the Dragon.

11) Sex. Get rid of your leather harness, ropes, poppers, and other white boy fetishes. Your GAM is vanilla. At least sexually. Mentally there could be some torture. OH, and you ARE a top aren't you? Of course you are or you never would have made it past #1! (Don't be confused if he grabs your ass on the first date--he's not a top, he's just checking size of your wallet.)

12) If you've made it this far, congratulations. You are now in a long-term relationship with your very own GAM. Now try to forget about the fact that there are 1 billion Asian men in the world that you will never have. And as you plan your life together remember: designer jeans, cell phones, and cologne are necessities, not luxuries.

. . . . . posted:||12:32 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Gr. Why the hell do people use gouache largely for floral/landscape paintings? Can't find any decent (realistic) paintings of figures with accurate skin tones. C'est la vie...

After this is week is all said and done, I won't touch Student Council anymore... except for the occasional, guilt-induced volunteering. Quite honestly, I'd rather go help out with the Art Department's auditions on Friday than do that stupid Dress Code skit for the "incoming students" (can't really call them "those freshmen people" like Zinner did since not all of them are freshmen).

On a plus side, Taylor's staying in LVA. Yay!

Reason number #327 for my need for more male friends: I'm getting sick and tired of painting/drawing women all the time. All my current guy friends are more than unwilling to model, while I have plenty of girls who would strike a pose. Curse my school's 7:1 girl:boy ratio.

... I need to find more entertaining things to do if I'm willingly complaining about art.

Anyone want to distract me?

. . . . . posted:||5:16 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Currently in one of those odd moments where everything feels so surreal. For instance, the back of my head is completely numb at the moment, and if I concentrate hard enough I can reach into the back of my head and play around with my brain.

You know, one of those moments.

Then again, I always get that way when I'm watching The Winter Guest (yes, it's on again). Something about the ubiquitous white snow everywhere... it's tranquilizing. Like Aaron is to Emily and HAN when he's around them.

Snow should not be freezing and hard-packed like many snowball bullets. Snow should be fluffy and yellow-free. I want snow this year. And if the monsoon season is any indication of winter, we may very well have some.

All I need now is the find my tape of Winterreise (or manage to find myself the DVD somewhere) and the winter in August theme would be set. I'm already listening to punk/indie-rock covers of christmas music.

Worked on and off on this colored pencil piece all night long. On the off parts I took out the massive amounts of unlabeled tapes that were stacked in the corner of the room and went through them to label them accurately. In doing so, I found a couple of tapes that I've been meaning to watch: The Pillow Book, Edge of Seventeen, The Manor House episodes, some Season 6 Buffy ones (nice and angsty), and the hilarious 25th Anniversary Special on the Rocky Horror Picture Show (with Anthony Stewart Head sporting fishnets, tramp-boots, and shaking his hips/shoulders to the music as he sings... joyous).

Currently taking a break from either activity since the VCR is too busy re-recording The Winter Guest (I didn't get the first half hour the first time around).

Before the movie came on, I was watching this episode of Save By the Bell inbetween tapes, and they were playing the episode about SAT scores and how Jessie was completely stressing over them... much like HAN was doing earlier this... erm, morning? Yes. The best part was where they said that a 1200 was Doogie Howser-worthy... ha. Haha. I laugh. Heartily.

Right, time to stop ranting on and on. At least today I don't have to go to school for five hours.

. . . . . posted:||5:38 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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"For Other Eyes" - Elvis Costello
I don't know what I would do
If this letter should fall into
Other hands than it should pass through
For other eyes

He said, "It was nothing...it's over and done"
But the rotten worm was burrowing still
Its spirit invades me, bleeding me white
For other replies

I searched his pockets I searched his eyes
I searched his wallet for clues and lies
And I found a number that I somehow dialed
A woman answered, a woman smiled

Then she hung up...
on the silence...
Innocently spun her rolodex
I dialed again
I could not resist
Revealing just the dentist receptionist

One day we'll laugh about it or maybe we'll curse
But there is one thing that is making it worse
And it's the lack of forgiveness that I can't disguise
No matter how well he lies
Now we don't know each other anymore
And when we touch our lips feel sore
I question the longing left in his sighs
For other eyes
Lyrics taken from here.

Yes, I have a bizarre taste in music. But you can't deny that this song is awfully pretty. Especially with all the melancholy strings in the background. Yep. Now... if I can manage to find a copy of the CD I wouldn't be forced to get these songs.

Curse this small house and it's lack of ballroom dancing... erm, room.

. . . . . posted:||8:28 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Any tips for a new vegan who can't choke down enough protein through nuts and beans to sustain life?

Jamies answer:
Here’s a tip for you Toby, stop being a vegan and start enjoying what you eat! J

Jamie Oliver is great and all sorts of wonderful. Yep yep.

. . . . . posted:||12:44 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Everyone should come over and play billiards at Jillians with me.

Especially since I got to play next to some sexy scottsmen yesterday.

And that was loads of fun.

Even when they were hitting on the (other) blonde waitress.


. . . . . posted:||10:44 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh jesus... There's a reason why I only let myself sleep four to nine hours each day.

Thirteen hours of sleep later and my back is in all sorts of knots. Like... that one famous knot that I can't think of at the moment, but Alexander the Great cut it in half instead of trying to solve it... but instead of rope, it's made of spine. My spine.

Hey... anyone want to go masseur on my sorry ass? Please?

. . . . . posted:||4:16 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Come on.

Just try and stop me from grinning like an idiot.

I dare you to.

. . . . . posted:||6:05 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Well, this is sad.

I was working on this painting (for purely intrinsic purposes) when I realized that the thing would be perfect for one of the pieces I have to do for art over the summer. There's definitely some extreme forshortening in this painting.

But.. two problems: it's painted, not drawn (like the summer pieces are suppose to) and it's by no means school appropriate. So, dash all my hopes of using this one...

I've been neglecting my portraits (which are now bone-dry) for one main reason: whenever I'm working on them, the eyes never cease to freak me out. The only one that's looking any where near decent is Mike's... and if it werent' for the charcoal peaking underneath the oil paint, the damn thing would be practically perfect.

Shite. Two more weeks till school starts. Time to re-read the summer books (this time getting quotes for discussion purposes) and get cracking on other things.

Could be worse... I could be starting school on Monday. Like Barto and Tyler.

Elvis Costello + Bronsky Quartet = happiness.

. . . . . posted:||3:40 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Things You've Learned from the People Who Matter (Part 1):

The Family
sis: brothers and sisters don't have to be at eachothers throats to be close and more or less civil

mom: cleaning house is more of a ritual than a chore, per se

pop: bullying people can be an effective way to push them into being who they can be (at the expense of developing a deep connection with said person)

parents: marriages work if and only if the cardinal rule is obeyed by the husband: you can be two things... you can be wrong or you can be happy

grandma1: the stories everyone tells you aren't always true... even if they're trusted family members

grandma2: cardgames are a welcome ice-breaker, so always have a deck at hand

uncle: sarcasm is a good tool to lighten up a heavy situation

aunt: yes, interracial marriages with 10 year age differences CAN work

Joe: burning incense does NOT make you a druggy like your grandma said

Richard: videogames are a healthy way to pass extremely dull moments...

the M & M twins: ...but excessive reliance on videogames forever mires one into a sandtrap of geekdom

Carlo: even lil kids need to have their egos knocked down every now and then

Gabo: some people's personalities defy categorization... even if you still wanna go to LVA to be a dance major

Tita Maritess: dissecting co-workers with sarcasm is fun for the whole family
Elementary School
Nick: the best friends stick through you even when the entire 2nd grade is against you

Anita: yes, people can actually be afraid of snakes

Leah: not everyone's Catholic

Stephanie: no dear, you are gay (4th grade)

Jim: yep, you're gay... but that's unnatural (5th grade)

Ryan: you're crap at sports, you know?

Andrew: starring at boys will get you pummeled

LaPointe: you're a cute kid... but you need anger management

the school counselor: no... thoughts of suicide at this age are far from normal

Hentz: you can break pencils when you get angry... just not other people's pencils

the art teacher: you have a talent, my friend

James: Hi. You can call me Topher... (insert lots of good and bad)
Cates: yes, bald-headed men going on 30 can be really cool

Weaver: wow, you're pretty good at singing for going through puberty

Steven: yeah, some of use asians have white parents... it's called adoption

Chris L: you so do NOT want to be me

Elliot: you're shite at sports, you do know that

Jenilyn: girls can be your best friend, you know?

Jacob: yes, people gravitate to my ego, bwahaha!

Dayoob: (taught the summerschool art class I took) You know... I think you could make a living off of this

the graphic arts teacher: you have a good grasp on image designs

Petrenko: even teachers break down and cry sometimes

7th grade social studies teacher: yeah, you can borrow some of my Anne Rice books

Michael: that was fun, but we can't keep doing that

Sahith: the pursuit of knowledge is a nobel goal as long as you're not an ass about it

Blair: you can be such an ASS

Ryan K: you're closeted too?

Ashley P: yep, those spoiled rich kids DO exist

Ian: ... and so do punker/skaters/ravers our age

Dana: girl tomboys are so too cool

John and Anna: church music doesn't have to be boring hymns

Sensei Ron: martial arts is more about discipline than fighting

Andrew: you can't be perfect at everything... that's my job

(in Vegas)

Carpenter: yeah, teachers can be dead sexy too

Chris O: there are a LOT of filipinos in this town

Jenny: faking a crush is surprisingly easy

Josh: appearances are so not what they seem
Catherine R: there are other, better types of music out there

Sarah: people can change their outlooks, so you shouldn't brand someone for life

Miller: teachers can be uber cool before they go bipolar

Treat: be thankful you don't have a Jewish mother

Jackson: now you're lusting after a teacher... good for you!

Eric: not everyone can appreciate a romantic

Liz: fuck convention

Drew: people do use sex to control others

Lambert: a tough class means a smarter student

Andruss: never wear black in a ceramics room... it won't stay that way for too long

Rica: yep, there're other people who like anime and jpop

Theo: fuck gender

Hoffman: some classes are meant to be only socializing classes

Flavey: poor boy, allow me to educate you in the ways of bacchanal living

Alexis: being obsessed with Broadway isn't a bad thing!

Taylor: people can be sexy-ugly too

Claire: hugs are to be dispensed indiscriminately

Marcy: being dark and dreary isn't half as bad as you think

Jyl: yes, there are cool filipinos out there... GO FIND THEM!

Adrienne: they're not cat ears... they're a life accessory

Kristen: people have your problems too, so don't feel alone

Matt: friendship can be something more than convenient

Karen: a good friend is one that'll listen and be the appropriate shoulder to cry/rant on

Jaron: no, you won't be the musical god of whatever instrument you play... that's my job

Patti: choir directors can be very cool

Lee: with a good haircut, 40-somethings can still look 20-something

Emily: being a kook is a good thing

Emmelle: if someone's quiet, that doesn't mean that they're depressed

Mikey: even the smartest of us need someone to check answers with

Kloster: history geeks are just as cool as everyone else

Alford: colored people can be just as prejudiced/biased as any typical WASP

Randy: yes, you can make friends with straight guys

Mary: nothing says "fuck you" like good ol' passive aggression

Leah: you can be perky with a dark interior

Athenas: driving in a corset is a hard thing to do

Michaels: female rice queens DO exist

Zack: when you get rejected, it's okay to mope as long as you move on

HAN: I may be asian, but I'm still a slacker

Jon: some people are damn good at hiding behind a happy facade

Vee: lesbians listen to A Perfect Circle too

Casey: behold the powers of sexual frustration

Nico: craziness abounds

Patryzja: beauty is subjective

Adam: every now and then you need to sit back, point, and go "ah ha!"

Joey: not all the gay guys in this school have to be bitchy towards the other

Justin: activism is a good thing

Taylor: being cynical is okay as long as you're true to your emotions when it counts
Tony: bipolar people make the perfect stone to sharpen your listening skills on

Tyler: pretty people can be lonely too

Steven: other guys have your problem too

Paul: being able to say what you want to say intelligently isn't a bad thing

Megan: nope, you're still gay... so stop trying to disprove it

Tink: people change, and only true friends stick with them
Yep. I'll post some more when I remember them.

Be happy, this'll be one of those rare, emotionally evicerating posts that I seldom type anymore.

. . . . . posted:||2:40 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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"Here's Where I Stand" (from the movie CAMP)
Here in the dark, I stand before you
Knowing this is my chance to show you my heart
This is the start, This is the start

I have so much to say and I'm hopin'
That your arms are open
Don't turn away, I want you near me
But you have to hear me

Here's where I stand, Here's who I am
Love me, but don't tell me who I have to be
Here's who I am, I'm what you see

You said I had to change and I was tryin'
But my heart was lyin'
I'm not that child any longer
I am stronger

Here's where I stand, Here's who I am
Help me to move on but please don't tell me how
I'm on my way, I'm movin' now

In this life we've come so far
But we're only who we are
With the courage of love
To show us the way
We've got the power to stand up and say

Here's where I stand, Here's where I am
Stand up and be counted, I'm counting on you
If you're with me, We'll make it through

Here's where I stand, Here's who I am
Love me, love me, love me and we'll make it through
Here's where I stand
Baby, baby, baby I'm counting on you

Here's where I stand
Love me, love me, love me and we'll make it through
I'm counting, I'm counting
I'm counting, I'm counting on you

from IFCFilms.com.

Yep, another one of those nights. The ones where I tend to get too personal with the things that I say... and I say screw it.

It seems that everyother time I go after someone, I end up befriending and (quickly) find myself giving them advice to pursue the people that they're crushing on. Yes, boy, twist that knife just a little bit more. And don't forget to rub lemon juice and salt generously on the blade and wound.

It's enough to make anyone feel like a Mr. Cellophane.

What a lot of people don't know about me (and feel lucky if you're still reading this because somewhere in the near future I'll probably delete this bit) is that despite my ambitions, I'm a very submissive person... and not in the way that can be readily taken advantage of.

I doubt that most people's fantasies consist of sleeping at the foot of someone's bed... but I do. I want to be someone's catamite. (taking applications for the position of catamite master... NOW)

Yeah, so I held back on all the things I've been thinking about. If you really want to hear the whole story, you'll have to get me drunk sometime. Or feeling really positive. Those're the only times I willingly dispense information. Sorry.

In other news, IM'd Matt (who's currently at the summer debate-camp at Stanford) but his roommate was the one that was on instead. Had a short conversation with him (where he complimented my nihongo and we discussed the completely unlikely event of research being exciting... unless it's to research something that would get one arrested) and it was rather pleasant. Next time I catch him online, I'll have to ask for his own screenname.

I'll write more later (in a different post) since my computer seems to have the plague at the moment.

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

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Jesus... College tuition is one hell of a bitch.

::sings:: Oh lord, won't you buy me a Bachelor's Degree...

. . . . . posted:||1:56 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
All holy hell...

Stupid evil friggin' bad thoughts. Why the hell can't you be impure thoughts? Those I'm more accustomed to handling.

Well, the bad thoughts too. But more so the self-depreciating bad thoughts. Not the vicious kind that tends to re-open old wounds.

Time to get some sleep.

Oh wait... all that coffee I had won't let me go to bed. Crapper.

Anyone want to bring/buy me some eyedrops?

. . . . . posted:||3:40 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Another obligatory conversation post since I doubt anyone wants to know what's on my mind. Yep.

mike: is it weird that i'm downloading old Gap commercials?
chuck: is it the one with Orlando Bloom?
mike: no
chuck: then... that is odd
chuck: unless it's the one with Will Kemp
chuck: dancing around in denim
mike: ...nope
mike: it's the one with the singing models
chuck: I remember those
mike: some of the guys are hot. especially this one guy.
chuck: well, if that's the reason why... then it's perfectly normal
mike: okay, good

tyler: Fourth grade?
chuck: yep
chuck: been drawing naked men ever since
tyler: Hm... I didn't become interested till at least seventh...
chuck: damn
chuck: I was more like:: "doo ti doo... playing with blocks... hm, I like boys better than girls... oh! legos!... doo ti doo"
tyler: yeah, fourth grade, I didn't even like girls
tyler: waited till sixth for that
tyler: then seventh I was like "hm... she's hot... hm.... he looks like she... he's hot too..."
tyler: then eighth "...they're all hot... *licks lips*"

chuck: but... having serious conversations all the time ages us unnecessarily
tyler: agreed
chuck: and I'll be damned if I reach my midlife crisis before gradschool
chuck: hmm... all I need now are some eye drops and I'll be set tonight
tyler: my stomach just started getting in a fight with the rest of my body... meh... dumbass...
tyler: eye drops?
chuck: my eyes get dry if I have them working overtime
chuck: so half the time I'm blinking to keep them moisturized
tyler: ...
chuck: can't even open my eyes when my tear duct reserves have been depleted due to emo tendencies
tyler: so when did you become me, or was it me that became you?
chuck: ::blinks::
chuck: good question
chuck: I have the sudden urge to purr like a kitty

chuck: how're things in that cabin of yours?
marcy: oh...ok. got in trouble so ive been having to get on surruptitiously
chuck: fun
chuck: hope it wasn't anything too scandalous
marcy: no, it was my mom bein arbitrary and me pointing it out to her
chuck: aah
chuck: man, if I got in trouble for everytime I did that to my dad...
marcy: well, i DO get in trouble for every time i do that
chuck: ack, 'm sorry

And here’s one from the vaults:

chuck: but it had the 1950's equivalent to gratuitous nudity... gratuitous dance sequences
karen: "karen! Look! they're doing the charelston!" "Isn't it great honey?" which is why i'm in the foyer, on the computer
karen: o.O;;
chuck: ::sings:: charleston, charleston, made in south carolina
chuck: some dance, some prance, I'll say! there's nothing finer than the...
karen: the whole world is just a musical waiting to happen.
karen: i say that as if it's a bad thing. HA!
chuck: you don't know the truth behind that statement

. . . . . posted:||3:15 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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I could talk about the crap day that I had. I could talk about this sense of foreboding (especially after an unsettling dream about the first day of school) that's been haunting my person. I could talk about how my odd mood has more or less deprived me of any decent conversation skills. I could talk about smelly dogs.

But it seems that everyone I know (or at least a good half of them) aren't too peachy at the moment. So, I'll try to be positive while I type this.

First off, tried a new restaurant for lunch today. Had a really nice mediterranean chicken salad with some unusual (but never the less delicious) greens, this nice and crispy bread, and the sweetest sun-dried Romano tomatoes I've ever had.

Went to Gee's Oriental Market and I got myself a can of delicious oolong tea. I tried to find some rice crackers but they didn't have it (the store specializes in filipino and thai cuisine, not japanese) so I settled for some coconut-flavored wafers. It was delicious.

There was a bbq party at the uncle's tonight. The rib-eye was so tender that I barely had to work to separate the bone from the meat. Aunt Janice's salad spork-scissor contraption was just crazy and practical enough to make me smile.

The dogs were friendly, and Jasmine (despite her very impressive black coat) is a friendly/submissive dog when you look at her eye to eye.

Got to take home the strawberry shortcake and some pecan pie. Also, I dug up the family's very old chess set (from the first house downtown) and proceeded to do some light dusting before I played two games (won one against my other cousin Carlo). It's an unusual set: the white pieces are conquistadors, the black pieces are the Aztecs, and the board is sided with reliefs of the conquest of Mexico.

He let me keep it. So great.

Finally got to listen to the newly bought Camp cd (which, sadly, won't be playing in Vegas any time soon) and some of the songs on that thing are great. Oh! I finally found out the name of that song that Ewan McGregor sings while fetching groceries in A Life Less Ordinary; it's "Round Are Way" by Oasis. Now I can sing it slightly out of tune wherever I take the groceries.

Another prize won from the bbq party: got an almost-complete strawberry shortcake and a quarter of a pecan pie. Yum!

Right now I'm feeling accomplished/tired.

Hey, being positive for an entire entry does help a bit. Should do it more often.

. . . . . posted:||10:24 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Just my luck. Give me a good chance to get to know someone well and I end up fucking it up so badly. No instant connection leads to ackward topics of conversation.

Hi. What else is new?

Need to get out of the house. Karen, can I camp out at yours for a few days? I'll bring my sewing machine so we can get crackin' on those fashion show pieces.

I need to get sadder. That way I'll be a little bit happy that everyone else will be happy too.

. . . . . posted:||1:31 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Went to First Friday.

It so would've been better if I didn't have to drag the family with me.


- got to see Mike attempting a faux mohawk for the first time (dear, use pomade, not plastic-inducing gel)

- hung out briefly with cool people again (instead of the usual family fair)

- Red Bull tastes like pissant, but it keeps me wide awake

- Willy Wonka the juggler... disturbing streat performer

- really nice artwork (more so from the non-cluttered Arts Factory) and people whose eyes don't automatically search for genitalia (like my dad... and it was an effing gay Italian movie too)

- lots of charming boys

- amazing antiques from the Funk House

- that one girl singing in the gallery with the Tiki Show (the one with my vectored thingy in it)

- Michaels' friend Chuck, the sexiness in the olive green shirt and his floppy chestnut locks


- dad taking away my lighter while I was repeatedly turning it on and off when we got lost

- dad displaying his Marc Polo navigation skills, leading us for a block in the opposite direction on foot

- mom's furrowed eyebrows

- sis' general incompetence... but mainly the fact that she felt so ackward around 20-somethings that drink (and she's suppose to be the older one?) (plus, that's a dead give-a-way that she's still the meek highschooler type)

- HAN's parents hassling me to help them find her

- not being able to hang out with HAN and friends

- missing out on an hour of First Friday when I had to go "eat" (translation: sit at the table and ignore) with the family at Pinoy Pinay

- ethnic music

- lots of charming boys... with their dates (male and female)

- lots of charming boys... but when one asked me if I had a light, I didn't (thank you, oh seminal source of my conception (dad))

- amazing antiques from the Funk House... that are usually over-priced

- Michaels' friend Chuck... who's old enough to be cute yet still get slammed by jailbait (and he seems as shy as Catherine... wouldn't know if I have the patience to be with someone like that)

Overall... It was a depressingly disappointing experience. I hate having people and obligations limit my actions.

I've resolved to get my license by next month's First Friday. Then I'd be able to drive 'round with friends before and after the events of the night.

And when another charming lad asks me for a light, I'll be able to share mine.

. . .

With the piece that I'm working on (not the watercolor/gouache one, this one's new), I know that I'm going to upset a lot of people in my family.

Now I have to wonder if I should unfurl it before Thanksgiving or do the houseguests a courtesy and wait until they've left to explain it's meaning.


. . . . . posted:||3:02 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Does anyone else feel as if the acid build up from their empty stomachs are going to eat them inside out? No?

Well, technically my stomach's not so empty. Just coffee (sans creamer) filled.

Had a nice little yelling match with the grandma over the use of the dishwasher and the recent drought that the entire southwest is experiencing. At first I thought she had genuine concern for the ecology... Then I remembered that she's a mizer that would put Anya to shame, so she's probably concerned about paying higher utilities.

Proved it within five minutes when she started complaining about ALL the household bills before climbing the stairs while mumbling to herself.

Later, from my dad: "Son, you made your grandmother mad. Please don't do that. When she gets mad, she starts with the history lessons and everyone's mad... or at least bored to annoyance."

Then, much later at night (sis this time): "Yeah, Aunt Tess said that she liked me more than you because you were too sarcastic. She never knew if you were laughing inside while you said half of everything that you said. Knowing you, it'd be every word that you uttered."

My decent watercolor has turned into shite thanks to some faulty timing. Damn. Why do I even bother sometimes?

The book (Towing Jehovah) is still good and funny and bitingly sarcastic.
It wasn't just that the sharks had wrought such terrible destruction, stripping off the foreskinn like a gang of sadistic mohels.Even if in good shape, God's penis would still rank high among those vistas a priest and a nun could not comfortably share.
Ah. Great. Seems like my lessons in Catholic dogma have only been used to find greater entertainment in religious satire.

Waiting at the DMV is hell. Luckily I had my copy of A Feast of Love to read, but was dutifully distracted by this guy's insanely attractive calves. I kept on wondering if they would feel like a warm shower, if the sparse hair covering them was as soft as it appeared to be, and if they would taste like warm Guinness if I licked them. I blame it on the book; got to the point where the ex-wife (no. 1) is describing how she found out that she liked women better than men.

No, you idiot. Flirting is not fun. Flirting is tiresome and ever-draining. Especially if the boy behind the coffee counter is acting more like a go-fer (disappearing through the door to the supplies) than a talkative barista with a penache for being an amateur psychologist (normally done by bartenders).

Found this out from sis who got an iced tea after me. Damn her.

Need to listen to some nice cabaret piano to help the current headache. Rufus with a mandolin, anyone?

. . . . . posted:||4:11 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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